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“You’re leaving.”
Katsuki glances up from packing his bag, meeting a pair of accusatory green eyes. “Sure looks that way, don’t it?”
Stepping halfway into Katsuki’s home, Izuku hesitates like he’s not sure he has permission to fully enter. His cheeks are bright red; his eyes, glassy like he’s been crying. It could just be from the arctic wind swirling in his wake—Katsuki has never felt its chilly touch, though he’s been told it’s quite painful.
“Can I come in?” Izuku asks quietly, holding the tent flap open behind him.
“Don’t bother.” Katsuki tightens the strings of his pack with a vicious tug. “I’m gone in the morning. There’s nothing you can say that’ll make me stay in this shithole.”
Izuku sways like he’s been struck. The reaction causes a twinge in Katsuki’s chest, which he promptly ignores. “Why, Kacchan?”
Dragging his gaze away, Katsuki turns his attention to securing his sleeping roll. “You know why.”
Even though he doesn’t voice them aloud, his reasons come unbidden in his mind.
Because this village is too small and too remote. There’s nothing for him here. Nothing but days spent shivering and not knowing why he can’t seem to stop. Nothing but lonely nights huddled around a fire that he can’t even feel.
“To look for your soulmate?” Izuku wonders, and gods damn him, for someone Katsuki can’t stand to be around most of the time, he sure has him pegged.
“I’m not like those extras,” he spits. “I don’t give a damn about a soulmate.”
“So? If it’s not that, then why leave?” Izuku asks pointedly, stepping inside. The heavy animal pelt falls shut behind him. It’s just Izuku, Katsuki, and the building storm between them.
Katsuki says nothing.
“It’s dangerous out there, Kacchan. The elders couldn’t have given you permission to leave, not when the yearly snows have already arrived.” His voice has taken on a desperate, pleading edge. “You’ll die out there by yourself.”
Katsuki stands, approaching Izuku and grabbing him roughly by the elbow. “If I’m that weak, then I deserve to die.”
A stubborn light flickers in the depths of Izuku’s gaze, visible now that Katsuki is much closer. “You can’t leave. I won’t let you.”
“We’ll see about that.”
With that, he pushes Izuku out of his tent and back into the unwelcoming winter air.
The elders have not, in fact, granted him permission to leave. So Katsuki has to sneak out before dawn, escaping with only the moon’s light to guide him. While everyone is snug under their furs, he slips beyond where the packed ground gives way to drifts: the limit of their territory.
He doesn’t hesitate as he takes his first steps into clean, unmarked snow. Doesn’t glance over his shoulder a dozen paces later, when it crusts up to his mid-calf. He doesn’t consider turning around, even when he climbs the hill that’ll take the village out of sight for good.
He cannot stay there, so why mope over it? Instead, he embraces freedom, breathing it in deeply. Katsuki is completely on his own for the first time—no one to answer to and more importantly, no one to worry about.
It takes two hours for him to notice the shadow dogging his footsteps. Two hours more to identify which idiot has decided to follow him.
Katsuki would recognize Izuku’s shape anywhere, even bundled in heavy layers to protect him from the frost.
“...dammit.” He has to make a decision: wait for him or push on. He’s tempted by the latter. Why not? Katsuki didn’t ask Izuku to tag along and he shouldn’t have to change his plans to accommodate him.
But he also knows Izuku. Once the stubborn bastard sets his sights on something, he won’t give up, not even if it kills him. He’s a lot like Katsuki in that respect. Another reason why Katsuki wants to strangle him right now.
So, he waits.
“Hi, Kacchan,” Izuku greets when he’s close enough to be heard. He’s dressed for a long journey, wearing his sturdiest boots and carrying a pack that’s a twin to Katsuki’s. A scarf obscures the lower half of his face and a wool-lined hat makes only his eyes visible.
Still, with just a glimpse into them and those two words, Katsuki can sense the iron-like will lingering beneath the surface.
He grits his teeth. “Go home, Deku, before you freeze to death.”
“The only way I’ll go home is if you’re with me,” Izuku says brightly. “So if you’re not coming back… lead the way.”
Katsuki’s scowl deepens. “It’s dangerous,” he growls. “You’ll only slow me down.”
Izuku just meets his stare, their wills clashing silently. It’s Katsuki who ends up relenting and only because he’d have to drag Izuku back home, tie him up in his tent and restart his journey. Even then, Izuku would probably just track him again once he broke free.
Katsuki resumes trudging through the deep snow. Izuku follows silently.
They’re quiet for a long time, until the pale sun is seated at its zenith and the world sparkles so brightly that Katsuki’s vision tears up. It’s only then that Izuku decides to strike up a conversation. Of course, it’s with a question.
“Where are we headed?”
Katsuki points to the mountain range towering some distance away, and the city that’s not yet visible at its base. “Yueii.”
“That’s far.” Katsuki can hear the frown in his voice. “Without a horse or wolfdog, it’ll take a week. Maybe even more with how deep the snow is.”
Izuku doesn’t say it, but Katsuki knows what he’s thinking. Will we even make it that long?
It’s winter in Musutafu. The time of year where every living thing hunkers down and endures. Food is rationed, energy saved for when it’s needed most, and the short, bleak days of their village pass with agonizing slowness. The only thing that makes it possible to survive is the promise of spring… and a soulmate to help brace against the cold.
Katsuki would rather be out here facing his death than spend another winter alone.
He keeps his gaze locked on those mountains as they plod onward, thinking, You’d better be there.
The journey is exhausting, wearing on them like glacial waters carving through bedrock. They rarely stop, pressing forward during times they should be resting. Even then, the distance to the mountains never seems to shrink. The weather doesn’t cooperate either, snowfall slowly accumulating and making it difficult to trek through. Four days in and they barely have the energy to speak. Still, Izuku chatters away every night around the fire.
It’s small talk mostly—complaints about the weather and rumors from the village they’ve left behind. Katsuki listens only because he has no choice. Inevitably, at some point in the conversation he tells Izuku to shut his mouth or he’ll do it for him.
This evening is not one of those times. They’re fletching arrows in the hopes that they’ll shoot snow hare for breakfast, and Izuku has remained unnervingly quiet. Maybe he’s concentrating. There is a furrow in his brow… but his gaze is unfocused and his hands, listless.
“What’s wrong with you?” Katsuki grumbles.
“Hm?” Izuku drags his attention away from his task. “Nothing. I’m fine.”
Bullshit. Katsuki bites the inside of his cheek, glowering at the arrow shaft in his hands. He’s struggling to get the feathers to sit properly and angrily tugs off his gloves to get a better grip. He can’t stand when things don’t do what they’re supposed to.
“Why’d you come with me, anyway?”
Izuku gives his answer absently, his thoughts elsewhere. “Because I was worried about you, Kacchan.”
That pisses him off. Izuku worried about him? He’s got it backwards.
“You were the one always getting hurt when we were kids. Remember the first time you tried riding? Fell off your horse and had bruises everywhere.” He smirks, not at the memory of a young Izuku going teakettle over heels, but because he’s right and Izuku knows it. “So save your worry for someone who needs it.”
Izuku doesn’t argue. A tiny smile plays on his lips. “You remember that, Kacchan?”
For some reason, the question makes Katsuki feel strange inside, like he’s been caught doing something he’s not supposed to. He renews his efforts with the arrow shaft, ignoring Izuku.
That is until the other man lets out a loud gasp, stumbling to his feet.
“What is it?!” Katsuki jumps up, reaching toward Izuku and preparing to throw him out of harm’s way. Adrenaline floods his veins and he’s bracing himself for the worst—a predator attack, bandits, maybe even an avalanche…
Only, Izuku’s gaze is fixed on him. “Kacchan! Your hands!” He grabs them. The firelight dances on Katsuki’s naked palms. “They’re red!”
“So what?” His heart is beating furiously, putting him on edge.
“Frostbite’s setting in,” Izuku mumbles, studying his bright red fingers. He pushes Katsuki back onto the mat he was just sitting on, taking up the spot next to him. They barely fit, thighs pressing together. Way too intimate for Katsuki’s liking.
“What are you doing?!”
“Warming you up,” he replies matter-of-factly. “What’re you thinking, Kacchan? It’s freezing out here. You’ll lose a finger if you don’t wear gloves.”
Katsuki sputters, indignant. But before he can get anything worthwhile out, Izuku makes the situation much worse, removing his own gloves and interlacing their fingers.
“What the hell—”
“Have to warm them up.” Izuku is talking like Katsuki’s not there, even though he’s holding his damn hand. “There’s no helping it,” he says, nodding to himself.
Then Izuku tucks their joined hands under his shirt.
Katsuki can’t feel the heat radiating there, though he’s been told it’s one of the safer ways to warm frost-nipped fingers. He should complain; should pull away and yell at Izuku to mind his own business. He starts to, but forgets as soon as he opens his mouth… and that’s because he picks up on Izuku’s silent reaction.
It’s subtle—the barest wince when Katsuki’s icy fingers brush his skin. If they weren’t so close, Katsuki wouldn’t have noticed.
Izuku reacted to the cold. Not like Katsuki—where his body responds only when his life is threatened. Katsuki shivers in the winter and sweats in the summer, but if he wants to, he can stay in the elements until he collapses and never feel a thing.
Izuku shied away from the discomfort. It’s different in every way that matters.
“You felt that?” The question slips from Katsuki’s dumbfounded lips. He follows it up by wriggling his fingers free, testing to see if he can earn another flinch. Izuku shudders.
“...You have a soulmate?”
They both know the answer. It’s as obvious as the rising sun. Still, Katsuki needs to hear it for himself. Izuku squirms and a lengthy moment passes. Then, a nod.
Katsuki’s breath leaves his body in a prolonged hiss. It’s like he’s been punched, the wind knocked from his lungs. Izuku has a soulmate. Izuku has a soulmate.
Izuku has a soulmate, and Katsuki doesn’t.
When did he find out?
How long has he kept Katsuki in the dark?
…Who is it?
Katsuki asks none of these questions. Instead, he sits there in a silence that threatens to crush him, until he finally manages to force out, “...What’s it like? To feel?”
He doesn’t need to know the identity of Izuku’s soulmate. He doesn’t even care in the first place.
Izuku sags a little, tension leaving his body. “It’s… different. Mostly painful at first.”
Katsuki presses his lips into a tight line. He’s listening closely, but there’s a ringing in his ears and his pounding pulse makes it difficult to focus.
“Cold hurts, you know?” Izuku explains, oblivious to Katsuki’s turmoil. “It’s a deep ache, seeping into your bones and freezing you from the inside out.”
“And fire?” It’s more a gasp than a question.
“Sharper. It’s like you’re kindling, burning up in an instant,” he continues. “But warm is nice. Softer. It’s like how your hands are starting to feel.”
Izuku squeezes Katsuki’s for emphasis.
“Oh.”
Katsuki stares at him, swallowing. The other man’s face is soft and open, as though a barrier between them has finally come down. Katsuki realizes that’s exactly what’s happened, because Izuku has been keeping this secret until now. For the first time in his life, Izuku has hidden something from Katsuki.
“There are other feelings, too, Kacchan. Sheep’s wool is oily; not nearly as soft as it looks.” He picks up speed as he talks, clearly excited. “There are these river rocks back home, smooth as can be. And the way grass feels in the spring…”
For once, Katsuki doesn’t interrupt him, letting Izuku tell him about what it’s like. There’s a terrible pull in his chest as he does. Something like longing.
Finally, Izuku asks him the question Katsuki hoped he wouldn’t have to answer.
“Aren’t you going to ask me who it is? My soulmate?” he wonders, tilting his head. He’s so innocent at that moment, and it only makes Katsuki that much more bitter.
Katsuki pulls away, extracting his hands and tugging his gloves back on.
“I don’t give a damn about soulmates.”
Liar, his mind whispers.
He doesn’t bother gauging Izuku’s reaction, crawling into his one man tent and curling in on himself. That night, he doesn’t get much sleep. Instead, he fills the hours turning over the same two questions.
How could Izuku have found his soulmate?
And why does that bother him?
They’re closing in on the city of Yueii, and Katsuki is starting to get antsy. Peace of mind and a good night’s sleep are only a half day’s journey away. Not to mention, it’ll be the perfect opportunity to put some space between him and Izuku.
Izuku has to be eager for this journey to end, too. They’re both windswept and chafed from the bad weather, though only Izuku can feel it. To make matters worse, Katsuki has been in a foul mood ever since the other broke the news about his soulmate.
Bad company and awful conditions… Katsuki wouldn’t blame Izuku if he holed himself up in the first inn they found and never spoke to him again.
So when the sky grows thick with storm clouds around midday, Katsuki merely frowns at them.
“Shouldn’t we make camp?” Izuku asks an hour later. Dark clouds churn above them, full of snow and promising to unleash it shortly. “There’s not much time left…”
“We’re almost there.” He grits his teeth. “We’re pushing on.”
He doesn’t want to stop now. Not when they’re this close. If this was the start of their journey, maybe, but Katsuki can see the glow of the city on the horizon.
“It looks like a pretty bad storm. Yueii will still be there when it passes. Wouldn’t it be safer to wait it out?” It’s a reasonable idea. So why is Katsuki so angry?
“Another night next to you? I’d rather die,” he replies sharply.
“Don’t say things like that!” Izuku snaps, and there it is, the moment he’s been waiting for. Izuku’s face grows red, his brows snap together—after days of chipping away at him, Katsuki has finally worn him down. “That’s not funny, Kacchan!”
Izuku’s anger is like blood on clean snow, and Katsuki is the wolf chasing down his wounded prey.
“Who said I’m joking? It’s true.” Katsuki smirks, but there’s no humor in it. Just his own rage, whipping up to match the storm above them. “I hate being with you. I wish you’d never tagged along.”
Izuku flinches, but doesn’t back down. He never backs down and it’s the most infuriating thing about him.
“Why are you mean to me, Kacchan?” Izuku hurls the question at him, tears lining his lashes.
Katsuki wants to shake him. He clenches his fist to keep from grabbing Izuku’s shoulders and screaming at him. Instead, Katsuki clicks his tongue in annoyance and turns toward their destination. “You’re so stupid.”
A hand closes on his shoulder, spinning him around. “What exactly is your problem with me, Kacchan?!”
“My problem is you,” he snarls and suddenly all the frustration and anger he’s managed to keep locked away breaks free. He’s tired and emotionally raw, running on little sleep and almost no energy. All he wants is to be alone, so he can lick his wounds in peace. But he can't have that. Ever. Because Izuku is here. He’s always right next to him. Always shining and happy and ridiculously kind when all Katsuki ever returns is animosity.
And Katsuki is sick of him.
“You have everything. Everything. Family, friends, a damn soulmate…” The laugh that escapes him is mocking and cruel. “And you threw them away like they were worthless, so that you could chase after me.”
Why would he do such a thing? For Katsuki, of all people?
“Why do you get to have a soulmate?” Katsuki asks. And there’s the heart of the matter, the real reason why he’s upset. That’s what he tells himself anyway. It’s because he’s missing out, nothing else. “What makes you so damn special?!”
Izuku’s mouth falls open, hurt flashing in his eyes. Katsuki doesn’t care. He wishes Izuku could feel even a sliver of the pain he’s experiencing.
“I’m just as good as you are! I’m just as worthy! So, why can’t I have one?!” His voice, having grown steadily louder with each exclamation, cracks on that last question, brittle with emotion. He’s losing control. “What’s wrong with me?!”
Don’t I deserve love, too?
(Don’t I deserve your love, too?)
He seethes in the tense silence that falls between them, waiting for Izuku to say something, anything. He has no idea what he needs to hear. All he knows is that he’s desperate and he doesn’t know why.
Izuku closes his mouth, the stunned expression on his face melting. When he speaks, several long moments later, it’s with quiet resolution.
“Your soulmate is out there, Kacchan. So don’t worry anymore. We’ll make it to Yueii tonight and start looking for them tomorrow. I’m sure… I’m sure you’ll find someone really special.”
There’s a wobble to his words as he squeezes Katsuki’s shoulder one last time, but it’s gone when he speaks again. His smile is gentle. “Let’s keep going.”
There’s a twinge of regret, and Katsuki almost tells Izuku to stop walking when he notices the resigned slump of his shoulders. But a quick shake of his head clears his thoughts. They have more pressing matters to worry about.
The storm above them is about to break.
They have to hurry to beat it, pushing themselves hard with strength they don’t have. There’s a danger to what they’re doing and Katsuki can feel it with every step. It’s a shadow nipping at their heels—disaster lurking just out of sight, waiting for a single moment of weakness.
Katsuki clenches his jaw and focuses on what’s ahead of him. Izuku’s back takes up the majority of his vision; small but firm, braced against the snapping wind. He’s unbreakable, a force of nature in his own right. Katsuki finds the sight of him oddly comforting… though there’s a pit in his stomach when he looks anywhere else.
That sense of impending doom only heightens when they run into the gorge. It wends through the snow, pitch black and ominous. There’s supposed to be a bridge that crosses it, but Katsuki can’t find it. All he spies is a chasm of ice and rock, and no way to traverse it safely.
“What do we do now, Kacchan?” Izuku has to yell to be heard over the gale.
Katsuki curses under his breath. “The bridge is around here somewhere. We’ll trace the edge and find it.”
“Which way?”
“North.” Katsuki’s picking a direction at random, but they don’t have time for indecision. The skies have cracked open, snow is finally falling, and the wind is driving it directly into their faces. Staying out for too long in this kind of deadly weather could cause them both permanent damage.
He takes a few steps in his chosen direction, and that’s when it happens.
Instead of sinking into a layer of powdery snow, his right foot meets ice. He slips and loses his balance instantly. There’s a pull in his gut; a warning bell screeching in his ears. He leans hard to the left but can’t stop the inevitable.
He’s falling and there’s nothing but open air to catch him.
Oh fuck. I’m going to die after all.
In his last moments, he automatically seeks out Izuku.
Which is why he witnesses the exact moment that Izuku wraps his hands around his wrist, pulls with all his might and hurls Katsuki in the opposite direction.
Katsuki lands hard, a cloud of snow exploding where his body smacks the ground. Izuku is not so lucky. With that action, he takes Katsuki’s place, momentum carrying him over the edge.
Katsuki can only watch as the chasm swallows him.
“No,” he gasps.
He cannot comprehend. Seconds pass. He stares at the spot where Izuku just vanished, his vision going spotty.
What just happened? What the fuck just happened?!
There’s a tightening in his ribs, a lightness in his head, and then he’s scrambling on all fours to the edge. He cannot feel the bite of the icy rocks on his knees, but there’s a sharpness he registers and he knows he’s probably bleeding. He doesn’t care.
There’s no hesitation as he leans forward, peering into the twisted abyss below. He’s expecting the worst—that Izuku has disappeared, that he’s gone somewhere Katsuki cannot follow. What he sees makes his stomach knot up.
Izuku is a spot down below, but Katsuki can still see the unnatural sprawl to his body, dark against the white snow. Izuku’s completely motionless, which means he’s unconscious or…
“No. No way in hell.” He refuses to even entertain that thought.
Brushing aside the panic clawing at him, Katsuki starts to descend into the ravine. He can barely get a grip on the ice, slipping multiple times and nearly falling before he catches himself.
It takes too long to get to Izuku. By then, his mind is in complete chaos. He only calms down after he’s at Izuku’s side and sees the steady rise and fall of his chest.
Alive, then.
What should come as a great relief falls short when Katsuki calls his name and Izuku doesn’t open his eyes. Katsuki has to force himself to remain steady as he checks for injuries. Fortunately, it appears Izuku’s pack broke his fall. Unfortunately, Katsuki finds a fresh wound on his head, still seeping blood.
“Rock must’ve hit it.” he guesses, swearing again. He knows what he needs to do—find shelter immediately. They can’t stay here and there’s no way Katsuki can carry Izuku out of this hellhole; not when he doesn’t know the extent of his injuries.
He suddenly realizes the terrible truth. No one is coming to help them. They’re on their own.
Fear tries to grab hold, but Katsuki takes one look at Izuku and shoves it away. There’s no room for fear when Izuku needs him. So he quickly scouts the area and finds a small cave, carefully dragging him inside.
“It’s not much, but at least we’re out of the storm,” he tells him.
Katsuki’s about to leave Izuku’s side to secure their temporary shelter, but he stops suddenly, hand lingering on the other’s chest. There’s an impulse to check his breathing, one that he can’t ignore. He stares at his palm, willing it to move.
If it doesn’t, Katsuki’s not sure what he’ll do next.
When he sees it rise, Katsuki allows himself a tiny moment of relief. Then he gets to work.
He starts with the entrance, insulating the cave with a wall of snow. After that, he lights a fire with the supplies in his pack, and then finds Izuku’s bed and rolls it out. Finally, he lays him gently on it.
Then there’s nothing else to do… Nothing, but wait and pray.
Katsuki doesn’t know how much time passes. Seconds drag by, minutes feel like eternity. The sun is gone eventually, and then there’s only firelight illuminating Izuku’s limp form.
He’s far too quiet. Izuku should be moving around, eagerly yapping away while Katsuki prepares their campsite. His cheeks should be flushed in excitement, eyes glittering as he shares one of his stories. But all Katsuki sees is his pale, unmoving figure. All he hears is an endless silence.
It’s so wrong, Katsuki might get sick.
“Get up, Deku,” he grumbles, swallowing his bile.
Izuku doesn’t move.
“I’m serious, nerd.” His voice is raw. “Quit playing around.”
Nothing, not even a twitch. There isn’t much space between them but Katsuki moves in closer, leaning to observe Izuku’s face. It’s blank; doll-like. Katsuki scowls.
“You better not give up,” he warns. “Don’t you freaking dare.”
He must be desperate, if he’s hoping threats will reach him.
“Izuku. Wake up already,” he croaks. It feels like there’s a fire catching between his ribs, burning him from the inside out. He tries to think of anything that might help.
If threats don’t work, maybe something else will.
“I’m sorry,” he mutters. “For earlier. I didn’t mean it. I was just… jealous.” The admission makes him feel only slightly better.
“Your soulmate—” He chokes on the word. None of this is right. Not Izuku, laying motionless. Not that fact that his soulmate is out there somewhere, unaware of what’s happening. Not Katsuki, who’s entire being is screaming silently, begging for those green eyes to open.
“Your soulmate… They—” He can’t take it anymore. Suddenly, he leans down until his lips are almost touching Izuku’s ear to whisper a secret he’s been holding onto. “I’m going to miss you, okay? So please, please… Get up.”
He’s distraught, and doesn’t notice at first. The sensation is muted, a faint tickling of his cheek that makes him brush whatever is touching him away.
He freezes mid-movement.
Something is touching him. Something is touching him and Katsuki feels it.
He finds the culprit as he sits up—one of Izuku’s curls. Hastily, he tugs off a glove, gently gripping the lock of hair. To his astonishment, he can feel the strands between his fingertips.
“Holy shit.”
Why? Why is his soulmate bond awakening now? How?
He focuses on Izuku. Has to be… but…
His hands quake as they stroke Izuku’s hair. Soft , he thinks. Izuku’s explanation from days ago floats to the center of his thoughts. He exhales sharply, then rubs Izuku’s freckled cheek with his thumb. So this is what he meant by smooth.
“Izuku… It’s you,” he states, hardly believing it himself. “You’re my soulmate.”
At this point, Katsuki can barely breathe. But then Izuku stirs and it feels like time itself grinds to a stop.
“Kacchan?” he asks groggily. Slowly, his eyes flicker open, lighting on Katsuki. “Are you alright?”
The sight almost breaks Katsuki.
“I should be asking you that,” he retorts, voice rough and lacking heat.
“I’m fine,” Izuku assures. “Hurting but alive.” Then his palm lands gently on Katsuki’s cheek, cupping it.
Katsuki doesn’t know how to say it. How to tell him the truth he’s just uncovered moments ago. In the end, it turns out he doesn’t need to. As soon as Izuku brushes his cheek, Katsuki reflexively leans into the touch, craving more.
Izuku’s hand jerks. “Kacchan.”
“Yeah?”
“Did you… Did you just feel that?”
“Yeah. I did.” Katsuki nuzzles his palm, unwilling to hold himself back. “I can feel everything.”
Izuku sighs heavily, a slow smile blooming on his lips. “...finally.”
Then, before Katsuki’s aware of what’s happening, Izuku is surging up to kiss him. It’s wonderful—hot and sweet, filled with brittle hope that soon melts to joy. The kind of touch that makes him weak in the knees and ends all too soon. When Izuku pulls away, he has to bite his lip to keep from groaning in disappointment.
He’s still injured, he reminds himself, helping Izuku lay back down.
“I thought it was all one-sided,” Izuku explains when he’s settled. Of the two of them, he’s the first to adapt to this shocking development, back to his normal, cheery self right away.
No, that’s not true. He’s happier than Katsuki has ever seen him before, practically shining even as the tears start to fall.
“Can’t believe it took me so long to realize…” Katsuki shakes his head. Later, he’ll rage about his own stupidity. He can’t right now, not when he’s staring longingly at the other half of his soul.
Izuku was the one person he’d relentlessly pushed away. The same person who refused to leave. A weight that settled in Katsuki’s chest over the past few days suddenly lifts.
“I was an absolute idiot.” Please, forgive me.
“Me too.” Izuku chuckles, his tears flowing freely. Katsuki spends the next few minutes wiping them away. Then he spends the next few hours tracing the curves of Izuku’s face, running his fingers through his silky curls… memorizing how his new soulmate feels.
He’s all Katsuki’s, and Katsuki is all his.
“Tomorrow, we’ll continue to Yueii,” he murmurs. “You can recover there and, once you’re up for it, we’ll head for home.”
“I did say that the only way I’d go home is if you were with me,” Izuku teases.
“Cheeky little shit.” Katsuki sounds gruff but his cheeks ache from grinning for so long. “Guess you were right for once.”
“Home.” Izuku sighs, tangling their fingers together. There’s a dreamy smile on his lips, and a heaviness to his eyelids. Katsuki strokes his hair until he falls asleep, and then for some time after, just because he wants to.
Despite the poor start to his expedition, Katsuki is happy he left the village. One glance down and he knows the long journey was worth it, because it ended with Izuku in his arms. It’s where they both belong.