Chapter Text
Nobody’s special, no one’s actually special.
If you give everyone special treatment, then no one’s really special to you.
That’s a fact Katsuki Bakugou had to learn to live with. Learning this, for someone who’d always thought he was special, hurt. It hurt bad. Especially because Izuku—his rival, friend, soulmate—was the one to make him understand that.
Izuku Midoriya, the Symbol of Peace, epitome of what a hero is, the most selfless person he’s ever met, willing to sacrifice himself for anyone else. Izuku, who always puts others’ thoughts and dreams before his own.
Katsuki should’ve known he was never special to someone like Izuku. He’s the most good person Katsuki has ever met. Too good—to the point it can be considered self-destructive. Katsuki always admired that about him, as bad as that sounds. Izuku, who’s willing to break his mind and body to make sure a puppy is safe. It used to make Katsuki sick to his stomach, but now it makes him feel something resembling pride. Pride at the man Izuku has become. Pride for going through all the shit he has and still coming out the other side, ready to break himself with a smile for a world that has done nothing but hurt him.
Gosh, Katsuki’s eyes burn. He’s sitting here in his apartment all alone, imagining Izuku with him. Katsuki thinks about the way Izuku’s rough, scarred hands would pet through his hair, and he’d say some shit like, “It’s okay, Kacchan. You’re going to be okay,” in his stupid, comforting hero voice. Izuku’s a martyr till he dies, Katsuki thinks.
He feels pathetic in his cold, practically empty apartment, daydreaming about Izuku’s touch. Katsuki wipes his eyes that were definitely not leaking, and gets up to splash his face with cold water to stop the thoughts from spiraling. He wants Izuku. His chest hurts, and no one other than Deku is going to make it better.
The cold water snaps something in Katsuki’s head. He has Izuku’s phone number. They’re friends, and friends just casually hang out, right? Except this isn’t a casual hangout—Katsuki’s upset and wants to be comforted like a pathetic little baby. He wants Izuku to tell him it’s alright.
Now that he’s really thinking about it, Izuku’s been distant for a while. He can’t remember the last time he saw the nerd, except when he gave him his suit as a present.
Katsuki vaguely has enough brain cells left to wonder if Izuku’s doing well. It’s been a rough 8 years for him, watching his friends live out their dreams while he had to sacrifice his own for the greater good. Katsuki’s heart hurts for him. Why are his eyes burning and when did he become so emotional? Well, he’s always been emotional if it has to do with Izuku. Nerd’s contagious.
Katsuki grabs his phone and decides, against his better judgment, he wants to—needs to—hear Izuku’s voice.
A little voice in the back of his head screams at his neediness—he’s pathetic for wanting Izuku. Izuku’s made it clear he’s not special. At least not to him. Or maybe Katsuki just made that up. It’s late. Everything hurts. Is he even gonna be awake? What if he just doesn’t pick up?
The phone rings for a second before Izuku picks up, his sweet, calming voice coming through. Katsuki can hear him greet him in an enthusiastic way, almost like he’s happy to hear from him. Katsuki grips the counter; his knees feel weak, but something in his chest settles—Izuku’s voice soothing him like honey.
“Hey, nerd,” Katsuki manages to get out, his voice coming out weak and soft—nothing like anyone’s used to hearing.
He briefly remembers it’s three in the morning and wonders why Izuku sounds so awake. Is the nerd taking care of himself?
“Hey, Kacchan? Is everything okay? Why do you sound like that?” Izuku asks. His voice sounds unsure, almost like he’s crossing a line by asking Katsuki that. Katsuki thinks it’s stupid of him—Izuku’s crossed every line he’s ever set. Katsuki looks at the floor, decides it’s easier to ignore Izuku’s concern, even though it’s the very thing he’s been wanting. Any form of attention from Izuku. He asks Izuku what he’s up to.
“Uh—nothing much. I haven’t really been up to anything these days. You know how it is.”
Katsuki does not.
Izuku sounds nervous, though. Weird for someone he’s known his whole life—although it hasn’t felt like that for some time now.
“I—” Katsuki’s voice cracks. He doesn’t expect it to. He’s not sure why his body’s betraying him at this very moment. His vision is getting blurry, and the pressure in his throat is building up. He quickly hangs up the phone. He fucked it up. The silence feels heavier than Izuku’s precious voice.
His hands have a death grip on the sink. It’s hard to breathe. He lets his knees give out and leans back against the bathtub railing to steady himself. He looks up at the ceiling and tries to breathe, tells himself it’s okay. His chest hurts so bad.
An involuntary sob slips out. He hasn’t cried since Izuku lost One For All.
He thinks about One For All—how the embers slowly faded out of Izuku over the years, leaving him completely quirkless. Katsuki thinks about their relationship and how it faded along with the embers. He thinks about how Izuku’s smiles have become less bright, his eyes—which used to outshine the sun—have dulled down. Katsuki’s been watching him for years. All his life, actually. This type of thing wouldn’t get past him. Katsuki knows Izuku’s been struggling—or he should, but right now, everything’s too loud and he can’t focus on anything other than his chest caving in.
Katsuki wants nothing more than to help Izuku gain his smile—his spirit—back. Because Izuku has always been a better person than Katsuki, or anyone he’s ever met. He deserves to be a hero more than anyone. It’s what Izuku was born to do. His smile can comfort anyone. His steady presence brings peace.
It’s why Katsuki spent the majority of his paycheck on Izuku’s Super Suit, hoping he’d come back to him. It’s why he’s been holding himself back in the hero rankings, waiting for Izuku—so they could compete for number one.
His dreams for that feel so far away.
Izuku feels so far away.
He digs his palms into his eyes to stop the tears from leaking out, takes a deep breath, and tries to compose himself. He doesn’t know how long he sits there. The air feels stale, the porcelain of the bathtub uncomfortably digs into his back. He’s a little sweaty, but his hands won’t stop shaking.
A knock interrupts his thoughts. A knock? It’s 3 in the morning for gosh’ sake. Who could possibly be bothering him? A little voice in the back of his head hopes it’s his Izuku. His Izuku? Katsuki thinks he’s actually going crazy.
He hears the lock click and he hears a beautiful, smooth voice call out to him. It sounds like Izuku. Why would Izuku be here to check on Katsuki of all people? It must be in his head. Izuku’s too good to be here, wasting his night.
The voice calls out to him again. Katsuki tries to find his voice but it feels like he’s swallowed razors. He vaguely hears footsteps, they slowly get louder. He knows nobody but Izuku calls Katsuki, Kacchan. It has to be Izuku, he begs.
Katsuki wipes his eyes just in time to see a figure crouch in front of him. It looks like Izuku, with his soft, beautiful eyes and wild green hair. It feels like Izuku’s seeing through him. Katsuki’s fingers feel numb, he’s not sure if it’s from the cold or panic.
“Hey Kacchan, you hung up so quickly, and well, I got worried.” Izuku rubs the back of his head as he sheepishly admits his concern. Katsuki notes that Izuku’s using his hero voice, gentle and steady, like he’s sure of himself. He sounds unshakable, and Katsuki wants to do nothing but curl into his chest and let Izuku hold him through the storm. The logical part of his brain screams at him to stop being so weak.
“Hey…” Izuku coos like Katsuki’s a fucking child, and Katsuki feels that his cheeks are wet again. Izuku gets all sure of himself when he decides he wants to save someone, Katsuki recalls from the millions of observations he’s made about Izuku. He wonders if this is that. Izuku’s here because he’s in need of saving. Katsuki is surprised when he realizes that the idea doesn’t repulse him, nothing does as long as it’s Izuku.
He takes a good look at Izuku’s face. He looks worn down almost, his eye bags are bad. How has Katsuki not noticed that? He sees Izuku reach out, feels soft fingers in his hair, almost petting him. It feels nice. Izuku’s hands are scarred but they manage to feel soft. It makes Katsuki feel delicate, like he’s one breath away from breaking.
“Hey,” Izuku mutters again, this time softer, with a reassuring smile. “Is everything alright?”
Katsuki knows Izuku’s going through something worse than him, but he’s still checking up on him. Katsuki is the most selfish man alive. He doesn’t deserve so much kindness from the best person on earth. Gosh, his eyes burn again.
Izuku catches onto that and decides he wants Katsuki to leave this room with dignity, so he brings his head to rest on his shoulder. Izuku’s soft fingers feel nice going through his hair.
“I know, it hurts right now huh? You don’t have to tell me what’s going on, honey.” Izuku says.
The pet name slips out of Izuku’s mouth before he can stop himself. Katsuki knows it was an accident but he still feels a bit of tension roll out of him when Izuku addresses him so softly. Addresses Katsuki, one of the most dangerous men in the country, by a soft name. Katsuki distantly thinks that Izuku’s more like honey. He’s soothing, and sweet.
Izuku’s like a breath of fresh air, or a warm cup of tea on a cold day. Damn it, Katsuki’s going soft.
Before he can really process what’s going on, Izuku’s warm hands are helping Katsuki up. Katsuki doesn’t know where to, but goes along with him anyway. It’s Izuku at the end of the day and Katsuki would follow him into fire if need be.
The next time Katsuki notices anything around him, he’s on his couch, Izuku next to him. Katsuki takes a long glance at Izuku. His fingers are twitching like he wants to reach for him, and he notices his own hands are doing the same. The voice in his head yells at him to stop being so stupid. Izuku saw he was sad and wanted to help him. He’s a charity case, he knows that. Izuku wouldn’t want to touch someone as selfish as him.
He looks up into Izuku’s big eyes, and notices they seem a little red around the edges. Before he can think too much about it, Izuku’s voice cuts through his thoughts.
“So have I told you about what happened with Bubbleshot?” Izuku’s voice sounds very casual, too casual, almost like it’s forced. Bubbleshot? Katsuki vaguely remembers him as some extra he met at a charity event once.
“No? Why are you talking to that extra anyway?” Katsuki feels his face sour at the mention of another man out of Izuku’s mouth.
“That’s what I’m trying to say! Remember when he talked to me during that charity thing for Uravity? Well apparently he’s been obsessed with me for a while and he keeps trying to make moves on me!” Izuku explains like it’s the most far-fetched idea that someone’s into him. Katsuki thinks he must be stupid.
“Why wouldn’t he be?” Katsuki genuinely wonders, then later realizes it might be a little too nice for someone like him to say. Izuku seems to realize this too because his face morphs into something more confused.
“Because… it’s me?” Izuku says, like that explains anything. Dumb nerd.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Katsuki asks, and notes that his voice doesn’t sound as fragile anymore. He doesn’t either.
“I just mean like it’s so weird that someone would be interested in me… romantically I guess?”
“Are you stupid?” Katsuki decides to humor him, against his better judgment, and suddenly he realizes he doesn’t feel like the world’s falling apart. Izuku’s calming presence is there, and he’s trying to sound all casual, probably to distract him. Fucking martyr.
“Huh?”
“I said, are you fucking stupid?” Katsuki almost yells at him.
“I heard you!” Izuku has the audacity to match his tone. It’s refreshing, if Katsuki’s being honest—he misses Izuku’s fire. He remembers when Izuku started to fight back, end of middle school, around the same time he got his quirk. Now that he’s thinking about it, he hasn’t heard Izuku raise his voice, or fight back at him, in years.
He misses it.
He misses Izuku.
Gosh, he’s getting sentimental again, and all he wants to do is put his head in Izuku’s lap and take a nap. He’s so tired.
“Tch, you’re so stupid,” Katsuki replies after realizing he hasn’t said anything in a few moments. Izuku catches on—the nerd’s actually really smart, more than anyone gives him credit for.
Izuku doesn’t reply, but shifts back against the couch, grabs Katsuki by the back of his neck, and lays him down. Katsuki’s head is on Izuku’s thigh, the firm muscle slightly twitching under the weight. Katsuki thinks Izuku’s hands are shaking a bit—maybe he’s nervous.
Izuku is an angel, Katsuki decides. He’s some mind-reading hero—that’s probably his original quirk.
Katsuki takes a deep breath, and his muscles relax on their own. He can’t remember the last time he’s felt so safe and comfortable. Izuku has that effect on people—always has. His head feels quieter. He can feel Izuku’s rough—but somehow still gentle—fingers running through his hair, massaging his scalp. Katsuki must be dead and this is the afterlife, because he doesn’t think he’ll ever feel something so nice again.
Katsuki feels his consciousness start to fade as Izuku’s hand gets heavier, more confident. His careful fingers dig into the spot behind his ears—he’s sensitive there. Katsuki lets out a whine—how embarrassing, he thinks, but he doesn’t find it in himself to care.
Izuku continues playing with his hair. Katsuki’s breathing is getting heavier and steadier as time goes by, and he feels himself drift off to a dreamless sleep. The last thing he can register is Izuku, Izuku, and Izuku.