Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The town of Northvale was small, a close-knit community where everyone knew your name, and probably what you had for lunch too. Its high school sat near the center like a beating heart, surrounded by familiar streets and cozy neighborhoods. 

Izuku Midoriya had lived here his whole life. Even after the recent move, just across town, it still felt like home. Just different. 

“Honey, wait for me out here. I’m going to clean the entryway so we can fit these in,” Inko said as her keys rattled, opening the front door. Hundreds of boxes on the doorstep crowded the entrance.  

Inko Midoriya was known around Northvale for being sweet, a little nosy, and fiercely protective of her son. Izuku adored her regardless, even if her fussing was a hassle sometimes. 

“Sure mom,” he mumbled, wiping sweat from his brow as he collapsed onto the front steps. The stairs were warm from the sun, and his back ached from hauling boxes all morning. He rested his elbows on his knees, staring off as the breeze caressed his hair. 

His thoughts drifted, uninvited, to a memory from earlier that year…junior year, specifically. 

Ochako Uraraka, a beautiful young teenage girl that the town adored. Her personality was bubbly, and she was smart, kind, and joyful, impossible not to notice. However, she is also the girl Izuku liked during his junior year of high school. 

He confessed his love for her before entering summer break. 

And she’d gently, very gently , told him she liked girls.  

Everyone else apparently knew. Somehow he missed it. That part still stung. 

“God, how didn’t I notice,” he muttered, cringing at the memory. 

His heart hadn’t fully recovered. She was the first girl he really liked. The first heartbreak felt different. 

“Izuku?” 

The voice was soft. 

He blinked, turning toward the sound.  

A tall figure stood on the grass beside the porch, arms crossed, blonde hair catching the sun.  

“K-Kacchan?!” 

Katsuki Bakugo.  

The town's volleyball star, with a reputation of his hot-tempered and unpredictable personality.  

They hadn’t really talked since elementary school. Not really. Just passing glances in the halls. A grunt here. A nod there. 

“Didn’t know you moved here,” Katsuki said casually. 

Izuku’s eyes flickered over him. The boy was wearing black cargo pants, tank top, and a silver chain. When did he get that tall? Or that... built? 

“Yeah. Uh, just got here today.”  

The silence was heavy. Six years of it pressed down on them. 

“Hm, well okay—“  

“Katsuki…? Is that you?”  

Inko’s voice floated from the doorway, making them both look up. 

“Auntie…hi,” Katsuki replied, a little awkwardly. 

“Oh my, look at you! You've grown up so much—I didn’t realize we were moving near you and Mitsuki!” 

“Yeah, I was just heading out when I saw Izuku.”  

“Well, it’s good to see you again! I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other now that we’re neighbors.”   

Izuku, meanwhile, felt like his brain short-circuited.  

One; his mom was acting like it was totally normal to talk to Katsuki like they hadn’t lost contact for half a decade. 

Two; Katsuki was being...weirdly calm. 

And three; Katsuki said Izuku . Not any other name. 

That was new, considering their past. 

“Say Katsuki, would you like to help us unpack?” Inko offered with a warm smile. “It’d be nice for you and Izuku to talk.”  

Izuku snapped back to reality, quickly glancing at Katsuki, who was, to his surprise, already looking at him. 

“Sure,” Katsuki said. “I don’t mind.” 

The next thirty minutes passed with the kind of silence that wasn’t uncomfortable but definitely wasn’t familiar either. 

They unpacked mostly in the living room, which was covered by bubble wrap, books, vases, picture frames. Katsuki worked quietly, methodical in the way he stacked boxes and folded empty ones. 

Izuku kept sneaking glances. He wasn’t sure what surprised him more—that Katsuki hadn’t stormed off yet, or that he hadn’t barked a single insult. 

“So... volleyball, huh?” Izuku finally said, breaking the silence. 

“Yeah,” Katsuki replied without looking up. “I’ll be captain this year.” 

“Oh damn, that’s pretty good!” 

Katsuki just gave a low hum. Not rude or sarcastic. Just a hum of agreement. 

When Inko called for a break, Izuku nudged a box towards the stairs. “You wanna help me with my room?” he asked, a little too hopeful. 

Katsuki shrugged. “Sure.” 

*** 

His room was a mess of half-unpacked posters, clothes, and the faint smell of all-purpose cleaning supplies. They spent an hour unpacking small stuff. Sketchbooks, manga, a couple of CDs, tangled charging chords.  

They unpacked in a relative quiet, only the occasional rustle of boxes or drawers sliding shut filling the room. 

“So...” Katsuki finally said, voice low, casual. “Why’d you guys move?” 

Izuku looked up from stacking some books on his shelf. “Oh—uh, my mom wanted to move out of apartments. She said she wanted to have a house that she could decorate however she wants, no more annoying rules from the building complex.” 

He paused, hesitating. 

“I don’t really mind. Apartments were fine, but... at least I’m closer here, right?” 

The second the words left his mouth, Izuku froze. 

Closer here? To what , exactly? 

His eyes flickered toward Katsuki, who hadn’t said anything. Just paused, still kneeling beside an open box, one hand resting on the edge of it. 

He didn’t say “oh.” He didn’t scoff or smirk.  

But his eyes lifted, just briefly locking with Izuku’s. 

Not unreadable, not cold. 

And then he looked away and kept unpacking like nothing happened, but Izuku’s heart was already racing, and his face was burning like he’d accidentally screamed something way too personal into the void. 

“Senior year’s gonna be weird, huh?” Izuku blurted, desperate to fill the space. “Last year before everything changes.” 

Katsuki gave a grunt of agreement as he carefully lined up a stack of manga on the desk. “Yeah. Kinda looking forward to it, not gonna lie.” 

Another pause. This one a little softer. 

“But whatever happens, I wanna go hard this year,” Katsuki added, quieter. “No holding back.” 

Izuku nodded, his chest tight in a way he couldn’t explain. 

“Yeah. Me too.” 

A few minutes passed before Katsuki stood, brushing off his hands. 

“I should head out. Mom’s makin’ me run errands or whatever.” 

“Right! Of course,” Izuku said quickly, standing too. “Thanks for helping, though. Seriously.” 

Katsuki nodded once. “Yeah. See you around, nerd.” 

Nerd…?   

He said that nickname like it was familiar, like he knew Izuku all his life. Like middle school didn’t happen. Like the specific name he gave him in middle school didn’t haunt him, so he opted for “nerd” to just call him something.   

Izuku stood in the doorway for a long minute after he left before heading back to work. 

The last week of summer passed in a blur of half-unpacked boxes, helping his mom in the garden, and arranging his room just to rearrange it again. 

But somehow, his thoughts kept circling back to that hour in his room. 

The way Katsuki looked at him. 

The silence that didn’t feel empty. 

Maybe it didn’t mean anything. 

But it felt like something.  

Izuku felt the pull of a new beginning, whether it was from the new school year beginning in a week, or from the old friendship with Katsuki.  A quiet nervousness stirred within him as he unpacked. 

Chapter Text

The start of warm autumn: stores releasing fall specials, crisp air curling through open windows, and new adventures waiting for the students of Northvale High. 

The dawn chorus was slowly easing the day awake—until it was interrupted by an obnoxious alarm. 

The alarm blared into the quiet morning. Too loud. Too early. 

Izuku blinked awake, eyes still blurry. 

“7:23?!” 

He launched out of bed, half-tripping on his comforter, and sprinted to the bathroom. 

The toothpaste cap skittered across the counter as water splashed into the sink. Izuku scrubbed his teeth like the past fifteen minutes of sleep loss could somehow be reversed. 

He regretted everything. 

Who binges movies the night before the first day of senior year? 

Izuku did. 

His nerves had been too much, and the only thing that distracted him was the comfort of sweet nothings on a TV screen. 

That and the aching need to feel something good. Something warm. Not the dread he kept pushing down. 

Luckily, a pair of light green cargo pants and a white graphic tee were already waiting in Izuku’s closet. Apparently, they were the only ones prepared for today. 

He tugged the shirt over his head, ruffling his curls in the process, then knelt to tie the laces of his red Converse. 

One last look in the mirror. A breath. 

“Everything will be okay, Izuku. I got this. My year,” he whispered, grabbing his black Jansport bag from the hook by the door. 

The pins and keychains on the front pocket clinked together as he headed downstairs. 

His mom stood in the kitchen, soaking up the sun filtering through the window, coffee in hand. She turned the moment she heard him. 

“Ah, sweetheart! I was wondering when you’d wake up. Big day today. Be careful walking, okay? And start your final year off strong, honey!” 

She pulled him into a hug so tight, he could barely respond. 

“Y-Yeah, don’t worry. Love you, Mom. See you later!” 

The door slammed shut behind him as the wooden porch steps creaked under his feet. 

The walk to Northvale was, thankfully, 15-20 minutes. 

Izuku kept his head down, wired earphones tucked in, shuffling through songs he felt matched the mood. 

Chinatown by Wild Nothing played softly in his ears down the sidewalk, lined with trees that looked halfway between the seasons.  

Some still held onto summer's green, but most had already turned to crisp shades of orange and amber, fluttering quietly in the breeze. 

*** 

Izuku made it to Northvale High with five minutes to spare. The school looked the same as always. red brick, wide steps, and a student body buzzing with nervous energy and way too much caffeine. 

Homeroom was already filling up by the time he pushed the door open. 

Northvale offered honors core classes, and he'd been in the same one since freshman year—same teachers, same curriculum, same painfully familiar faces. Katsuki Bakugo and Ochako Uraraka included. 

The room was full of first-day chaos. Mina, Tsu, and Uraraka were catching up near Momo’s desk while Denki, Kirishima, and Sero were cracking jokes at each other. Mr. Aizawa wasn’t here yet, but it was like that since freshmen year. So far, typical school day. 

He glanced across the room, nervous about everything still. Then he spotted him.  

Katsuki, already there, slouched in his chair near the windows, headphones in, staring out like the whole thing bored him to death. 

That hour in his room came flooding back the moment those ruby eyes met his. 

They held eye contact for two seconds. 

Izuku looked away first. Then, he headed towards his seat, which just so happens to be in front of Katsuki’s... 

“Hi Kacchan...” Izuku mumbled as he set his bag down, desperate to know if the boy is okay with the seating arrangement. 

“Hey, nerd.” 

That name again. Will this become a habit? 

“Sorry for the seating arrangement,” Izuku said quickly, “I know it’s probably awkward— “  

His chair moving closer to Katsuki’s desk by accident. 

“What are you sorry for?” Katsuki replied, removing his headphones and letting them rest around his neck. 
“It’s not like you’re the teacher. Relax.” 

Eye contact held again with a soft silence. 

This time, Katsuki looked away first, reaching for his bag. 

The classroom door opened quietly as Mr. Aizawa entered.  

Izuku turned to the front, fingers brushing the zipper of his own bag. 

The first day of school is finally beginning. 

*** 

After surviving the chaos of homeroom, Literature and World History, Art class felt like a reward. 

Izuku had loaded up on required credits early, so this year, he finally got an elective that didn’t involve stress. The art room smelled faintly of clay and pencil shavings, and the lights were warm, not the cold overheads of every other classroom. He slid into a seat near the back, choosing the corner table like always. Quiet. Safe. 

“Is this seat taken?” 

Izuku looked up. A boy with straight brown hair and dreamy brown eyes stood beside the desk, sketchbook tucked under his arm. 

“Oh, uh, no. Go ahead,” Izuku said. 

The boy sat down with a casual smile. “I’m Akio. I just moved here over the summer. Still figuring out where everything is.” 

Izuku nodded, trying to seem friendly but not too intense. “I, uh, moved too. Just across town, though. Not far.” 

“Still counts,” Akio replied, flipping open his sketchbook. “New walls are still new walls.” 

Izuku let out a small laugh at that, surprised someone talked to him. 

“What’s your name?” Akio asked gently, making eye contact. 

“I’m Izuku. So, when did you move?”  

What’s with all the eye contact today? Izuku thought. Akio’s gaze made him nervous. 

“Hm, I think mid-August? My family wanted me to spend my senior year at a more well-ranked school.” 

“I’m guessing you’ve got big dreams then,” Izuku replied, wanting to let his guard down. “So, you’re at the right school then!” 

Akio chuckled, “Seems like someone’s got school pride.” 

“Spending your whole life in this town does that to you.” 

They both smiled. A new friend , Izuku thought. 

Mr. Yamada burst through the door with his usual style, introducing himself with a loud voice and too much excitement for 11a.m. Their assignment today was simple; decorate your portfolio with things that make you...you! 

“Akio, are you in the honors program then?” Izuku was searching for his pencil case. 

“Yeah, I know there are two groups for it. I’m in the second group.” Akio was focused as he began to sketch on his folder. 

“Oh, so you’re with Shinso, Kendo, and Monoma!” Izuku commented.  

“Correct. Are you in the other group?” His eyes looked up to meet a pair of green eyes. 

“Also correct,” Izuku replied, unintentionally making eye contact. Which was a mistake. Akio’s brown eyes held the earthy tones of autumn, Izuku’s favorite season. It was like staring into a nicely brewed cup of coffee, pulling you into its warmth and mystery. 

Izuku quickly looked away first, wondering why he couldn’t hold eye contact today. 

The rest of class was filled by more chatter between the two boys, small questions to get to know one another. 

Izuku mentally noted that liked Akio’s presence, it was different from his homeroom classmates.  

*** 

Izuku squeezed into the lunch table just as Jirou pulled some joke Denki, making the whole friend group laugh.  

“Jirou! How could you do that to me!” Denki yelled, loud enough for the whole cafeteria to hear. 

Still catching her breath, Jirou grinned. “I’m so sorry, it’s just—you reminded me of Pikachu, and this idea popped into my head during class.” 

She held up a printed meme of Pikachu’s body with Denki’s face photoshopped on it, taped to his seat. 

Izuku giggled to himself, happy that his senior year would be spent alongside the friends he loves. 

The table was chaotic. Conversations overlapping the buzzing of students, bags rustling, laughter bubbling up like fireworks. Mina and Uraraka were watching something on a phone, heads leaning close together. 

Then, Uraraka looked up. She caught Izuku’s gaze and smiled, soft and familiar, like old times. She gave him a little wave. 

Izuku waved and genuinely smiled back. 

He waited for the ache. That pain he carried in the beginning of summer from his confession.  

But it didn’t come. His heart didn’t ache the way he’d thought it would. Right now, he felt no heartache at the girl he once liked. He smiled to himself internally, wondering when that happened.  

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Akio, who also smiled and waved at him, carrying his lunch tray. Izuku returned it with a smile and wave back, still feeling warm. 

Katsuki was sitting not far from Izuku, residing next to Kirishima. The pair was chatting, Katsuki carrying his usual facial expressions, while Kirishima was the one whose face was painted in various expressions. For a split second, Katsuki looked at Izuku. 

The conversation held by the others distracted Izuku, so the boy never noticed. The rest of lunch went peacefully, Izuku chiming into the group’s conversation once in a while.  

*** 

The last two core classes were Calculus and Earth Science, then rewarded by a fun PE class. A nice way to end the school day. 

Glances between classes kept being shared between Katsuki and Izuku, yet not words were spoken since homeroom.  

Lockers lined the hallway leading to the gym entrance for Izuku’s last class. Northvale didn’t require students to switch clothes for PE so Izuku headed straight to the bleachers once he pushed the door open. 

Half white, half red hair caught Izuku’s eye. Todoroki is in my class , Izuku thought, immediately heading to sit with the boy. 

“Hey Todoroki! Mind if I sit with you?” 

“Ah—Midoriya. Of course not, sit.” The boy moved his bag and rested it on the floor, giving Izuku room to sit down.  

“I didn’t know you were in my class, Izuku.” 

“Me neither, I only just spotted you right now,” Izuku chuckled. “Thank god it’s the last class of the day. I can’t do this today.” A sigh escaped Izuku’s mouth. 

The boy beside him smiled, “Real, but at least it’s PE class. I was zoning out in biology.” 

As Todoroki spoke, familiar brown hair caught Izuku’s attention. He straightened his back and waved to the familiar boy.  

“Hey! Akio!” The boy quickly recognized the direction of his voice. Akio spotted Izuku and rushed to him. 

“Izuku, hey. Were we supposed to change? I didn’t see anyone go the locker rooms, so I just followed the crowd to the bleachers.” 

Izuku giggled, “No, we aren’t required to change. Some do, but it’s optional.” He grabbed his bag, placing it on his legs. “Oh—Akio, this is Todoroki. Todoroki, this is Akio.” 

“Hello, nice to meet you,” Akio extended his hand out. The other boy shook it. 

“Hello, nice to meet you too, Akio.” 

“Are you two in the same honors group?” Akio finally sat down beside Izuku, causing Izuku’s body to warm up slightly. 

“Mhm,” Todoroki nodded. “You must be in the other group. You look smart.” 

“Why thank you. I am indeed, to both assumptions.” Unanimously, the boys chuckled. Akio glanced at Izuku, making sure the boy laughed. From that point on, Akio got to know Todoroki the same way he talked to Izuku in art class.  

The final bell rung, interrupting the boys’s conversation. Hundreds of students rushed out of the gym doors, desperate to go home. Izuku bid the two boys goodbye, walking out the exit. 

Usually, students gather at the entrance of Northvale high. They wait for friends to either hang out after school or to walk home together. Izuku would join his friends, but he needed to head home. He was exhausted, his lack of sleep catching up to him was a sign.  

Fingers searching for wired earphones occupied the boy as he walked down the stone path, leading to the street ahead. He plugged the earphones into his phone, shuffling through Spotify for music. Earphones then met his ears, finally allowing Izuku to enjoy a walk home. 

Once again, trees in between the seasons fascinated Izuku’s eyes. He truly loved autumn, every single thing about it was comforting and cozy to him.  

What he hadn’t realized until much later was that Katsuki was walking the same way as him. The blonde probably didn’t realize this either, focused on his path, never once looking back. Izuku made no attempt to walk over, unsure of how to even spark up a conversation with him. But deep inside him, a part of him wanted to. The only thing stopping him was the road that separated their sidewalk and Izuku’s nervousness. 

The blonde headed to the left after a while, reaching the boys’ shared street. Izuku walked forward, heading straight to his light blue house. He couldn’t talk to Katsuki casually yet, 6 years of silence and awkward conversations weren’t the best ways to restart a friendship. 

The voice of his mother practically woke Izuku from his thoughts as his fingers curled the doorknob, opening the door. 

“Izuku! Hi honey!” Her hug from the morning was squeezing him again. “How was your day? Is senior year exciting? It is, isn’t it?” Inko was blurting out questions, not letting his son answer. 

“It’s definitely going to be a year...but today was good. I made a new friend who recently moved into town.” Water brought him back to life after that walk home. The glass clicked against the countertop as Izuku continued, “Give me 5 minutes, I’m going to my room to put my stuff down. I’ll come back down, and we can watch movies while I tell you about my day.” 

“Sure honey! I'll wait for you.” 

The wooden stairs creaked beneath each footstep, leading to Izuku’s room. His backpack rested on the floor, leaning against his desk. He collapsed onto his bed, drowning in the coziness of his bed with an exhausted sigh, and a hand running through his green curls.  

The bed creaked beneath him as he sat up gently, listening to the faint hum of the house, then headed downstairs in silence. His mom was already comfortably on their beige couch, scrolling through movies.  

Curling himself up on the couch beside his mom, spending the evening chatting and watching movies like the pair always did. They talked about everything and nothing, the TV playing quietly as the hours passed. The only thing that lingered in his heart was the tension of old memories, new beginnings, and the silence in between. 

Chapter Text

The rest of the week was wrapped in a fast yet gentle blur. Every student already memorized their schedules and classrooms, new friendships flourishing, and sadly, schoolwork was finally being assigned.  

The thrill of senior year could never beat the rewarding feeling of a well-earned weekend. Some spent it working or hanging out, but Izuku used it for his hobbies. With his mother being away at work for the majority of the days, he took care of deep cleaning the house. Once he was done, he’d binge movies while painting or filling pages in his sketchbook. 

When school rolled around on Monday again, everyone got back to their usual school rhythm effortlessly.  

Homeroom and the first two classes of the day worked his classmates' brains way too early in the morning, sparking deep convos and questions for literature and history. 

Izuku was getting used to art class, a time where he can relax and reset.  Akio was still being the youthful and kind boy, constantly making easy conversations that left Izuku smiling by the time the bell rang. 

Lunch was always crowded with his friends who seemed to get louder every day. Uraraka still kept saying hi and waving to Izuku, which he reciprocated with.  

PE was also starting sports, which awakened the trio of boys. 

For the past week, Katsuki would always walk to school and home the same way as Izuku. So really, everything and everyone already had their routine set out. 

The only thing that Izuku noticed was that on Wednesday and Friday, Katsuki was nowhere to be seen on his walk home. As much as Izuku wanted not to be curious about why that was, his mind wasn’t at peace, constantly wondering where the boy went. Or rather, who he was with. 

Wait. He doesn’t need to know who the blonde was with. It wasn’t his business. He shouldn’t care, so why did that unanswered question bother him so much more? 

Whatever , he thought. It’s not like we’ re friends for me to ask him even if I did want to know.  

The day his mind battled these thoughts was a Wednesday, the third day since school started that Izuku noticed Katsuki’s pattern. 

When he got home, he ate a small tangerine and went straight to his room. His mother was still at work so there was nothing to do downstairs. He had some homework to do, but he’d decided to do it later. The second his head hit the pillow, everything shut off. He didn’t take his shoes off or change into PJs, that’s how tired he was without realizing. He was out cold, dozing off without even meaning to. 

*** 

Green curls rolled over for the tenth time, gentle dreams filling his mind. The sun warmed him up without the need for blankets.  

The head-splitting sound of his ringtone broke the silence. 

A whine slipped Izuku’s lips as he reached for his phone beside him.  

Pressing the phone to his right ear, “…Hello?” His eyes begging not to be opened. 

“Hi, honey. Were you sleeping?” His mom’s voice answered Izuku.  

“Mhm, don’t worry about it though.” His hand rubbed his eyes. “Did you need something?” He sat up slowly, blinking away the sleep. 

“Oh, sorry, sweetheart. I do need you for a quick favor. Mitsuki asked me, earlier in the day, if I could drop off her baking utensils. I borrowed them yesterday to make a small batch of muffins, and I forgot to return them.”  

Without Inko seeing her son, she knew Izuku was listening intently. She’d always nag him about not paying attention to her, so he learned to always listen to his mother when she needs something. 

She continued, “Oh, yeah, I left you a muffin in the microwave. Anyways, could you do me a favor and return them before I forget?” 

Izuku was now fully awake as he stood up from his bed, making his way downstairs. “Sure, mom. And thank you for the muffin! I’ll eat it later. Anything else?” 

“Ah, yes. Please tell her I said thank you! Okay, bye bye, honey! I’ll be home at around 7. Talk to you later!” She hung up without letting the boy answer.  

Luckily Izuku already had shoes on, so he immediately went to his kitchen to search for the borrowed baking tools. His mom had laid them on the drying rack. He grabbed them with his left hand as he placed his phone inside his jeans’ right pocket. 

When he opened the front door, a beautiful sunset was painted across the cloudless sky. He walked down his porch, heading straight to the Bakugo’s house, which was a couple houses down their shared street. 

Oddly enough, he still remembered their typical two-story, white-wooden suburban house. He’d spend so many days in that house as a kid, playdates with Katsuki while his mother chatted with Mitsuki for hours. They were nice memories. 

As he reached their driveway, he noticed 3 shiny cars parked. Oh wow, they’re richer than I remembered, Izuku thought. His eyes appealed to one particular car, a glossy red sports car. He continued to walk up their concrete front path. 

Izuku’s index finger gently pressed the doorbell, a chime faintly heard from inside.  

The door had big yet blurry glass in the center, surrounded by an intensely brown wood. The glass made it slightly easy to identify the figure of whoever came to open the door. Straightening up, Izuku was slightly nervous to speak to Mitsuki after so many years. 

“Yes?” Familiar spiky blonde hair peaked out, “Oh, Izuku!”  

“Hi, Mitsuki.” His lips couldn’t hide the smile he had, he used to love this woman. She was the mother of his old best friend. 

“Hey kid! Come on in!” Her body stepped forward, stopping the door as her hands gestured for the boy to walk inside. 

Izuku didn’t plan to walk in or stay for a while, but it’d be nice to say hi. Plus, he’d have an excuse to do his work later. Thus, he stepped into the home he hadn’t been in for over half a decade. 

Everything else in his life had changed since. But this house? It seemed like not a day had passed. Entering the house welcomed him a short hallway, decked by a few picture frames. Even the pictures hadn’t changed. It was still images of Mitsuki and Masaru’s wedding day and a few of Katsuki when he was a kid, which he always complained about, but his mother didn’t care. 

Their living room was to the right-side at the end of the hallway, with their kitchen on the opposite side. A flight of stairs was glued to the far wall of the living room, leading to their upstairs. 

Masaru was lingering at the kitchen’s marble island, a glass cup of tea sat between his outstretched arms. 

“Honey, we have a guest.” Mitsuki walked around the island, heading to her husband’s side.  

“Oh my, if it isn’t Izuku!” The man was the gentle presence of the family. He didn’t interact much with Izuku growing up, a couple “hi’s”, but never a closer bond. Yet, the two treated each other with respect and kindness. 

“Hello,” Izuku replied shyly, he really didn’t expect to talk to the whole family at this point.  

Mitsuki sounded out, “So Izuku, what did you need? Let me guess, Inko sent you.” 

“Mhm,” Izuku nodded. “She asked me to walk over and return your baking tools. She’ll be home late, so she wanted me to make sure you had them before she forgets.”  

Izuku held out the three baking utensils toward Mitsuki. “She also wanted me to thank you for letting her borrow them.” 

“Ah, you’re such a sweetheart. Thank you for bringing them over.” The lady received them and turned around, opening their corresponding drawer. “Your mother told me she wanted to bake something, but she forgot she threw away her past tools when you guys moved.” 

“Talking about moving, Izuku, we are so happy to see you again. It’s been a while.” Masaru exclaimed, his genuine smile and comment from the man warmed Izuku.  

“Ah—yes, it’s so good to see you! I know my kid’s a brat and you guys didn’t talk for a while, but I hope you two can be close friends again.” The woman once again faced Izuku. 

Did the couple know about what happened between their son and Izuku? Surely not, but with the meddling town they lived in, it was possible they knew. Izuku hoped they didn’t. He didn’t want to talk about it, not to them nor anyone else, except with maybe the boy who they mentioned.  

A smile from Izuku, “It’s nice to see you two, as well! I’m sure my mom and I will be paying you a visit soon, like old times.” 

As soon as he said that, a blonde boy came down the stairs. Once Izuku recognized the boy, he burned up. He was afraid the boy heard him say old times, unsure if the boy even wanted that back in his life. 

The couple turned to face who Izuku glanced at, immediately realizing who it was. 

“You brat, about time you came down. Greet Izuku.” Mitsuki blurted out, sensing the awkwardness. 

Izuku wasn’t sure if he did want to talk to the boy. His curiosity about walking home still bothered him slightly, so he did want to talk to him. But he was afraid the blonde might not feel the same way.  

Katsuki seemed just as surprised and troubled as Izuku. The boy getting closer to the kitchen where everyone was. He quietly muttered, “shut up, old hag”, but only Izuku heard that. 

“Hi, Izuku,” his voice quiet as he reached up to rub the back of his neck, unsure of what to say next or what Izuku was doing at his house. 

“H-hi Kacchan,” green eyes couldn’t handle this, immediately looking away. 

The couple shared a look, quickly glancing at each other before Mitsuki spoke. “Alright boys, I’ll give you time to talk.” 

Masaru followed behind his wife as they both left the island, heading upstairs. 

“Katsuki, you better be nice! And make sure you see him out!” 

Wait, what?! Izuku’s mind jolted him back to reality. Did they seriously just leave us alone?!  

“Oi! Wait!” 

But to no avail, his parents were already upstairs. 

Silence once again crept between the two boys, both uncertain of what to say or what just happened. 

Katsuki stepped over to the island, back leaning against it with his arms crossed. A low groan escaped him before muttering, “I don’t know what the hell those two are thinking…” 

Izuku still wasn’t used to being near the blonde, even after sitting near him everyday in homeroom. 

Izuku turned his face to glance at Katsuki, wanting to say something. But when he looked over, the boy was already looking at him. 

“So,” Katsuki said, voice low, “what are you here for?” 

“Oh, um, my mom borrowed some baking tools from your mom. She asked me to drop them off.” He shifted his weight and leaned his back against the island too, mimicking Katsuki’s pose. 

“Oh, so that’s where they went.” 

“Huh?”  

“I couldn’t find those utensils when I got home today. I had plans to use them but it’s whatever.” Katsuki’s gaze was on the dinner table in front of the two boys. 

“Wait… Kacchan, you bake?” Izuku’s tone came out more teasing than he meant it to. Since when did Katsuki bake? 

“Tch, it’s not a big deal.” He looked at the boy beside him, the faintest pink reaching his ears. “You think I can’t follow a damn recipe?” 

“No! I mean…I just didn’t picture you as a cupcakes-kind-of guy.” A grin spread across Izuku’s face, bumping his shoulder against Katsuki’s. 

That grin immediately stopped when Katsuki raised an eyebrow. 

“Sorry…anyways—“ 

Katsuki didn’t let that go. “You got something against cupcakes, or me baking them?” 

“What?! No!” Izuku stopped leaning against the island. “I like people who bake!” 

Katsuki smirked. 

“Wait—no, I meant that people who bake are admirable!” 

Izuku held eye contact, cheeks burning from embarrassment. 

“You talk too much,” Katsuki said as he walked over to the fridge. 

“I’m sorry.” He did talk too much, overexplaining everything once he panicked. 

“Didn’t say I hated it.” 

Izuku blinked. He turned his head to face Katsuki, who was looking inside the fridge for something. 

“Water?” Katsuki asked, not looking up. 

“No thanks.” 

Katsuki got himself a water bottle, slamming the door as he cracked it open. 

Izuku shifted on his feet. “I should start heading home…” Izuku needed the comfort of his home. He’d embarrased himself too much already. 

Katsuki didn’t hesistate. “Come on, I’ll walk you.” 

He left the bottle on the kitchen island, already stepping towards the door. His focus was on Izuku now. 

Izuku hesitated in the doorway. “You really don’t have to…” 

“I know,” Katsuki muttered. “Still doing it.” 

Katsuki opened the door for Izuku, letting him pass first, walking down the front path. Izuku’s eyes flickered once again to the red shining sports car.  

“You like my car?” Katsuki said, behind Izuku. 

“Your car?!” Izuku turned immediately to face the blonde. 

“Yup,” Katsuki gave a smug look. 

“Wait, if it’s your car, then why don’t you drive to school with it?”  

“Why would I waste gas when it’s a simple walk?” Katsuki continued to walk, but it was obvious it was a slow pace.  

Izuku casught up to him, walking beside him. “Well, you’re not wrong…” 

Now was the moment Izuku could ask about Katsuki walking home, without sounding like he pays too much attention to the blonde. 

“About your walk home…” Izuku said quietly. Katsuki stopped walking, causing Izuku to look up. 

The boys looked both ways before quickly rushing to cross the street. When they reached across, they continue their slow pace. 

“Do you use your car to get home on Wednesday’s and Friday’s?”  

Izuku finally voiced what had been bothering him. He prayed the blonde didn’t think too much of what he had just asked. 

Katsuki processed the question for a while, confused about what the boy meant. Once he realized, he blurted out, “Oh!” 

Izuku looked up. 

Katsuki continued, “Those days I stay after school a while to play volleyball with some guys. Just fun practice ‘til our season starts. I still walk home, just later.” 

Oh , Izuku thought.  

“That’s nice,” Izuku said as they reached his front path.  

“You’ve been paying attention to me, huh?” Katsuki smirked, his gaze on Izuku. 

Izuku should’ve just stayed curious. Of course Katsuki would tease him. 

“Well…we walk the same way so it’s impossible not to notice.” Nice cover, he thought. The boys stopped walking as they reached Izuku’s porch. 

“You’re right.” 

“Anyway, thank you Kacchan for walking me over. You seriously didn’t have to.” 

“I needed refresh air, don’t worry about it.”  

Izuku began to walk up when he heard the boy behind him say something. 

“Oi, be outside your door by 7:30.” Katsuki said as he watched Izuku. 

Confused, Izuku turned around. “For what?” 

Katsuki’s voice was serious. “We’re walking together tomorrow morning.” He turned his heel and walked off. 

As he crossed the street, he yelled, “Don’t make us late nerd!” 

Izuku’s eyes were focused on the blonde. What just happened…  

His hand turned the doorknob, stepping into his home. He pulled his phone out of his pocket. Unlocking it, he opened his mother’s contact. His fingers typed:  

[Izuku]:

I’m home mom

Mitsuki said no problem  

(delivered)

Izuku made his way to the microwave, hungry for his muffin. As he opened the microwave, his thoughts traveled to the blonde one more. 

“I’m walking with Kacchan tomorrow…” He grabbed a napkin. “Just like old times…” 

He quickly ate, remembering he had work to do. Once he finished, he washed his hands and hurried to his room.  

He spent the rest of the evening doing his homework, then watched movies until his mother arrived. 

Izuku didn’t mention that he’d be walking with Katsuki or that he walked him over. He simply told her how he talked with Masaru and Mitsuki, which his mother was glad of. 

When he headed to sleep, he let his mind replay his evening. The Bakugo family remembering him. Discovering that Katsuki bakes. The awkward pauses between the two boys. The way Katsuki slowed his steps to match his. Katsuki’s voice in the kitchen. Katsuki teasing him. The way Katsuki wanted to walk together the following morning. 

Izuku groaned into his pillow, rolling onto his back once he collapsed onto his mattress. 

I need to stop thinking about it. His mind wouldn’t let him.  

He shut his eyes and let the quiet hum of his fan pulling him into a deep sleep, thoughts trailing off into distant echoes. 

Chapter Text

The familiar sound of Izuku’s alarm rattled against his nightstand, way too loud for early morning. He’d have to get used to this sound for a few more months, at least in this time of the morning.

Izuku groaned into his pillow, unprepared for the day. He blinked, 6:45, and closed his eyes one more time.

With a heavy sigh, the boy took off the covers on top of him and stood up quickly. He did this to avoid falling asleep again, and it always worked!

Footsteps against his floor carried him to his door, opening it to the hallway. The boy headed towards the bathroom across his room, entering quietly to not wake up his mother.

He followed his usual morning routine—brushing his teeth, washing his face, taking a quick shower, and finally putting on clothes for school.

Today was a Thursday, a day that for some reason, he associated with the color blue. Accordingly, he dressed up with a white tank, layered with a navy-blue short-sleeves flannel and denim blue jeans. All nicely tied with a pair of white sneakers.

He checked himself out in the mirror, proud of his fit. Even his hair cooperated! Suddenly, he remembered the person that replayed in his mind last night.

The walk to school, with Katsuki Bakugo.

He blinked fast, hoping the nervousness would stop. But it didn’t. It was just a walk. But it wasn’t.

It was a walk with the person who he once talked to everyday.

For a second, Izuku thought about why he’d been getting so tense and nervous whenever being alone with the blonde. But he quickly dismissed that when he noticed his phone said 7:25 a.m.

It couldn’t hurt to be a tad bit early, therefore, Izuku made his way downstairs. He headed to his door, quickly grabbing his keys and putting his phone in his pocket before stepping out.

As he closed his door, he noticed the blonde boy also leaving his home.

He walked down his steps and front path, rushing to cross the street before any cars drove by. Katsuki hadn’t yet noticed Izuku, eyes focused on his phone as he walked on the sidewalk. When he looked up, he saw a green haired boy waiting for him on his street.

“Hey, nerd.” Katsuki said, phone sliding into his pocket as he retouched his hair.

“Hi,” and before he realized, Izuku’s eyes began to drift to the boy’s entire figure.

Katsuki was wearing dark blue jeans, tied with a black belt and a simple white t-shirt. Nothing extravagant. Yet the boy looked appealing. The white t-shirt hugged his body nicely, especially around his chest and arms.

Izuku could admit that. Ever since they were kids, the blonde drew the attention of anyone with eyes. Is that why Izuku tensed up whenever he was near him? He’d known that the boy was what most considered “pretty”, but he never once thought about it until now.

Izuku blinked. Since when did pay so much attention to how the blonde looked like? His clothes, his hair, the way he carried himself, and how his clothes tug against his body—Okay…This has to stop, Izuku thought.

Katsuki began to lead the way, walking at the same pace as their shared evening the day before.

“So, are you always this quiet in the mornings?” Katsuki asked while looking at Izuku.

“Hm? Oh, sorry. I guess I was just remembering something...”

In retrospect, he was remembering something. When the pair were kids, they walked everywhere together. Their moms were constantly worried sick, wondering where their boys could’ve gone.

Izuku was only looking back on how ever since he moved, there are small moments where his past with the boy seems nonexistent. Almost as if the Katsuki with him right now isn’t the Katsuki back then. Like both boys are trying to put that behind and be normal again. But could that ever happen?

Katsuki hummed at Izuku’s answer, unsure of what to say. Breaking the silence, “It’s funny, I was remembering how this crack,” he pointed to the sidewalk they were sharing, “has been there since we were 10.”

Izuku looked down, “Oh yeah! You used to jump over it like it was lava. And when you did, you’d scream how you were the best.”

A soft laugh was let out by both boys.

Izuku continued, “I used to think you were cool when you did that.”

“That’s ‘cause you were smaller than me, nerd.” A glance from Katsuki. “Still are by the looks of it.”

Izuku side-eyed the boy beside him. He wasn’t that short compared to him.

“How tall did you get anyway, Kacchan?”

“5’9, and still growing,” a smirk tugged at Katsuki’s lips.

“Woah…and I thought my 5’7 was pretty average.”

“You know what’s average?” Katsuki shoved his hands into his pockets. “Your small collection of CDs.”

Izuku looked up at the blonde, confused as to how the blonde knew that.

The two boys stopped near a church, both looking both ways as cars drove past, making it impossible to cross the street.

“I saw you organize your CDs that day, you idiot. Quite the collection you had.”

A car finally stopped. The boys crossed together, sneakers against pavement. The day in Izuku’s room popped into his mind, finally remembering what the blonde was referring to.

“Are you indirectly saying you like my music taste?” Izuku returned a smirk.

“As if,” Katsuki scoffed, but the corner of his mouth twitched like he was hiding a smile. “I was surprised you actually had good taste. Didn’t think you had it in you.”

Izuku laughed under his breath, “You act like I only listen to lullabies or something.”

“Who knows, you might still,” Katsuki shrugged.

Northvale’s block finally came into view, a giant hill with the school resting at the top like a fortress.

“So Mr. Music,” Izuku bowed dramatically. “Which of my CDs are worthy of your royal approval?”

Katsuki rubbed his chin like he was really thinking. “I saw an Arctic Monkey’s one. ‘AM’ album, right?”

Izuku’s eyes lit up. “Yeah! I bought it last year. I wanted to give them a try after all the hype on social media.”

They reached the foot of the hill, crossing the street together one last time.

“What’s your favorite song from ‘AM’?” Izuku asked.

“Probably ‘R U Mine?’” Katsuki said. “The drums and guitar are fucking beautiful.”

For a second, Izuku’s heart skipped a beat. When the blonde said “are you mine”, Izuku didn’t register it as the song title.  Izuku’s mind went nuts. What on Earth am I thinking?! Why did my heart even do that…

“…Yeah,” was all Izuku managed to say.

They walked up the hill in an unbroken silence. There wasn’t much to say, they’d only just discovered a common interest. However, Izuku learned he had a soft spot for their morning walk. He admitted to himself that he liked relearning about Katsuki.

“Hey, Kacchan?” he said suddenly, keeping his eyes fixated on the stone path ahead.

Ruby eyes quickly locked on Izuku.

Izuku softly said, “Thanks for making the walk less boring. I enjoyed it.” His voice was low, almost shy and embarrassed. But, he needed to say this to the blonde.

Katsuki physically tensed up, surprised at the comment. What the hell was he supposed to say? What did Izuku want him to say?

A hand reached up to Katsuki’s neck. He rubbed the back of his neck as his eyes looked away from Izuku immediately after his comment.

“Yeah, whatever.”

The boys entered the school in a comfortable silence, heading straight for the flight of stairs. Their classroom was on the third floor. The soft squeak and impact of sneakers scraped the polished school floor.

Opening their classroom’s door, Izuku stepped in first as Katsuki followed behind. The whole class noticed the rare interaction of the boys. Yet, no one asked either one about it or made a ruckus about it. They knew the past of the boys, or at least the fact that they were once childhood friends who no longer talked. Only a few knew the actual story.

Katsuki took his seat behind Izuku, dropping his bag beside his desk, resting it on the floor.

Izuku placed his bag on top of his desk, dragging his chair closer to his desk as he sat down. Searching for his pencil case, he couldn’t help but want to ask the blonde something. He felt a pull to do so, but he was rethinking it, afraid of the boy rejecting his request.

As he finally decided to turn around and ask Katsuki what his heart was restless for, the classroom door opened, and Mr. Aizawa stepped in. Izuku just continued to focus on class, maybe his request would seem too pushy anyway.

Classes then passed in a blur. Literature seemed to drag on, endlessly, while history filled everyone’s brain with key events and figures of some revolutionary movement.

Not that these subjects weren’t interesting, but Izuku’s mind was itching to ask the blonde if the walks to school could happen more often. Despite their past, he wanted to just be friends with Katsuki again, maybe re-do the friendship they both left behind.

As the final bell of the school day rang, everyone slammed shut their notebooks, rushing to leave. Izuku and his classmates in PE finally sat down on the bleachers after an intense match of badminton, thirsty for water.

Akio and Todoroki grabbed their bags, exhausted from competing. Todoroki simply bid the two boys goodbye before walking off, while Akio lingered around Izuku for a while. He watched as the boy finished his water bottle.

“You’re pretty good at badminton, Izuku.” Akio’s eyes flickered over the boy.

“Says you, you beast.”

Akio was unbeatable, causing Todoroki and Izuku to spend the entire class trying to win at least one game.

Akio smiled at Izuku. “Yeah. Anyways, I’ve gotta head home. Bye, Izuku.” He gave a quick wave to the boy still sitting and made his way toward the gym doors.

Still catching his breath, Izuku reached for his bag, watching as everyone else left. A few minutes later, he stood up, exchanging quick goodbyes with some classmates. Just as he was waving to someone, a familiar low and unmistakable voice caught his attention.

“You coming or what?” Katsuki muttered quickly, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder.

Izuku blinked, momentarily frozen in the hallway. “Wait—are we...walking home together? “

“We walk the same way, don’t we?” Katsuki tossed the words over his shoulder as he started walking ahead. “Don’t make it weird, dumbass.”

Izuku, despite being confused, smiled to himself. Maybe this was their thing now…? Whatever it was, he found himself wanting this, ever since the morning. And maybe, just maybe, Katsuki did too.

Their walk was a little quieter than the morning. Both boys seemed to be exhausted by their classes, both mentally and physically.

“I still can’t believe that we’re seniors,” Izuku commented, wanting to spark a conversation.

"Yeah, well... it’s about damn time. Feels like we’ve been in school forever."

“Oh right! Have you gone big like you wanted to?” The boy remembered his conversation with the blonde in his room, the first day in his new house.

“Hm,” Katsuki searched his memory before answering. “Does smashing a volleyball on Denki’s face count?”

Gagged, Izuku immediately turned his face to the boy’s confession. “You what?! Oh my gosh, is he okay?”

“Yeah. It’s not my fault he zoned out mid game. He was probably looking at Jirou walking past.” Katsuki had no sense of guiltiness in his voice, only making Izuku feel bad for the boy he hit.

“Kacchan, you can’t do that, regardless of where their focus is.”

Katsuki just snickered to himself, amused by how worried Izuku could get.

Izuku sighed. “Poor Denki… I think you might’ve knocked out the last few brain cells he had.”

Katsuki let out a short laugh. “Please, like he had any left to begin with.”

That made Izuku smile, and after that, the rest of their walk passed in a fading sunlight and scattered conversation. Cars hummed by in the distance, the air was cool against their skin, and the town slowly quieted around them.

By the time they reached their street, the sky had dipped into a soft orange-pink. Katsuki gave a lazy wave, already turning toward his house.

“Later, nerd.”

“See you tomorrow,” Izuku replied, his voice light as he watched his friend walk away.

***

The next morning, they walked to school together again, like it was a given now. This time, their rambling spiraled into a full debate on which parts of a song held its soul.

Izuku argued that a song’s entire purpose lay in its lyrics, words born from something the artist was desperate to express. Katsuki countered that it was the instrumentals that carried the emotion. Every beat, synth, bassline, and rhythm pulsed with feeling. The debate was chaotic, oddly passionate, and exactly the kind of conversation Izuku hadn’t realized he needed.

He liked this version of their mornings. Easy and unplanned, like a little surprise. There was something comforting in how Katsuki could go from quiet to oddly specific conversations with him.

The rest of the morning passed on like usual, slow and heavy, as if minutes stretched into hours. The only thing Izuku genuinely looked forward to on Friday was art class.

Fridays were his favorites. Mr. Yamada allowed his students to choose any medium, encouraging them to paint or draw freely. It was meant to boost creativity and help them discover which materials they enjoyed most.

Izuku loved working with watercolors and gouache, the softness of the mediums made his paintings fun to do. Akio usually stuck to pencil sketches, rarely dipping into paint.

The two boys always walked out of class together once the bell rang for lunch. Then, they’d split up at the hallway near the cafeteria, each drifting to their own friend groups. Which meant, for a brief moment, Izuku was alone.

As students swarmed the cafeteria doors, a light tap on his shoulder made him turn.

“Hi, Deku!” Uraraka’s sweet voice matched the light tap on his shoulder.

The thing is…the name “Deku” was the whole reason Katsuki and Izuku stopped being friends.

It started as a dumb inside joke. Katsuki gave Izuku that nickname back in elementary school. But as they got older, others twisted it into something else, a taunt or a way to shut Izuku down. By middle school, “Deku” was less of a joke and more of a wound.

But things changed when high school started.

It was Uraraka who reclaimed it. One day, someone from his middle school bumped into Izuku and spat out the name like venom. Before he could shrink into himself, Uraraka stepped in. A clear and unafraid voice quickly shut down the person’s torment. From that moment on, “Deku” became something softer. A sign that she’d seen him when he felt invisible. A reminder of the day they became friends.

Back when he liked her, he adored that she called him that.

Now, after seeing and talking to Katsuki again, hearing the name made something in him go quiet. No resentment. No spark. Just a lingering void he couldn’t name. Like a page left open in a book he wasn't sure how to finish.

Izuku blinked, pulling himself out of the spiral and back to the present.

“Hey, Ochako,” he replied softly, curious and caught off guard by her sudden appearance.

She gave him a bright smile. “Are you free tomorrow? I was wondering if we could talk for a bit...about last year. You know, before summer and everything.”

This wasn’t unexpected, they were bound to talk about it one day. However, Izuku didn’t expect it so soon. Her bringing it up so directly made his chest feel weirdly tight.

“Uh—yeah,” he nodded quickly. “I’ll be free. Wanna meet up at the cafe on the ave?”

“That works,” she smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Thanks, Deku.”

He smiled back, even if the nickname didn’t feel the same anymore. Just as she was about to say something else, Izuku’s eyes flicked toward the hallway behind her.

Katsuki. He was walking past them, one hand on his bag’s strap while the other one remained free by his side. Brows slightly furrowed like always, but his eyes glanced at Izuku. Just for a second...before he looked away and continued his day.

Izuku didn’t know if Katsuki had overheard anything, but the timing made something in his stomach twist. He looked away quickly as well, feeling strangely self-conscious.

Uraraka turned slightly, quickly catching Katsuki’s figure disappearing into the lunch crowd. “He’s been surprisingly calm this year,” she noted.

Before Izuku could respond, his eyes caught, yet again, a familiar brown-haired boy leaning against a pillar near the other said of the cafeteria.

Akio. He wasn’t close enough to hear, but he was watching. Not in a creepy way, but like he was curious and observant.

Whatever this timing was, it made Izuku feel like something unsaid was happening all aorund him.

Uraraka said bye with a smile and a small wave before walking off to meet her friends. Izuku stood there for a second longer, still processing the conversation.

Tomorrow would be the day he’s been waiting for since summer began. Where he would get closure and perhaps reconnect with his friend.

He exhaled, running a hand through his curls as he finally turned toward the cafeteria, slipping into the noise of a Friday lunch.

Later, as the final bell rang and students poured out of Northvale like water flooding from a cracked dam, Izuku found himself glancing toward the spot he met up with Katsuki yesterday in the hall.

Katsuki wasn’t there.

Volleyball practice, he remembered. Right.

Still, it felt weird not walking beside him this time. Even though it was still a new routine for both boys, it felt like something had quietly gone missing from the day.

He adjusted the straps of his backpack and walked home alone, the sky soft with hints of early dusk.

***

The sun had already begun to dip low by the time Izuku stepped through the front door. The smell of home sweet home greeted him first, followed by the voice of his mother humming in the kitchen.

“Welcome home, honey!”

He kicked off his shoes and wandered in, backpack set beside the couch. “Hey, mom.”

She looked up from the sink, “Everything okay? You looked tired.”

Izuku leaned against the dinner table and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. Just...a long week.”

Inko smiled knowingly, grabbing a small towel to dry her hands. “Senior year already wearing you out?”

He chuckled. “That, and I agreed to meet up with Ochako tomorrow. She said she wanted to talk.”

At that, Inko turned. “Ochako?” A grin appeared on her face. “You mean the Ochako?”

Izuku’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What do you mean the Ochako?”

“Oh, nothing,” she said innocently, clearly not meaning it. “Just the girl you spent hours giggling about in your room a few months ago.”

“Mom!” He shouted embarrassed. “It’s not like that. We’re just talking.”

Izuku’s mother never knew that her son confessed to the girl. Or why he’d been rejected. He debated about telling her many times before and even considered telling her right now. But he decided he’d tell her another time.

“Mhm,” Inko teased, a sparkle in her eyes. “That’s how it always starts.”

Izuku rolled his eyes but smiled away. “You’re impossible.”

He grabbed his bag and headed upstairs after a bit of small talk. The evening settled quietly after that. Dinner, shower, pajamas. But as he laid in bed later that night, staring up at the ceiling, he couldn’t shake the kindness of Uraraka’s smile. It felt different yet the same than he’d remembered. He also couldn’t forget the way Katsuki and Akio acted differently when he was near the girl.

He didn’t know what to expect tomorrow. It could bring answers, or maybe more questions. Either way, it was coming, forcing him to face her and his once broken heart.

Chapter Text

Morning sunlight crept in through Izuku’s curtains, too bright for a Saturday morning. The few days he can sleep in. He hasn’t been up for long, but the weight of the day already felt too heavy on his chest. He reached for his phone before getting up.

His lock screen read 10:14 a.m and a single text glowed on his wallpaper.

[Ochako]:

hey wanna meet up at the café around 3? Sorry to text you so early 😣

He stared at the message for a second longer than necessary before replying back:

[izuku]:
don’t worry, sounds good!!

(message hearted)

He threw on an old shirt and running shoes, deciding he needed to shake off whatever he felt. Just a quick jog around the block. The streets were mostly empty, occasional dogs and sprinklers still running. By the time he got home, he felt lighter.

Breakfast was a simple omelet with a toasted bagel as he watched a show he left off on. He cleaned up after, swept a little, wiped down the counters. It was one of those mornings with nothing to do before going out later. Better to clean a bit than sit around doing nothing.

At around 1, he took a refreshing shower, his muscles all tired and loose by his run. He stood in front of his closet for a minute, chewing his lip before grabbing a light blue short-sleeved button up and throwing it on with a pair of beige jorts. White converse completed the look perfectly. It was a causal fit for a casual talk.

He quickly ran a bit of product through his curls, fluffing them out until they sat just right. With a quick spritz of his favorite cologne, he felt ready.

At around 2:20, he finally texted his mom.

[Izuku]:
heading out right now

I’m meeting up with Ochako at the café

Her reply was immediate.

[Inko]:

Ooh okay sweetie 😏 be careful on the street please!

He groaned softly as he eased his phone and wallet into his pockets. Plugging in his earphones, he stepped out his door, locking the door behind him before heading off. And just like that, he was on his way.

The walk to the ave was a sight to enjoy. At first, rows of cozy houses and neatly trimmed lawns painted Izuku’s path. A few cars hummed by, the kind of background noise he barely noticed with music. The sun was out, not too harsh, casting a warm filter over the quiet neighborhood.

His footsteps were steady, rhythm matching the beat of his earphones. It was a peaceful, and a little boring. Familiar and predictable.

But as he made a turn past the last block, the scenery shifted drastically.

The “ave” was the nickname given to the town’s busiest street. Shops lined the long stretch of road, everything from bookstores to thrift shops to cafes and chalkboard menus, string lights hanging across awnings. The sidewalks were fuller here, students of Northvale, parents with strollers, couples walking hand in hand.

The kind of downtown Pinterest is famous for. A place to do nothing for hours yet have something to do.

Izuku glanced as he walked, not spotting any classmates he needs to stop for.

The agreed upon café sat between a florist and a small barber shop, welcoming people with its freshly baked goods and alluring coffee smell. A faded maroon sign read Whose Coffee? caused Izuku to look up. He recognized the lofi music that played loud enough to hold conversations.

As Izuku neared the entrance, his eyes flicker to the bring clear windows of the café and there she was. Uraraka sat a small table near the glass, chin resting in her palm as she scrolled on her phone. Her hair was put back with cute hair clips and she looked casual, like she’d also put thought into today.

And for a second, his stomach flipped. He remembered how last year he would’ve done anything to go on a date with her, seeing her like he is right now. But he realized he wasn’t nervous like that anymore, those butterflies he once felt weren’t the ones causing this feeling right now.

He reached for the café door, the little silver bell above chiming as he stepped inside. Uraraka looked up, her facing lighting up the second she saw him.

“Deku!” she said, sitting up straighter and giving him a small wave.

He smiled, walking over to her table with that nervous earthy bubbling in his chest. “Hey,” he said softly. “Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”

“Nope, I just got here,” she replied, even though her empty mug said otherwise.

Izuku pulled the chair out and sat across from her, placing his phone face-down on the table. Up close, she looked just the same as always but something in the air between them had shifted. Maybe it always had been there, and now they were finally going to say it out loud.

“So…” he started, glancing at the window for a second before meeting her eyes again. “Thanks for texting. It’s good to see you.”

She smiled, “Of course, I didn’t realize we never agreed on a meet up time.” She handed him a menu, offering to order a drink before starting their conversation.

Izuku ordered a simple hazelnut latte before directing his focus back to the girl in front of him. He took a deep breath and just as he was about to say something, Uraraka spoke up at the same time as him.

“I’m so sorry!” they said it unanimously, causing customers inside to turn to their noise.

They looked up at each other and chucked.

“Well, I’ll go first, Ochako,” Izuku declared. “I wanted to apologize for last year. I hate that I put us—our friendship, I mean—in an awkward place.”

Uraraka was listening intently, a small smile on her face.

Izuku continued. “I seriously didn’t know…you know… and if I had, I never would’ve put you on the spot and caused our friendship to become the way it has.”

There was a soft silence between them, one of the café’s employees bringing Izuku his drink as he finished speaking.

“Deku, it’s also my fault that everything happened the way it did last year,” Uraraka confessed. “I’ll explain the first part of this later but over the summer, I was afraid to face you...”

Coffee made its way up Izuku’s straw and into his mouth. “Ochako, seriously, it’s fine—”

“No, it’s not fine. I knew I hurt you and I didn’t know if jumping back into being friends was the right thing. Not after everything. But then I saw you at school, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that you deserved more than how I left things.” Her voice was soft, raw with guilt. “I’m so sorry for shutting you out…running away from you this summer.”

The sincerity in her voice hit Izuku deep. Without thinking, he reached out and took her hand.

“I promise you weren’t the only one who was scared,” Izuku said, gently tracing his thumb over her fingers. “I barely talked to anyone this summer. I was too embarrassed…too ashamed.  Especially around you. I thought I’d completely ruined our friendship.”

Uraraka let out a small laugh, eyes soft. “It’s funny, isn’t it? We were stuck in such different headspaces, but we were both terrified we ruined everything.”

Izuku hesitated, gently placing his hands on his cup as he prepared to ask the girl something important to him.

“Can I... ask you something?”

Uraraka nodded. “Of course.”

He glanced down, nervous but curious.

“How did you know? That you liked girls, I mean...or wait, I— “

Uraraka blinked, a little surprised by the question, but not in a bad way. A small smile appeared on her lips again, like she’d been expecting this question.

She folded her arms on the table, thoughtful.

“No, that’s fair,” she said, voice low but warm. “I guess... it was a bunch of little things or signs that one day clicked. I’ve been trying to figure out how to explain it too.”

Her fingers began to trace her coffee mug as she voiced her story. “In my sophomore year, I was at a tennis match against our rival school—Riverside High—and there was this girl.”

She placed her hands on her lap as she continued. “She was so different from me, in every aspect. We became friends despite the rivalry, and suddenly I was acting like a dork around her—like how you used to be with me.”

She glanced up at him, laughing softly. “That’s when I knew. It wasn’t just a ‘friend crush’, because that’s what I used to think it was until, one day… I thought about it in a way I hadn’t let myself think about before.”

Her tone was honest, a little vulnerable, but also clear. She trusted Izuku enough to share this. Something she doesn’t owe anyone, but she shared it regardless.

“I began to write down what I felt for this girl. And little by little, I realized this wasn’t just friendship. Everything I wrote sounded less like a friend and more like love.”

As she spoke, Izuku nodded slowly, her words sticking to him longer than expected. That quiet want to be close to someone… He thought of Kacchan and then Akio. And then he blinked the thoughts away. No. Maybe. Not right now, he thought.

She scrolled quickly on her phone, soft pink phone case wrapped in her delicate hands. Then, turned the screen toward Izuku.

“This is my girlfriend,” her eyes flicking fondly to a photo of a blonde girl. “I confessed to her a few days before you confessed...and she felt the same. We’ve been dating since then.”

The girl in the photo really was beautiful. Izuku told her so, and Uraraka lit up, gushing about her for the next few minutes.

And as Izuku listened to her, he couldn’t help but be happy. He didn’t wonder if he could’ve ever made her this happy, or any jealousy. Just happy she was being loved the way she deserved to be. The way her voice sparkled when talking about someone who made her feel seen.

Most of all, he was grateful for this moment. The quiet return of being best friends who could tell each other anything and everything.

They lingered in the café a little longer, catching up on how school had been so far. Only two weeks in, but the familiar rhythm of class schedules, hallway dynamics, and group chats had already fallen into place. It was easy to laugh again, to talk without the weight of last summer pressing down on them.

Just as Izuku took the last sip of his latte, something outside the café window caught his eye.

Kirishima passed by with a small group of guys, Katsuki walking right beside him.

Kirishima spotted Izuku first, waving with his usual bright grin. Izuku raised a hand, offering a smile back.

Katsuki didn’t wave. He didn’t smile. He only glanced inside, sharp and fleeting, and kept walking.

For a second, Izuku didn’t move. He just sat there, eyes still fixed on the sidewalk outside, trying not to let the glance mean too much.

The pair inside sat up shortly after, the sun hiding low as a sign to start heading home. The tiny bell above chimed softly behind them as they stepped out.

Then, in perfect sync, both of their phones buzzed in their pockets.

Chaos Crew lit up across their screens.

[Mina]:carne asada tmrw at the park!!! bring snacks losers

[Sero]: we’re all going right??

[Kirishima]: duh. bring your energy!!

[Momo]: I’ll bring exquisite food to grill!!

[Ochako]: omg i almost forgot 🫢

[Izuku]: i’ll be there!

[Unknown]: the food better be good you idiots

Izuku stared at the screen, blinking once.

“The food better be good you idiots.”

A typical Katsuki message. Aggressive. Rude. Direct.

His thumb hovered over the notification a second longer than it needed to. It wasn’t the message that got to him, it was the name at the top: Unknown.

No emoji. No nickname. Just the stark reminder that Katsuki’s number hadn’t been saved since middle school.

Izuku chewed on the inside of his cheek.

He didn’t have to save it. They weren’t exactly friends. Did the walks count…Maybe not…But still…

Click. Add to Contacts.

His fingers hesitated again, then typed:

Bakugo

Then deleted it. Typed:

Katsuki

Deleted that too.

He settled on:

Kacchan

Simple and not awkward…right?

And yet, his heart still thudded a little louder when he locked his phone, slipping it back into his pocket as the breeze picked up. Uraraka was already a step ahead, talking about what snacks she should bring tomorrow.

Izuku smiled softly as he caught up.

Tomorrow was going to be… something.

Chapter Text

Northvale, being the kind of community it is, often held carne asadas at the park, unofficial gatherings that felt more like family reunions than public events. These weren’t hosted by the city or anything official, but by the people themselves.

Momo’s parents usually took the lead in organizing, but every family pitched in. Sero was always in charge of the grill, proudly bringing and cooking the meat, always the best carne asada around. Everyone else brought drinks, snacks, desserts, or whatever they could offer.

Not every family showed up, people worked, had things to do. But these days, it was mostly the students of Northvale who kept the tradition alive. It was a full-day excuse to hang out, eat good food, and be around the people you grew up with. Parents mostly lounged around, catching up with their own friends over drinks.

The park where the carne asada was being held sat just a block off the Avenue, right in the heart of town, close enough to hear music and laughter echo down the street.

Inko had heard about it from Mitsuki, who texted her earlier that morning. So, she roped Izuku into a quick grocery run to grab a few soda packs from the store near the Ave.

By the time they arrived, Sero was already there with his family, helping Momo’s parents set up the grills and folding tables. Not long after, Iida and Todoroki pulled up, arms full of extra chairs and stacks of disposable plates.

More families trickled in by the minute. Little kids tore through the grass, teenagers clustered in loose circles joking around, and the adults were still busy hauling coolers and cracking open beers. The whole place buzzed with movement and summer heat.

Uraraka showed up alone and spotted Izuku right away, walking over with a bright smile and a lot energy.

Two of the long picnic tables had already been claimed by students from Northvale, covered end to end with snacks, sweets, and drinks. It looked like a festival, chips and cookies spilling out of bowls, soda cans hissing open, music playing from someone’s speaker.

The sun was bright and relentless, casting everything in bright light. It was one of those days that looked prettier than it felt. A little too hot and humid for being outside all day.

As he scanned the park, he noticed his mom sitting under one of the trees, her expression a little off. He walked over, concern creeping into his chest.

“Hey, Mom,” he said gently, crouching beside her. “You okay?”

Inko looked up, her eyes soft but tired. “Oh, honey… it’s so hot. I’ve got such a headache right now.”

Without hesitation, Izuku grabbed a cold water bottle from one of the coolers nearby and handed it to her. She took it gratefully, and he stayed with her as she drank, rubbing her back in slow, soothing circles.

Standing up slowly, Inko reached for her son’s hand. “Izuku, I think I should head home… It’s just too hot.”

“Wait, Mom—”

She gave him a look, gentle but firm. “You stay, okay? Don’t let me ruin your weekend. Just make sure you get home on time. You’ve got school tomorrow.”

She leaned in and kissed his cheek, then waved goodbye to a couple of nearby parents before heading toward the sidewalk.

Izuku watched her walk away, nerves creeping up the back of his neck. “Text me as soon as you get home, alright?” he called after her.

She raised her hand in acknowledgment without turning around, her steps slower than usual.

He stayed standing for a moment, chewing at his bottom lip. His mind was already spiraling. What if she got dizzy? What if something happened and he wasn’t there?

Sensing the shift in his energy, Iida came up beside him. “Midoriya, she’ll be okay. But if you’d like, we’ll stay with you for a bit.”

Uraraka nodded, bumping his shoulder playfully. “C’mon. You’re too sweaty to be this serious.”

“Your mom’s tougher than you think,” Todoroki added, already sitting in the grass like this was just another Sunday.

They pulled him into light conversation, joking about Sero’s grill skills, teasing Uraraka about stealing the best dessert off the table too early. And it worked, a little. For a few minutes, Izuku let himself laugh and stop checking his phone every other second.

Twenty minutes later, his screen lit up.

Inko: Just got home!

He let out a long breath, his shoulders finally dropping.

“She’s home,” he said with a tired smile. “All good.”

Just as he was finishing the sentence, something bright caught his eye. A flash of spiky blonde hair moving through the crowd.

Kirishima was striding into the park, grinning wide with Mina at his side, practically bouncing with excitement. And right behind them, a little slower and much less enthusiastic, was Katsuki.

Katsuki was carrying a bag of ice, one hand gripping the plastic tightly while the other rested casually in his pocket. His outfit was nearly identical to the day he helped Izuku unpack: a plain black tank top, no silver chain this time, and dark-wash jeans that hung just right.

And for a split second… Izuku wanted him. Like, wanted him.

God, he looked good. His arms were stupidly toned, veins visible as he shifted the bag higher. Broad shoulders, sun-kissed skin, collarbones that Izuku had no business staring at and—what the hell was wrong with him?!

One moment he was praying for his mother to get home safe, and the next he was thirsting after Katsuki Bakugo.

Which, okay, maybe that reaction was impossible to not have. But still!

Heat rose to his cheeks. He spun around too fast and made a beeline for the nearest cooler, yanking out a water bottle like hydration would purify his brain.

Get it together, he scolded himself, twisting the cap open with shaky fingers. It’s just the heat. That’s all it is. It’s just a heatstroke and I’m overstimulated. What other reason could it be! Because why would I even think of him like that!

A voice pulled him out of it, someone’s parent asking if he could snap a photo of their family. Izuku blinked, grateful for the distraction, and took the phone with a small nod.

“One, two, three… Cheese!”

The sun was high, casting golden light over the smiling family as they posed. The kids grinned with juice-stained mouths, their parents leaning in behind them. Izuku took the picture, handing the phone back with a soft thank-you from the mom. It left him feeling oddly warm, like witnessing something gentle.

Turning back toward his friends, he spotted Uraraka standing with Mina and Kirishima. The brunette was hugging Mina tightly, her face half-buried in the other girl’s shoulder, while Kirishima laughed nervously, scratching at the back of his neck.

Izuku smiled faintly, until a voice cut through the air, halting him mid-step.

“Oi. Nerd.”

Izuku froze mid-step, like someone had hit pause on his whole body.

He turned around slowly…and there was Katsuki, standing just a few feet away, arms crossed now that he’d dropped off the bag of ice. Sunlight cut across his shoulders, highlighting the slope of his neck and the faint sheen on his skin.

Oh my god, Izuku thought, panic bubbling in his throat. Not now. Not two minutes after mentally undressing him.

“M-Me?” he asked, voice embarrassingly high. He pointed at himself like there might be another boy behind him.

Smooth. So smooth.

Katsuki raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, you. Who else?”

Izuku’s mouth opened, then shut. His face was on fire.

“You good?” Katsuki asked, squinting a little. His tone wasn’t harsh, but there was a note of genuine concern under it, like Izuku’s fluster was actually throwing him off.

“Y-Yeah!” Izuku said too fast. “I’m good. Totally fine. Just—it’s hot. Like, temperature-wise. Not—uh—not like—”

Katsuki’s stare sharpened slightly.

“I meant the weather,” Izuku mumbled, practically choking on his own embarrassment.

“Where’s auntie?” He looked around before continuing. “I’d thought she’d be here with you.”

Finally! Something Izuku answer without being flustered. “She went home. The heat was making her feel sick.”

The blonde simply hummed.

“What about your parents?” Izuku stepped a bit closer to the boy without realizing.

“The hag is on a date with my old man. They had a reservation for a fancy dinner or some shit.”

Izuku softened. “Aww. That’s kinda sweet.”

“Gross,” Katsuki shot back immediately, making a face. “They’re too romantic. She probably made him wear a nice suit.”

Izuku laughed. “They’re cute, though.”

Katsuki just clicked his tongue and looked away, like he didn’t want to agree out loud.

Before Izuku could say anything else, a voice nearby called him.

“Hey, Izuku! Could you help with the grill for a sec?” Sero’s dad waved him over. “We gotta grab something from the car.”

“Uh—me?” Izuku looked around, panicked. “I—I don’t really know how to—”

But the man had already jogged off.

He turned toward the grill and stared at the sizzling meat like it was a final exam. “Okay, uh. Flip these? Or poke them? Oh my god, do I poke them?”

Katsuki walked over and let out a sharp breath through his nose. “You’re about to set the park on fire.”

“I didn’t ask for this job!” Izuku hissed.

“Move over, dumbass.” Katsuki grabbed the tongs like it was second nature and flipped the meat with practiced ease. “You don’t poke them. You watch them. Color, texture, smell. Use your senses.”

Izuku stood to the side like a clueless assistant. “Since when are you so good at cooking?”

Katsuki smirked. “Since freshmen year. Had to learn how to cook my own shit or I’d be eating like trash all the time.”

He flipped another piece of meat, completely in control.

And for a moment, Izuku just admired him. There was something admirable about it. Not just the cooking, but the fact the blonde had grown up and stuck with new skills and gotten good at it. He clearly cared about doing things right.

Izuku shifted slightly, feeling a tiny buzz quietly in his chest. God, he thought, he really has changed.

Before he could say anything else, a familiar voice called out from behind.

“Hey, Izuku.”

Izuku turned, surprised. “Oh—Akio!”

Akio walked up with a relaxed smile, his younger brother toddling along behind him and his parents walking off.

“You made it,” Izuku said, stepping away from the grill.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Akio said. Then his eyes slid toward Katsuki. “Didn’t realize you’d be helping with the cooking.”

“I’m not,” Izuku replied quickly. “I was supposed to help, but I nearly ruined it. He saved me.”

Akio smiled and extended a hand toward the blonde. “Hi, I’m Akio.”

Katsuki finally glanced at him. “Bakugo.”

He didn’t take the hand. Just gave a quick nod and turned back to the meat.

Akio let his hand drop but didn’t seem too bothered. His gaze lingered on Katsuki for a second longer, then flickered to Izuku. And for a moment, a long moment, it stayed there.

Right on Izuku’s lips.

Katsuki had just slightly turned to glance back at Izuku when he saw it.

He didn’t say anything. He pretended like he saw nothing, but his jaw twitched. The sound of sizzling filling in their silence.

Akio’s little brother tugged at his shirt, asking something about snacks, and Akio crouched to whisper something before the kid ran off toward their parents.

As he stood back him, his eyes skimmed over Izuku’s outfit: a baggy white football jersey, light-wash jorts, and his usual converse.

“You into football?” Akio asked, nodding toward the jersey.

“Oh—” Izuku looked down like he’d forgotten what he was wearing. “Not really. I just liked how it’s easy to style.”

Akio smiled.

Izuku titled his head, smiling a bit. “What?”

“You don’t seem like the football type,” Akio commented, and then added, “No offense.”

“None taken.” Izuku laughed, a little bashful. “Don’t you play a sport?”

“Basketball,” Akio said easily. “It’s nothing huge, I’ve heard Northvale’s team is decent. So, I’ll be joining the team.”

Izuku’s smile widened. “That’s cool! I’d love to see you play sometime, outside of PE.”

That made Akio pause. “Yeah? You’d come to a game?”

“Of course,” Izuku answered. “I mean, I don’t know the rules, but I’d love to.”

Katsuki stayed quiet, still tending the grill. He hadn’t looked up once, but Izuku noticed a small shift in his posture.

“Well then. I guess now I’ve got a reason to win when my season starts.”

Katsuki let out a dry scoff.

“Oi, nerd,” he said flatly, flipping a piece of meat again. “Maybe try learning how to not burn shit instead of flirting.”

The words hit sharp and abrupt. Flirting??!

Izuku blinked. “What—I wasn’t—!”

Akio grinned like he found the whole thing funny.

Before either of them could respond, Monoma’s voice cut across the park.

“Akio! Stop slacking and get over here!”

Akio sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s my cue.” He turned to Izuku, smile softening. “Catch you later?”

“Yeah,” Izuku said, still flustered. “Later.”

Izuku stood there, cheeks warm. He didn’t realize what Akio meant by the “a reason to win” until Katsuki cut in.

The blonde didn’t say a word, flipping the last piece of meat and moving it to the tray with the others.

Was the brunette really flirting with Izuku? No, it can’t be, he thought. Katsuki probably had it all wrong. Izuku isn’t used to being flirted on, so maybe that’s why he didn’t see it as that. But there’s no way Akio liked Izuku like that...right? He’s probably just being friendly since he just moved in.

The silence between them felt thick. Like there were words sitting under the surface, waiting for one of them to speak first.

Izuku wanted to know how the blonde could ever think they were flirting. Let alone how he caught it before Izuku.

“Food’s done,” Katsuki muttered.

Sero’s dad finally appeared, carrying the trays over to the picnic tables where other adults were handing out plates. The crowd moved with practiced rhythm. Older folk directing kids, teens cutting in line, someone opening a cooler and handing out sodas.

Plates filled with meat, rice, potato salad, bags of chips being tossed around like currency. A few people brought fruit cups with Tajin and chamoy, others with desserts in foil-covered trays. Izuku balanced his plate with both hands, eyes darting around the scene. Everyone looked happy.

“Listen up!”

Mina's voice cut through the crowd as she stood on top of a table. “Before school drags us into academic hell, I want to plan a trip!”

A few people cheered, mainly teenagers who were close friends of Mina.

“An indoor waterpark, so you party poopers can’t complain about the sun or the weather being chilly.”

Now they were listening.

“Specifically, the Dreamworks Waterpark at the American Dream Mall. We’ll go next weekend. You can invite your friends and of course my friend group is coming, no ‘buts’. However, y’all are paying for yourselves because none of us are rich.”

That got laughter.

“Oh, and we’ll set up carpools. Claim your rides now or get there somehow.”

Excited murmurs rippled through the tables. People started mentally sorting rides, checking in with friends, forming a group chat.

Izuku sat down with Todoroki and Uraraka, glancing over at Katsuki across the grass. He was eating quietly with Kirishima and Mina, eyes locked on his food.

Later, after everyone had eaten and things began winding down, Izuku stood up to throw his plates out. Akio coincidentally also tagged along, walking toward the trash bin.

“Hey, you think you’ll go to the waterpark?” Akio asked casually.

Izuku shrugged. “Maybe. I’ve gotta ask my mom.”

Akio smiled, “I’ll go if you go.”

Izuku’s heart fluttered. “Oh…” was all he could say, remembering their previous interaction. Only now did Izuku realize how direct he was.

He was saved from any more awkwardness when they bumped into Uraraka coming up.

“Oh, sorry!” she said with a smile, stepping aside. Her eyes scanned the two boys, lingering a second too long on Izuku’s face.

And that’s when she noticed something.

Akio tossed his plate and said he’d catch up with his family. Uraraka lingered beside Izuku as he wiped his hands on a napkin.

“I’m so full,” he muttered. “I think I might walk around a bit. Just to move.”

“Too much soda?”

“Too much everything.”

As he stepped away, another voice cut in.

“I’ll go with you.”

Izuku turned. Katsuki stood a few feet back, plate in hand.

“It’s too damn loud over here,” he added.

Izuku nodded. “Okay.”

The park was known for quick walks, a place for kids and adults to enjoy exercise or fun. The boys agreed on a single lap around the park. They passed by a couple swings first before entering the forested park.

They walked for a minute in silence, the late summer sun casting long shadows across the grass. Laughter echoed in the distance, a speaker was turned up, and a mix of various music genres played faintly.

“The food was good,” he said, trying to sound casual. “I think I overate, though.”

Katsuki simply replied, “It was whatever, I helped at the end anyway so that’s probably why it’s so good.”

Izuku let out a soft laugh. “Okay, sure.”

A few more steps passed in silence. The emptiness of the soccer field they were passing by, water fountains dripping water, all highlighting the liveliness of the party away from the boys.

The blonde finally broke the silence. “So…you and round face, huh?”

Izuku froze for a second. “What?”

“I saw you two talking. Yesterday, at the cafe.”

The flash of Katsuki’s glance yesterday at the café flooded Izuku’s mind.

“Oh, yeah. We just hung out yesterday. That’s all...”

“You guys dating or something?”

“No!” Izuku blurted out quickly. “I mean... I liked her last year. But I don’t anymore. Not like that.”

Katsuki gave a small nod, no hum or grunt.

Izuku’s voice lowered, curious as to why the boy assumed that. “Why did you think that...?”

Their eyes met, neither looking away once Izuku asked the blonde his question.

“You made it really obvious last year, that you liked her, I mean. So I assumed it was official when I passed by yesterday.”

A groan from Izuku. “Was I really that obvious last year? Gosh...”

Katsuki looked away, a mix of a soft laugh and amusement.

After a moment, Izuku titled his head, a little hesitant. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“How do you act when you like someone?”

Katsuki gave a short, humorless laugh. “Seriously?”

“I’m serious,” Izuku affirmed. Something in him wanted to know.

The boys were reaching the kid’s section of the park, near the end of the trail they were walking.

“I don’t know. I’ve never liked anyone, like ever.” The blonde kept his gaze ahead, answering honestly.

Izuku let that sit. The silence feeling loaded again. How could someone not have had a crush on anyone,like ever? Especially a boy like Katsuki. He was what most girls wanted. Except maybe without his indifference to the world.

Most of all, if he’s never had a crush on someone, how was he able to tell Izuku liked someone and someone flirting on the boy? I should just stop thinking of this and change the subject, he thought.

And once again, an urge inside Izuku wanted to ask Katsuki that was unknown. A small yet big question that bothered him slightly. Something that probably should be easy to define but is hard to, considering the boys' past.

Barely above a whisper, Izuku asked, “I might sound crazy but...what are we?”

Were they friends? Still strangers who they once knew? Were their shared walks automatic repairs for damaged friendships? Izuku needed to know.

He never planned to reunite with the blonde, even with being in the same town all their lives. He imagined a silent and imaginary agreement between the two boys that they would never try to be friends again, at least with knowing how Katsuki is. But the walks they silently agreed upon, the changed attitude with each other, and all their previous interactions, all caused Izuku to wonder what it meant.

Katsuki stopped walking.

Izuku did too, turning to face him.

For a second, Katsuki didn’t respond. Simply looking at the curious boy beside him with an unreadable expression. And for a moment, his mouth parted like he might say something different. But instead said:

“Just...neighbors.”

It stung. Even if Izuku had expected a cold answer, it hurt. Not because it was cruel. But because it was careful. Like Katsuki didn’t consider anything the way Izuku had. Like he was the only one overthinking everything, blinding his common sense.

Izuku swallowed, forcing a nod. “Right.”

Of course they were just neighbors. He had just moved houses. It’d be awkward to not speak to your neighbor, especially when your moms are best friends. Neighbors, that word would slap Izuku everytime he even considered that the boys were more.

Their silence only lasted a short minute now, the boys already on their way back. But the ache stayed between them, pulsing like their heartbeats.

The crowd was thinner now, many families packing up chairs and leftovers. The sky had gone dusky orange.

Suddenly, someone called out for the blonde.

“Yo, Bakugo!”

An old classmate approached, one from the boys’ middle school, laughing as he nudged Katsuki’s shoulder. He leaned into the blonde’s ear.

Izuku was simply observing, not wanting to speak to him. He expected the classmate to whisper, but he spoke too loudly and Izuku heard.

“Looks like you and your Deku are back together, huh?” A wide grin was the boy’s face.

Katsuki’s entire body tensed.

“We’re not—” Izuku started, afraid of the past catching up to them.

However, Katsuki stepped forward, grabbing the guy’s shirt collar, pulling him in close.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” his voice was sharp, mean, and serious.

The guy threw his hands up, chuckling, but Katsuki’s expression was locked, jaw clenched, his hands in a fist.

“You heard me.”

Denki came running into the quarrel. “Whoa whoa whoa, Bakugo, back off.”

Katsuki’s blazing eyes looked at Denki, who looked at him like he might murder someone. He scoffed, letting go of the boy.

“Don’t talk to me again, asshole.” The boy ran off, chuckling as he reunited with his own friend group.

Denki grabbed Katsuki’s shoulders, “he’s not worth it, alright?” His eyes caught Izuku observing, then back to the blonde. “He was just messing around, okay? Chill.”

The blonde shook off Denki’s touch, muttering to get the hell away.

Izuku watched everything. And he came to three conclusions.

One, Katsuki hadn’t changed. At least, not in his aggressive side. Whenever the blonde was ticked off, he resorted to his short temper and fists. Their old classmate knew this, everyone in the town did. And he just proved it to anyone who was nearby watching that Katsuki will always be that.

Two, the blonde had changed in a different way. He just reacted differently to the name Deku. Not like the way he did 6 years ago. Nothing like the way Izuku and Katsuki’s friendship ended.

And three, this was the moment Izuku noticed the blonde was only different to him. As cheesy as that sounds, Katsuki was different. To Akio, he acted uninterested. To the classmate, he almost attempted murder. But when it came to Izuku, he had changed entirely. He was calmer, like how Uraraka mentioned a few days ago.

Or was Izuku imagining it? Maybe the blonde was just different because he knew Inko could find out. After all, she doesn’t know of their past. That must be it.

Just then, Mina bounced over with her phone in hand and a can of soda in the other.

“Izuku!” she beamed. “You’re coming to the waterpark, right?”

“Um—maybe? I need to ask my mom, and I don’t know how I would get there—”

“Oh, just ride with us!” She grinned. “Me, Kirishima, Todoroki...Bakugo.”

“Uh—”

“I’ll text you!”

From across the lawn, Katsuki’s voice came, flat and quick.

“No, I will.”

Izuku turned.

The blonde was already walking past him, hands in his pockets.

“Auntie will most likely let you go if I go. I’ll text you. Pinky will probably forget anyway.”

Deep inside, Izuku warmed up a bit at the fact Katsuki was confident he knew his mother so well. Like he also held onto their childhood a bit.

“Alright, thanks, Kacchan.”

“Bye, nerd,”

Izuku watched him go. “...Bye.”

He lingered near the tables as people finished cleaning up, texting his mom he was heading home. His head was pounding with everything that happened today.

“Hey, Izuku!”

Akio was walking up from nearby, his phone already out as he had a casual smile on his face.

“Do you mind if I get your number?”

Izuku hesitated, still flustered from their previous moments. Katsuki’s comment about the date replayed in his head, unsure if Akio really was flirting or being friendly, and how Izuku was so oblivious to it.

“Yeah, sure. I don’t mind,” he said softly, and started typing as the boy stood closely beside him. It couldn’t hurt to just be friendly with the brunette.

Chapter Text

The blinding stadium lights, the chaotic blur of movement in the stands as the marching band pounded out a familiar fight song, brass and drums echoing off the metal stands. This was Northvale’s pride and life.

Despite the small town’s size, the high school was famous for its academics and ambition and drive for athletics.

The home side was packed shoulder to shoulder, knees knocking, everyone half-sitting, half-hovering on the metal bleachers that felt like they might collapse under the weight of school spirit alone. Maroon and white everywhere, on shirts, on cheeks, smeared in messy lines across foreheads. The school’s mascot, eagles, printed big on jerseys that both students and players wore.

Someone had a flag draped like a cape. Someone else had glitter in their eyebrows. The marching band was borderline screaming from the sidelines as their team had the ball in possession. It was loud in the way that made your ears buzz even during the quiet moments. Not that there were any.

The other team sat all the way across the field, a solid block of navy and gold or whatever their colors were, it was hard to tell in the dark. Their cheering section was decent, sure, but this was a home game. Northvale’s game. And it showed.

There were barely any seats left, people standing two rows deep behind the top of the bleachers, others pressed against the fence just to get a view. The smell of nachos and something deliciously deep-fried drifted through the air, mixing with the sharp scent of turf and sweat and early fall.

It wasn’t perfect. It never was. But it was senior year. And nights like this? They didn’t come back around.

Hence why Uraraka urged Izuku to start showing up to Friday football games more often.

He’s been to games before, but the loudness of everything and everyone was not his favorite thing in the world.

Regardless, he went because he didn’t want to be stuck at home with nothing to do. His mom would be home late anyway, and he didn’t have homework. Plus, cheesy fries sounded good.

Izuku arrived 10 minutes after the game started. He repeated “excuse me” and “sorry!” at least 20 times just to pass through the rows of bleachers. Uraraka waved at him, urging him to hurry up. She was sitting in the 5th row, but the stairs up the bleachers were so congested so it took Izuku longer to get to her.

“Yay! Deku, you finally arrived,” she said as she scooted over, careful not to drop her plate of cheesy fries.

“Hey, yeah, sorry. I went to the concession stand and bought us snacks,” he handed her a bag of Sour Patch Kids. “I’ve never seen the stadium so filled before.”

“Well, over 70% of the people here tonight are freshmen so. This is also probably the highest our school spirit has ever been. They’re so hyped for high school, it’s kinda adorable.”

As they settled down, they simply talked about some assignment they had for history and how it was so boring.

Uraraka then yelled, “Oh my god! Iida, you got this!” Her hands were clapping so loud, causing Izuku to remember why he avoided these places before.

Iida spotted them quickly as he was resting while the game was on. He beamed with excitement over their halftime show as any captain would.

“I’ve never seen Iida that excited before,” Izuku said, watching as their class president struck another dramatic pose near the front of the field. “He’s probably been planning these halftime routines since August.”

Uraraka snorted, trying not to choke on her fries. “He literally had them practicing flag tosses in the parking lot. I thought I was going to get impaled trying to walk across.”

Izuku laughed softly, letting the buzz of the crowd fade into the background for a second. This wasn’t really his scene, but watching the show unfold with Uraraka beside him made it easier to breathe.

He was about to say something else when a voice called out from the aisle.

“Izuku?”

He turned his head and nearly flinched.

“Hey,” Akio grinned, stepping up into their row. “I’m surprised to find you here. Thought you didn’t like football.”

Izuku shifted where he sat, caught a little off guard. “Oh yeah, my friend’s in color guard, so I wanted to see the show. Plus, you know, have fun tonight.”

Akio smiled like that was the best reason he’d heard all night. “Well, can’t argue with that.”

A few rows down, Tetsutetsu waved a hand. “Yo, Akio! We’re about to score, let’s go!”

Akio leaned in slightly, not quite close enough to touch, but enough to stir something in Izuku’s chest. “Try not to miss me too much,” he said, then gave a little wink and backed down the bleachers.

Izuku stared after him, blinking a few times like he needed to reboot.

Uraraka nudged him with her elbow. “Okay, that was definitely flirting.”

“I—” Izuku looked down at his fries. “He was just being friendly.”

“Mhm,” she hummed, popping another one into her mouth. “Friendly, my ass. That’s flirting for sure.”

“Ochako!” His face was so red.

Not only did two people now notice Akio’s directness but that Izuku was falling for it constantly.

“What?” She teased, acting innocent. Izuku remained silent, his heart beating a little faster than before.

She glanced over at him, concerned that he became so silent and shy. “Hey, you okay?”

“I-I don’t know,” his voice low and vulnerable. “It’s just…do you seriously think Akio is flirting? I mean, what if he’s really just being friendly?”

Uraraka put down the fry she was about to eat. “Well, you could be right. But it’s pretty obvious he’s into you.”

Izuku groaned, “But he’s always been like that. Since I met him. I didn’t think anything of it until recently when—“

He stopped. He didn’t say Katsuki’s name.

The crowd around them cheered as Northvale scored. Everyone jumped and screamed, but neither of them moved.

“Okay,” she said, turning to face him a little. “Back then, before you even thought he might be flirting, what did you think of him?”

“Just as a classmate,” Izuku replied quickly. “A cool person, I guess.”

“And now?”

He didn’t answer right away. His mind drifted to the carne asada, to the way Akio asked about his art in class, always cracking jokes, always seeing him.

He liked that. A lot.

And when he thought about the way Akio spoke to him, the things he said…

Yeah…he could definitely feel his face getting hot.

“I don’t know,” Izuku said, voice quieter now. “When he says stuff like that, my face just burns. I feel it all over. But I’ve never had anyone… talk to me like that. I don’t even know what it’s supposed to feel like.”

Uraraka offered her snacks to Izuku, listening closely despite all the noise around them. “Akio is charming, so your reaction is normal. I only met him last week but I’ve heard girls in my classes talk about him before.”

She continued softly, “You said you get flustered around him. That you blush when he says something. Have you ever felt that way about anyone before?”

Izuku hesitated. “Only you… but it wasn’t because you said anything. It was just… whenever you were around, I’d freeze up. I didn’t know what to do with myself.”

She smiled, letting out a quiet laugh.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing.” She said, stilling grinning. “It’s just… the way you’re describing how Akio makes you feel sounds a lot like how you used to act about me. And maybe that means something, don’t you think?”

His face turned crimson. He looked back toward the field, gripping the edge of his seat.

“Izuku.” She reached over and gently took his hand. “Look, I’m not trying to push anything. I’m just saying… your reaction to him means something. It matters.”

He stammered, “But how can you be sure? I mean, anyone would get flustered if someone was acting all… you know, charming or whatever. That doesn’t mean I—”

“I used to think that too,” Uraraka interrupted gently. “Before I figured it out. When a girl complimented me or looked at me a certain way, I’d get nervous and brush it off. I didn’t want to admit what it could mean either. But if it keeps happening with specific people, maybe regardless of gender, that’s something to pay attention to.”

Izuku fell quiet. Her words hit somewhere deep. He wanted to deny it, but they made too much sense. The way he felt around Akio, the weird, confusing flutter in his chest wasn’t something he could hide forever.

After a beat, he blurted out, “Wait Ochako.”

“Hm?”

“You noticed the flirting, right?”

She tilted her head. “Yeah?”

“Well, you’re not the only one.” He turned toward her, eyes wide. “Kacchan— I mean, Bakugo— he pointed it out too. And he’s definitely not interested in guys. So, what if we're just misreading things? What if Akio is just like that with everyone?”

Uraraka blinked. “Bakugo? Wait—are you two talking again?”

Izuku stiffened. “Uh… sort of.”

“Okay, first of all, what?! And second of all, he noticed Akio flirting with you?”

“Not in those words,” Izuku mumbled. “But he made a comment. Like, about Akio being flirty. And if he noticed, then maybe we’re just exaggerating it…”

She gave him a look, half patient, half amused. “Izuku. Come on. Do you really think Bakugo of all people is suddenly super tuned into reading people’s vibes? Or that he would even care enough to comment if it meant nothing?”

“…No.”

“Exactly. So if even he picked up on it, maybe that means it really was obvious.”

The marching band and color guard began line up as both teams were on time-outs. Half time was still a bit later, but Iida was known for his anxiety that caused his section to get ready in order to give one hell of a performance.

Uraraka raised a finger, “And don’t forget, Bakugo said Akio was flirting with you.”

Izuku just groaned, “Maybe he was just teasing.”

The players returned to the field. The noise dulled a little, giving the two a small pocket of space to talk.

“So,” Uraraka bumped Izuku’s shoulder. “Tell me more about you and your buddy.”

Of course she wouldn’t let it go.

“You know how I moved closer to school right? Well…Kacchan happens to be my neighbor now,” he muttered, avoiding her eyes.

“And I see you call him ‘Kacchan’ again.” She raised an eyebrow. “So are you two friends now? Did he apologize for what he did to you?”

That felt like a slap. She was right. Katsuki hadn’t apologized. Only now did Izuku realize that.

Izuku began stammering, “Okay, so...neither of those things happened exactly—”

“WHAT?!”

Heads turned. The students around them shot annoyed glances.

Izuku gave an apologetic smile and tried to quiet her. He caught Akio looking over, confused, but still smiling. Then he turned back to Uraraka.

“Okay, Ochako, wait, let me explain—”

“No! You’re telling me you two are just acting normal again? Like nothing happened? Izuku, what he did to you mattered.”

“It did,” Izuku admitted.

Middle school had been the worst, most confusing time of his life. But somehow, over time, he’d found closure. Forgiveness, even. No need for Katsuki Bakugo to ever give anything to him. Not like he ever would anyways.

“He’s changed,” Izuku added.

Uraraka stared at him.

“I promise! You even said he’s calmer now.”

“Yeah, but if I’d known you were the reason, then—”

“I don’t think I’m the reason, but... he treats me differently now.”

Uraraka slowly lowered her snack bag. “How, exactly?”

“At the carne asada, after you left, someone from our middle school teased him about ‘Deku’. And Kacchan...didn’t let it get to him.”

Silence.

“Okay, maybe it got to him a little,” Izuku admitted, “but he reacted differently.”

“I swear, the day I get my hands on one of those middle school jerks—”

The crowd cheered, interrupting Uraraka.

“The point is, he’s different. We’re not exactly friends, though...”

“Did you talk about that on your walk or—?”

“Which walk? We walk to school and home every day now so—”

Uraraka turned to him sharply. “You. What.”

“O-oh,”he winced. “Forgot to mention that part...”

“You amaze me, Deku. Seriously.”

“Are you mad at me?”

She sighed. “No, not exactly. I just don’t get how this even started. I've seen you two arrive at the same time every day, but I figured it was a coincidence. I didn’t know you were best pals now.”

Northvale scored again. The crowd roared, but Izuku barely noticed.

He explained everything. How Katsuki helped him move in, the day he visited the Bakugos’, their walks, what happened at the carne asada.

Uraraka listened, her anger slowly softening. She still didn’t get it, but she could tell he meant what he said. So she let it go.

When halftime started, they cheered for Iida and the rest of the performers. It was beautiful, not as big as the upcoming homecoming show, but still full of school pride and joy.

Uraraka forced Izuku to promise he’d come to the homecoming game. She said Iida would make the next show even bigger.

As the game resumed, the opposing team started catching up. The energy grew tense, but Izuku’s thoughts were elsewhere.

He hadn’t expected Uraraka to react so strongly to his friend, or whatever it was with Katsuki. And it made him wonder why he was so okay with it himself. Why was he so willing to move forward when nothing had ever really been said?

There had to be a reason.

And deep down, he already knew it.

“Hey, Ochako,” he said, voice barely above the noise.

She hummed, eyes fixed on the game.

The reason Izuku was okay with the new and improved Katsuki could probably lead to how he feels about Akio.

“I know I probably forgave and moved past what Kacchan did to me a little too easily,” Izuku said slowly. “But… what if I also told you that lately I’ve been… flustered by him a bit?”

Uraraka turned slightly toward him, but before she could respond—

The crowd erupted.

Northvale scored again in the last second. Cheers roared around them. Uraraka jumped up, laughing, pulling Izuku into a hug.

“WE WON!”

Izuku hugged her back stiffly, eyes wide.

“Wait—sorry, Deku,” she said breathlessly, still grinning. “You were saying something?”

His heart thudded painfully. What had he just said?

Oh no.

“N-nothing,” he muttered, grabbing his trash and avoiding her gaze. “Just... rambling. Let’s go wait for Iida at the sidelines.”

But even as they made their way down the bleachers, his brain was screaming at him.

You said it. You actually said it.

And worse?

He meant it.

Maybe he was crazy. Maybe he was reading too much into everything, with both Akio and Katsuki.

But the truth was, he’d admitted it. Not just to her.

To himself.

And that truth scared the hell out of him.

As they stepped down the bleachers, his phone buzzed.

Speak of the devil. A message from Katsuki.

[Kacchan]:

be ready by 11. I’ll be outside your door

Kirishima is picking us

Izuku slowed his steps, and Uraraka peeked at his screen over his shoulder.

“So, you’re going to the waterpark tomorrow, right?” she asked, tossing her empty plate and bag into the nearest trash bin.

“Yeah,” he said, slipping his phone back into his pocket. “Kirishima is picking me up.”

The two leaned against the chain-link fence, finally getting some air after pushing through the thick crowd.

“Oh! I totally forgot to tell you. I am bringing my girlfriend tomorrow!”

Izuku smiled. “Wait, that’s actually really sweet.”

“Mhm! You’ll get meet her!”

He was about to respond when a familiar figure passed by.

“Todoroki, wait!” Uraraka called, grabbing his arm.

He accepted her grab like it was his fate, totally unphased. “Hey. What's up?”

Izuku waved, unsure where this was going.

Uraraka grinned. “Quick question: has Akio ever flirted with you?”

Izuku’s head snapped around so fast his curls bounced.  “Ochako—!”

Todoroki blinked. “No? Should he have?”

Uraraka just laughed. “Don’t worry about it. Thanks, though!”

Izuku groaned and covered his face with both hands. He could feel the secondhand embarrassment radiating off himself.

“Are you coming with us to the waterpark tomorrow?” she asked casually, like she hadn’t just ambushed the poor guy.

Todoroki nodded. “Yeah, I’m riding with Kirishima and, you, Midoriya.”

Izuku peeked out from his hands. “Yup. Excited to see you there, man.”

Someone from the field called Todoroki’s name, and he gave a small wave before heading off.

As soon as he was gone, Izuku shot Uraraka a look. “Did you seriously have to ask him like that? What if someone overheard us?!”

Uraraka was already scanning the crowd again. “Relax. Akio’s long gone, no one heard. You're just scared he’s only like that with you.”

Izuku muttered under his breath, “You’re actually the worst.”

Before she could respond, Iida rushed up to them, beaming.

“There you are!” he shouted.

Izuku and Uraraka grinned and pulled him into a quick hug, the three of them giddy with leftover adrenaline from the win.

As the crowd around them moved along and Iida launched into a play-by-play of the final touchdown, Izuku laughed along, pretending to follow. But a part of him drifted back to Akio’s behavior, to Uraraka’s words, to the warmth that had crept into his cheeks before he even understood why.

Was it really just harmless flirting? Or was it something more?

He didn’t know. Not yet. But for the first time, he was starting to wonder if maybe, just maybe, the answer mattered.

Chapter Text

After the football game last night, Inko made sure her son had everything packed so he wouldn’t forget in the morning. Sunscreen, water bottles, extra cash, his wallet, even an AirTag in case he lost his bag, and a plastic bag for his wet clothes.

Izuku didn’t understand the sunscreen part, it was an indoor waterpark, but he decided not to question her.

The excitement made it nearly impossible to sleep. He stayed up late, watching a quick movie before finally crashing. Somewhere between the credits and the quiet hum of his fan, a text from Akio came in:

"I’m carpooling with Shinso tomorrow.”

The message made his heart thud a little louder than usual. His talk with Uraraka at the game had left him more confused than ever. He knew he got flustered, but he couldn’t pinpoint what it meant.

Or maybe he could. He just didn’t want to believe it or even imagine it yet.

Still, Izuku woke up early, at around 8:30 a.m. for a trip that didn’t start until 11. Way too early for his liking. The ride was only 30-40 minutes, but whatever.

He got up, checked the bag he’d packed last night, and made sure everything was in place. His black zippered tote was stuffed with towels, plus a change of nicer clothes in case his friends made last-minute plans.

White baggy T-shirt paired with dark green swim trunks. Digital camera thrown in last-minute, maybe he could use it for memorable pictures if they did make other plans. He checked his phone, waiting for Katsuki’s text. Until then, he paced, rechecked his bag, and stared at the ceiling.

[Kacchan]:

I’m outside. Hurry up where are you

Izuku still couldn’t understand how Katsuki’s patience was always set to zero, but he opened the door the second he read it.

And there he was. Standing tall with a white button up and red swim shorts, black crossbody bag slung over his chest.

“About time,” Katsuki muttered, hands sliding into his pockets. He lingered on the sidewalk, scanning for Kirishima’s car.

Izuku stepped out, locking the door behind him. “Thanks for telling me about the carpool.”

Katsuki’s eyes stayed fixed on the street. “Don’t mention it. I knew pinky would forget to text you.” He lifted a hand, signaling to the red Jeep pulling up.

Mina leaned halfway out the passenger window, grinning. “Hey, boys! Bakugo, I can just feel the excitement radiating off you.”

“Piss off,” Katsuki grumbled, heading for the trunk. He popped it open with one hand and held out the other toward Izuku.

Izuku didn’t notice, his phone had just buzzed again.

“Oi, idiot, hand over your bag,” Katsuki said, finally looking at him.

Startled, Izuku slipped the tote from his shoulder. “Thank you.”

Katsuki hefted it, eyebrows shooting up. “Holy shit, what the fuck are you carrying? It’s just a waterpark. We’re not even there for the entire day.”

“Towels take up a lot of space!”

While Izuku was replying to messages from Akio and Uraraka, Katsuki stayed quiet. When Izuku looked up, the blonde was frowning slightly.

“Oh, crap, I forgot towels,” Katsuki muttered, pulling open the car door.

“I brought two, you can use one of mine,” Izuku said with a small laugh as he climbed in. “Oh hey, Todoroki!”

Todoroki turned from the window. “Hi,” he said, smiling faintly as he adjusted his seat.

“Hey, Midoriya!” Kirishima called from the driver’s seat, one hand on the wheel and the other fiddling with the volume. “Glad you could make it!”

“Of course, and thanks for the ride,” he said as he grabbed the seatbelt.

“Anytime, dude! Bakubro insisted you ride with us.”

The air shifted beside Izuku. Katsuki stiffened. Izuku’s chest warmed slightly.

“Oi!” Katsuki barked. “Just drive already. Dunce face said there’s a huge line already.”

Mina waved her phone. “Relax. I’m running aux.” She queued up Summerboy by Lady Gaga, grinning as the intro kicked in.

“It’s literally late September,” Katsuki muttered.

“Exactly. Summer’s dead so we’re mourning her,” Mina shot back.

The Jeep rumbled onto the road, music blasting. Mina sang lyrics, Todoroki guessed songs, and Kirishima drummed the steering wheel.

Izuku couldn’t have asked for a better carpool. For a little while, all his nerves, about sitting next to Katsuki, about seeing Akio later, just faded.

Somewhere between a chorus and a red light, Katsuki shifted, his knee brushing Izuku’s.

It was small, barely a touch. But the warmth of it hit Izuku instantly, flooding through his leg like his skin remembered something his brain couldn’t name.

Katsuki didn’t move away, not immediately at least. His leg stayed there, solid and warm, the faintest pressure anchoring Izuku to this moment.

Three songs passed, probably some more 2000s pop hits, before Katsuki finally pulled his leg back.

Izuku missed the contact the second it was gone. Like heat after a sunset, it left a chill behind that had nothing to do with the car’s AC.

Oh no, he thought. Not these thoughts or feelings again, not now.

He turned his attention to the window, watching the blur of trees and highway signs. But the ghost of that touch stayed with him.

Today wasn’t for panic.

Today was for fun.

***

The American Dream mall was massive. A glittering labyrinth of stores, escalators, neon signs, and attractions stacked on top of each other like someone had shoved an amusement park into a luxury shopping center. Without a map, and even with one, you were basically doomed to get lost somewhere between the mirror maze, the indoor ski slope, or that one random MrBeast Burger vending machine.

But its waterpark?

Now that was something else entirely.

Tucked inside the mall like a secret oasis, the DreamWorks Water Park unfolded in a chaotic rainbow of sound and color. A towering inflatable Shrek in swim trunks and a floatie dangled from the ceiling like he was watching over his kingdom. Vibrant slides twisted above and around with waves crashing below as kids screamed in giddy terror.

The entrance alone looked like a scene out of a fever dream. Plastic palm trees, waterfall, and statues of animated characters posing dramatically near the sign-in counters. The air was humid and smelled faintly of chlorine, sunscreen, and overpriced food.

The line to get in? Endlessly long.

Thankfully, Denki was already waving them over from the front, surrounded by Jirou and Momo. Mina barely waited for them to catch up before tugging everyone along, energized by her excitement.

“Perfect timing!” Denki called.

“Wait, where is everyone?” Mina asked, frowning slightly. “I thought more would come.”

Izuku, mid-text, replied, “Some got stuck in traffic. Uraraka said they’ll be here soon.”

As if on cue, a wave of students appeared, cutting past the line like a sudden parade. It looked kind of wrong, watching twenty-something teens skip past a queue of tired families, but the guards seemed chill, and Denki had already charmed his way through the rules.

They headed down a grand set of stairs, the blast of AC and chlorine greeting them like a slap to the face. The waterpark stretched out below in a swirl of blue, slides, lazy rivers, cabanas, and a glistening wave pool in the distance.

People bounced excitedly as they queued for wristbands. Izuku could feel the buzz around them. Laughter, chatter, and the distant echo of a lifeguard’s whistle.

Soon enough, everyone filtered into the changing areas. The bathrooms were plain gray tiles, fluorescent lighting, and the hum of dryers and families trying to wrangle their kids into swimsuits. Compared to the explosion of color outside, it felt like a loading screen.

Izuku changed quickly, folding his T-shirt into his bag with careful precision. Todoroki nudged him.

“You mind waiting? We can get a locker together.”

Izuku nodded, brushing his hair back. “Yeah, of course.”

They picked a medium-sized locker and fiddled with the code until it clicked shut.

“You ready to head out?” Todoroki asked.

Izuku smiled. “I’m so ready for it.”

They pushed through the green doors and the park hit them in full force.

The moment they stepped out, Izuku was swallowed by a sensory overload. The smell of sunscreen and pool water, the echo of kids shrieking, the rush of a nearby waterfall. The ceiling stretched impossibly high above them, letting soft sunlight filter through massive skylights. It gave the whole place a surreal glow, half fantasy, half dream scenery.

And then.

Regret.

Immediate heart-rate-spiking regret.

Because the first thing Izuku saw were two boys, shirtless, glowing under the skylight, all muscle and bare skin.

Akio and Katsuki.

They weren’t even talking to each other. Akio was chatting with Uraraka and a blonde girl beside her, while Katsuki stood by Kirishima, arms crossed, his regular frowning expression.

Akio looked unreal. Pale, lean, toned in a way that made Izuku’s heart speed up. His navy-blue swim shorts sat just right on his hips, and his shoulders, those shoulders. The girls at school weren’t exaggerating, the man looked like a daydream carved from marble.

And Katsuki?

Katsuki was... Katsuki. But worse.

Even from the side, Izuku could see the faint line of his v-cut disappearing into low-slung red swim trunks and— okay, stop.

Stop.

He yanked his gaze away and forced himself to follow Todoroki to the group.

Mina grinned as she approached. “Are you two the last ones?”

Todoroki nodded. “Mhm. Thanks for waiting.”

Akio’s head turned, eyes scanning and then landing on Izuku.

He lit up.

“Izuku!”

No. Nope. No thank you. Keep your perfect body and dazzling face away from me, please.

“Heyyy,” Izuku said, dragging out the word with a little too much effort, trying desperately to sound casual. Like he wasn’t currently fighting for his life.

Too much skin. Too many abs. Too many emotions he didn’t know how to name or that they could even exist.

The total group count was around 26. Most of them were from Class 1-A and a few others, Akio, Shinso, Kendo, Monoma, Tetsutetsu, and Uraraka’s girlfriend.

“Alright!” Denki announced, standing like he was about to lead a cult. “What should we do first?”

“With a group this big,” Momo said, “it might be best to split up.”

“I agree,” Iida added, raising a firm hand. “A party of this size will cause disturbances at every ride.”

Mina chimed in, “So... mini groups?”

Denki pouted. “Wait! But can we all do the wave pool together first? And then we can meet up again later for the lazy river!”

The girls rallied behind him immediately. The boys folded under the pressure.

Izuku ended up with Uraraka, her girlfriend, and Akio.

Katsuki? He claimed he’d “do whatever the hell he wanted,” which apparently meant sticking close to Kirishima like a bodyguard.

They all moved as a group toward the wave pool. The park unfolded around them in beautiful chaos. Palm trees swayed near snack bars, slides twisted overhead, and the sun filtered in through the translucent roof, warming the water and making the droplets on people’s skin sparkle like glass.

They passed the giant inflatable Shrek again. Somehow, it looked smug this time.

“Deku!” Uraraka called, dragging her girlfriend behind her. “C’mere!”

He jogged over. “Hey, Ochako.”

“This is my girlfriend, Himeko Toga.”

“Hi, nice to meet you,” the blonde girl waved.

“Glad you could come,” Izuku said, polite smile in place.

Uraraka leaned close, her voice mischievous. “Sooo. How’s your situation going?”

“If you’re referring to the boy I think you’re referring to, then—”

“Who said anything about a boy?” she smirked. Izuku’s face flushed.

“Gotcha.”

“I hate you.”

Akio surfaced nearby, hair dripping, abs glistening in the sun. He ran a hand through his dark brown hair like it was a shampoo commercial.

Uraraka nodded in approval. “Wow. If I were into boys, or if I were you, I’d be hanging tight to that one.”

Izuku didn’t realize he was staring until she elbowed him.

“Wait—hey, don’t say ‘if I were you’ like that!”

She laughed, shoving him into the water.

He yelped, splashing under, before resurfacing with a gasp. “Ochako, I swear—!”

She just cackled and dragged Himeko deeper into the pool.

“You okay?” Akio asked, suddenly very close.

Izuku's eyes avoided him. “Y-yeah. This water’s colder than I expected.”

Akio grinned. “Give it a few minutes. The waves will warm you up.”

Izuku glanced up, and for a moment, their eyes met.

Wow.

His hair was slicked back perfectly, water trailing down his face but it was his eyes that caught Izuku off guard. Warm, steady, like they were trying to see something in him. Izuku blinked hard, suddenly aware of how long he’d been looking.

Too late.

Akio chuckled, low and amused, and Izuku swore he could feel the warmth bloom across his face like a betrayal.

Then a roar from the crowd. The wave pool had started.

Gentle at first, then stronger. People waded in, shouting, laughing, jumping over the foam like kids at the beach. Izuku jumped with each wave, a childhood habit, something he used to do with Katsuki back when they were younger, back when things were simpler.

Akio joined him, playing along.

Then a larger wave hit. Izuku jumped too high and collided chest-first into a girl with long black hair.

“I’m so sorry!” he sputtered immediately. “I didn’t mean to—”

She turned, smiling. “No worries.”

Izuku nearly choked.

She was stunning. Black bikini, pale skin, midnight eyes, tiny constellation of moles across her collarbone like stars.

Please stop staring, he begged himself.

He turned away, trying to focus on the waves again.

That’s when he spotted Katsuki.

Still dry. Still grumpy. Kirishima and Denki were clearly trying to get him deeper into the water. Katsuki retaliated by splashing them in the face.

Izuku swam over, something mischievous sparking in his chest.

“Come on, Bakugo! Quit sulking and join the waves!”

Denki got blasted again, coughing.

“I am not throwing myself around with that many idiots in one place,” Katsuki snapped.

He turned, caught Izuku’s eye, and paused.

“Kacchan!”

It was out before Izuku could stop it. The name hit the air like a splash, too loud, making his stomach dropped.

And, of course, Kirishima and Denki both snapped their heads toward him from a few feet away, identical ohhh? grins spreading across their faces.

Nobody knew he and Katsuki had been talking again. No one had asked them, or rather they didn’t dare to. And “Kacchan” wasn’t the kind of name you tossed around unless you were… well.

Izuku’s face heated. “I mean—Bakugo.” The correction came out too fast and too stiff. “Don’t be a scaredy cat.”

Wrong choice of words. Extremely wrong words.

Katsuki’s eyes narrowed, mouth curling into a slow, dangerous grin. “Oh, really? You calling me scared?”

“I mean, if the boot fits.”

“You little—”

Katsuki lunged, sending a wave crashing toward him. Izuku yelped and darted deeper into the pool, laughing despite himself.

“Izuku! Get back here—!”

Kirishima leaned toward Denki. “Did he just...?”

“Yup,” Denki whispered, smirking. “He said Kacchan.”

They both burst into quiet snickers, their voices swallowed by the splashing.

A massive wave swallowed the blonde mid-sentence.

Mina burst out laughing on the sidelines as Katsuki resurfaced, water dripping down his face, glaring absolute murder at Izuku, who was also laughing.

And that’s when Izuku felt it.

That heat in his chest. That flutter. That something he’s been feeling that he can’t escape.

He tried to look away, but Katsuki’s eyes didn’t let him.

And the waves became gentle again, slowly rippling away and disappearing.

From there, the mini groups began to split up, each heading toward their ride of choice.

Uraraka was visibly hyped, already clutching a wrinkled park map like it held her entire future. “First stop...Dreamworks Dream Runner!” she announced, pointing toward a massive blue slide that twisted around the park like a rollercoaster on water. It had eight plunges, each steeper than the last, and stretched so far that it briefly looped above the food court and lazy river.

Luckily, the line was short, most people were still at the wave pool. The ride seated four per raft, perfect for their group.

Toga sat first, then Uraraka, then Izuku, and finally Akio, as directed by the ride attendant. Izuku stiffened slightly when he realized Akio would be right behind him, knees almost brushing his back, but he tried not to let it show.

Their raft was tugged upward by a conveyor belt, a long, wet climb that rattled with anticipation before pausing at the very top, where an operator flashed a grin at them.

“Have fun!” they called.

And they dropped.

A wall of cold water slapped against the sides as the raft plunged, twisting through pitch-black tunnels and bright, open chutes. The group screamed, laughed, and occasionally had to blink through water spraying into their faces. At one point, the slide shot above the park, gliding past food stalls and ride entrances like a sky train on chaos mode.

“THIS IS CRAZY!” Uraraka yelled, her voice half-drowned by the wind.

“WE’RE GONNA DIE,” Toga added, clearly thrilled.

Then came a final, slower stretch, a winding return path that let them breathe for the first time in minutes.

“Oh my god,” Uraraka gasped as they floated to the exit pool. “That was the best ride I’ve ever done.”

Akio and Izuku nodded, still dripping and flushed from adrenaline.

“I didn’t expect you to scream so much, Akio,” Izuku teased, dripping water from his hair.

“That ride made my heart sink into my ass,” Akio said, breathless.

Toga cackled. “You two scream like middle school girls.”

They all laughed as they walked toward the Shrek-themed section, a garishly green area with inflatable onions and fake mud puddles painted on the walls. It was home to three more massive slides, all requiring a group raft.

The staircases were confusing, one led to two slides, while another split off to a single, steeper one. Still, the group figured it out eventually.

First up, Dragon and Donkey’s Flight, a blazing red slide that shot them outside the building for a moment before plunging into a dark tunnel shaped like a dragon’s open jaws.

Then came Swamp and Splash, the tallest and wildest slide of them all. It started with a near-vertical drop before bouncing the raft through wide, echoing chambers that sprayed water from all angles. Screams echoed off the slide walls, and for a moment, it felt like flying through a thunderstorm.

By the time they lined up for the final ride, Shrek’s Sinkhole, the line stretched down the stairs.

“We’ve only done one section of the park, and my body is already dying,” Uraraka groaned, leaning against the railing.

“Same,” Izuku murmured. He rubbed his arms, now shivering slightly. “It’s colder on this side...”

Akio turned to look at him, concern flickering in his expression. Toga elbowed Uraraka, and the two giggled behind their hands.

The group chatted as they waited, sometimes bickering over which slide was best, other times arguing about if Shrek 2 was the best movie ever made. Izuku tried to join in, but he kept glancing over his shoulder at Akio, stealing quick looks. At his shoulders. His collarbone. His abs, still glistening with water.

And then he'd snap out of it, heart racing.

What the hell is wrong with me? he thought. Since when do I stare at guys like this?

It wasn’t like he didn’t notice the girls at the park because there were a lot of them, all in swimsuits that left little to the imagination. He’d already bumped into more bare skin than he was comfortable admitting. But this... this was different.

It’s not like I want him, Izuku tried to reason. I just want to look like him. Be like him. That’s all.

His thoughts spiraled.

No, I don’t want him. I want to be him. Right?

“You okay?” Toga asked suddenly, pulling him back to reality.

Izuku smiled too quickly. “Yeah! Just a little tired.”

After nearly twenty minutes, it was finally their turn to ride Shrek’s Sinkhole. A massive green funnel slide where the raft spun in dizzying circles before vanishing down a central drop. Screams echoed inside the funnel like a vortex of chaos, and by the end, no one could stop laughing.

For a while, Izuku forgot about the strange tightness in his chest.

Just for a while though.

The group started making their way toward the next section of the park, the area tucked just behind the wave pool. Izuku was the first to point something out on the park map.

“Let’s do Trolls Rainbow Racers,” he said, eyes lighting up. “Bet I’ll beat you, Akio.”

“Oh, you’re on,” Akio grinned as they began climbing the brightly painted staircase, rainbows spiraling upward on the handrails.

But halfway up, they bumped into another group...Mina’s group! She was surrounded by Kirishima, Denki, Sero, and of course, Katsuki.

“Oh, Midoriya!” Kirishima beamed, waving him over. “Wanna race with us? We’re one short.”

The ride was made for six lanes, six racers, but Mina’s crew only had five. The operator was willing to let them go ahead anyway, but Kirishima made the offer before anyone could step forward.

“Uh—yeah! Sure,” Izuku said too fast, eyes flicking to Katsuki for a second too long. He turned to Akio and Uraraka. “I’ll race you guys after too, I promise.”

Izuku stepped forward, choosing the middle lane. Katsuki was already beside him in the left lane, arms stretched overhead as he grabbed his sled from the rack.

Without meaning to, Izuku’s eyes lingered just for a second on the way Katsuki’s muscles flexed as he lifted the mat, his shoulder blades shifting under wet skin.

He blinked and looked away fast.

Everyone placed their foam mats at the top, gripping the handles in preparation.

“Hey, nerd,” Katsuki muttered, voice just low enough for only Izuku to hear.

Izuku turned, heart skipping.

“I’m not letting you win.”

Izuku smirked, adjusting his grip. “As if I’d ever let you win.”

“Ready… set… GO!” the operator called out.

They all launched forward, mats skimming over the water with a sharp splash. The slides twisted around each other like strands of candy, sudden turns, dips, and tunnels lit with flashing rainbow lights. Laughter and shouting echoed through the tubes.

Then came the drop.

A massive plunge sucked the air from their lungs as they flew downward, water blinding their faces as they hit terminal speed. Izuku shut his eyes, instinct kicking in.

And then impact. His sled skidded into the finish pool with a deep splash. He blinked fast, coughing up water and pushing hair from his eyes.

Katsuki’s sled hit right after, spraying more water onto Izuku’s back.

“Ha! I won!” Izuku gasped, jumping to his feet with a wild grin. His hair was plastered to his face, eyes gleaming with triumph.

Katsuki cursed under his breath, words lost in the noise.

“Didn’t see you come in first, huh?” Izuku teased.

“You’re dead, Izuku—” Katsuki started, but just then, Mina’s sled crashed into the end pool and splashed him full in the face.

“AGHH, MINA—” he sputtered, cut off.

Izuku snickered and jogged off the landing zone, water dripping down his legs as he ran back to rejoin his group, heart pounding way too fast for what was supposed to be a casual race.

Back at the top of the platform, he took his spot again, this time beside Akio. The girls lined up on his other side, already hyping each other up.

“Alright,” Akio said, grinning as he dropped his sled onto the mat. “Time to destroy you, Izuku.”

“I already raced once,” Izuku defended, adjusting his grip on the foam handles. “My heart is literally still racing.”

“Excuses, excuses,” Akio teased.

The whistle blew.

They pushed off.

The rainbow tunnels blurred around them as their sleds flew forward, twisting through sharp turns and brief moments of darkness broken by flashes of neon. Izuku barely had time to process the drops before they happened, sudden, weightless plunges that stole the air from his lungs and made him scream even louder than he did the first time.

The final drop hit harder this time, or maybe it just felt like it, sending him flying into the landing pool with a crash. He surfaced with a gasp, wiping water from his face.

“Let’s go!,” Akio shouted, already standing in the splash zone with both arms raised in victory.

“Seriously?” Izuku coughed. “That was like, one second!”

“One second ahead is still ahead,” Akio said with a wink.

“You’re so annoying,” Izuku said, voice low, but he was smiling anyway.

As they all climbed out of the water, they spotted Mina’s group lingering near the end zone, a few of them still wringing out their hair or flicking water at each other.

“Hey!” Mina waved. “You guys wanna join us? We’re hitting the last section of the park. Might as well stick together ‘til the lazy river!”

“Sure!” Uraraka said quickly, already stepping toward them.

Denki spoke up. “We could do either the duo slides or the tall single ones with the capsules.”

Akio shivered beside Izuku. “Tall capsules…? Frick me.”

Izuku giggled, glancing up at the boy.

Uraraka jumped in for her group. “Let’s do duos first, and the ones who want to risk their lives can do singles last!”

Everyone agreed and headed toward the Madagascar-themed slides.

Mina’s group got in line first, their pairs uneven again, which left Katsuki to ride solo. Izuku felt a small thud watching him, but the feeling washed away once he and Akio hit the drop together, plunging into darkness before being whipped into a burst of sunlight.

“Holy crap,” Izuku laughed breathlessly at the bottom.

Akio shook the water from his hair, grinning. “I thought my soul left my body halfway down.”

“Pretty sure I heard you screaming more than me,” Izuku teased.

“Lies. We were equally pathetic.”

When they looked over, Katsuki was stepping out of his raft, jaw tight and shoulders stiff. He didn’t say anything, but there was a faint scowl that made Izuku wonder if he’d been sulking.

The next slide’s line was shorter, only about five minutes. Izuku and Akio chatted about which rides were worth hitting next, when…

“Oi, Izuku.”

He turned, startled. “Hm?”

Katsuki jerked his chin toward the raft queue. “Let’s ride the next one together.”

Akio blinked, clearly caught off guard. Izuku glanced between them, unsure.

“It’s fine,” Akio said with an easy smile. “I’ll go by myself.”

“But—”

“Go, have fun with your friend.”

Friend. The word didn’t sit right. Nor was it right. Katsuki wasn’t really that, at least he didn’t view Izuku like that. But Izuku didn’t have the time or courage to explain that to Akio.

The ride was called Speeding Frenzy, a closed bright green tube. Izuku slid onto the raft first, hyper-aware of Katsuki sitting directly behind him. The proximity made every nerve in his body feel alive, and he told himself it was just the unfamiliarity resurfacing.

As Katsuki settled in, he leaned close to Izuku’s ear, voice low and almost raspy. “You’re gonna pay for earlier, you fucker.”

Cold, wet hands jabbed at Izuku’s sides.

“WAIT—Bakugo—stop!” Izuku twisted, laughing and red-faced.

The ride attendant barked at Katsuki to knock it off.

“Bakugo, huh?” Katsuki repeated, almost testing the sound.

Izuku’s ears burned. “I’ll explain later, just—please don’t—”

The raft shot forward, plunging them into the dark green tunnel.

“KACCHAN!” Izuku’s scream echoed as Katsuki’s laughter bounced off the walls.

At the bottom, Izuku staggered out, breathless. “That was actually scary.”

“And I’m the scaredy cat?” Katsuki smirked.

“How did you not scream?!”

“I’m not a crybaby like you, idiot.”

Izuku stepped closer. “Then what are you afraid of, huh?”

Katsuki leaned in too, smirk deepening but saying nothing.

Izuku didn’t mean to stare, but the sharp red of Katsuki’s eyes was impossible to look away from. Until Uraraka and Toga came crashing out of the same slide, breaking the moment.

When Akio finished his solo slide run, he jogged over to where Izuku was waiting. “One more?”

Izuku grinned. “Yeah, let’s do one of the duo rides again before everyone scatters.”

They climbed the stairs for Lemur Leap, squeezing between kids dragging tubes and parents shouting over the sound of rushing water. Akio leaned on the railing as they moved forward in line, his tone casual but a little too vulnerable.

“So… ‘Kacchan.’”

Izuku blinked. “Huh?”

“That’s what you called Bakugo earlier, right? In the raft together.” Akio smiled faintly. “What does it mean? Is it a nickname?”

“It’s...” Izuku looked down at the floor. “Yeah. Just… something I’ve called him since we were kids.”

Akio’s brow quirked, like he was filing the answer away for later, but he let it drop when their turn came.

They flew down Lemur Leap’s twisting yellow-and-green chute together, water spraying in their faces as the raft bounced over each curve. Izuku’s laughter echoed against the fiberglass until they hit the final splashdown.

By the time everyone had gotten their fill of duo slides, the group congregated near the base.

“Alright,” Kirishima grinned, rubbing water from his eyes. “Who’s brave enough for the capsule slides?”

Everyone glanced up at the towering tubes of Thrillagascar and Jungle Jammer, each one starting in a see-through capsule before dropping riders straight down. Faint, high-pitched screams echoed from above.

Katsuki cracked his neck. “I’ll do it. I ain’t scared of anything, let alone a slide.”

“Yeah, that’s my guy!” Kirishima slapped his back. “I’m in.”

Mina looked at Akio. “What about you?”

Akio waved both hands. “Oh, no thanks. I’d have a heart attack up there.”

“I’ll go,” Izuku said, smirking at Katsuki.

Akio’s head snapped toward him. “Izuku—” He groaned. “Fine, I’ll go too.”

Denki pointed at him accusingly. “Akio, you traitor. I didn’t wanna be the only loser not going.”

Sero shrugged. “Yeah, you still are one. I’ll go with you guys.”

The climb to the top was worse than Izuku expected, metal stairs as high as a skyscraper, the slide tower swaying just enough to make his stomach tighten.

Halfway up, Akio muttered, “Yeah, nope,” and walked away, heading back down.

“Wait, Akio—”

“Come on, nerd. Don’t hold up the line,” Katsuki called, already moving ahead.

Inside the capsule, Izuku could feel his pulse thudding in his ears, not just from the height. Through the glass, Katsuki smirked at him and mouthed, “Try not to cry.”

Then the floor dropped.

Izuku’s scream followed him all the way down the near-vertical plunge before the slide curved into a high-speed spiral, spraying water into his face until he skidded into the runout pool.

Katsuki shot out of his own tube seconds later, laughing as he shook water from his hair. “Pathetic.”

The boys traded turns on the slides, each drop earning a fresh round of heckling from below. Mina, Denki, Uraraka, Toga, and Akio lounged in the end-zone, keeping score of who screamed the loudest.

When the boys finished the capsule slides, they headed straight for the lazy river. The other group, the rest of the 26 teens, happened to arrive at the same time. Everyone grabbed a yellow transparent float as they stepped into the water.

Some tried to sit on them, but each attempt ended in an ungraceful flip, sending them under with a splash. Laughter erupted around the pool. Izuku avoided the chaos entirely, slipping underneath his float and standing through the center hole.

Denki and Sero were tag-teaming an attempt to shove Katsuki, one of the few who had managed to sit on his float without tipping into the water. Izuku noticed how strong the blonde's arms looked when he placed them behind his head, muscles flexing as he rested on the floatie like it was his personal throne.

He admired them for a moment. No one would notice.

Then he looked over and saw Akio, who was helping Shinso balance himself on a float, laughing when the other boy nearly tipped over.

Izuku watched the chaos with a smile while others splashed and drifted along.

Suddenly, a familiar voice floated over.

Toga, drifting up in the same position as Izuku, smirked. “You look like you’re admiring the most beautiful man on Earth.”

Izuku whipped his head around. “Huh?! What—I’m not looking at anyone!”

Toga raised a brow. “Uh-huh. So your eyes just happen to keep following a certain spiky blond in the distance? Or the dreamy brown haired boy?”

“They—uh—they weren’t following! I was just monitoring everyone. They could hit their heads if they tip over. Safety hazard and all that,” Izuku said quickly, face heating.

“Oh my god,” Toga laughed, “you’re such a bad liar. Uraraka said you might be in denial, but wow, I didn't think you were this bad.”

Izuku froze. “Denial of what?!”

“You tell me.” Toga offered with a devilish grin.

Izuku’s mouth opened, closed, then opened again. “I—That’s not—! I was not checking  anyone out!”

Toga tilted her head, drifting closer. “Sure you weren’t. Just like you weren’t staring at Akio when he climbed out of the pool. Or the girl back at the wave pool. Or, you know, my girlfriend.”

Izuku spluttered. “I wasn’t—! Uraraka could’ve slipped, okay? I was just…concerned for her safety.”

“Mhm. And Akio?”

“He is a close friend.”

“And Katsuki?”

Izuku went silent for a beat too long, ultimately choosing not to reply about that specific boy.

“…What if I just admire their physique? They work hard for it, y’know.”

Toga grinned like a cat. “Right. Totally innocent. Just pure, platonic… muscle appreciation.”

Izuku huffed, eyes darting anywhere but her. “…Exactly.”

“You’re blushing, sweetie.”

“I’m sunburned.”

“In an indoor park? Sure you are.” Toga pushed off her float, drifting toward Uraraka with a smug wave. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell.”

Izuku sank lower in the water, wishing the lazy river would just swallow him whole. Toga’s words echoed in his mind like a stubborn melody.

Was it really so strange to want to look at someone that much? To want to figure out what made them look so... good? Was it just admiration? Or something else, something he wasn’t ready to name? He didn’t want anyone else to figure it out before he did and then what? Would they help him? Or would he have to face it alone?

No, wait. Maybe he didn’t want anyone to know at all. Argh, this was too much.

I can’t be into everyone. That’s not how this works. Right? Maybe I’m just... a people appreciator? A body appreciator?! Izuku swallowed his thoughts, the noise of the river’s current and laughter filling the space around him while he kept to himself.

He was the first to reach the end of the loop and climbed out, leaving his floatie behind as the others slowly followed suit. The group crowded around, rubbing sore arms and shoulders, debating whether to start drying off or squeeze in one last ride before calling it a day.

Denki and Sero playfully pushed each other off their floaties nearby, but Izuku’s eyes drifted again to Katsuki. The blonde was removing his floatie, turned his back, and handed it to a little girl nearby. The subtle flex of his back muscles under the water caught Izuku’s attention, a small detail most wouldn’t notice, but one Izuku had caught in that moment.

No one should be paying attention to those small details, especially not repeatedly over the same two boys.

Iida’s voice cut through the hum of chatter. “I think we should start heading to the locker rooms.”

A few groaned in agreement, claiming their bodies felt like they’d been run over by a train after all the slides and splashing. The promise of hot showers and dry clothes was enough to rally the group.

As they made their way to the locker rooms, Izuku and Todoroki retrieved their things, quietly changing out of their swimsuits. The cold air inside was a sharp contrast to the humid warmth of the waterpark.

He changed in silence, tangled thoughts swirling like the wet strands of hair clinging to his forehead. As he pulled on his shirt, Izuku started to push away the comparison of his body to Katsuki’s strong, sculpted form and Akio’s lean muscles as he looked in the mirror. Forget my body… he thought as he put on his white shirt.

But then, Toga’s words echoed again in his mind, refusing to be ignored.

Denial of what, exactly? And what did she mean by “that’s how I found out”?

Was she talking about her own awakening?Did she understand what he was feeling now?

Toga hadn’t been mocking him. Her blunt honesty was strangely comforting, a faint light in the confusing fog of his feelings. Like she was trying to help him understand something he didn’t yet figure out.

Should he ask her? Or maybe Uraraka? But what if they already knew more than he did?

He packed his things, letting his wet clothes rest in a tied-up plastic tray bag wrapped in his damp towels. His thoughts had been swirling so long that when he stepped out of the locker room, he realized he’d been the last one to finish changing.

Akio was waiting just outside, leaning against the wall with his bag slung over his shoulder.

They fell into step together, meeting up with the rest of the group.

“Alright, well today was fun as hell,” Tetsutetsu announced, earning laughs and nods. A few people tossed in their favorite moments from the day.

The group drifted toward the park’s entrance like a flock of birds, passing between a candy-made Statue of Liberty and the Nickelodeon amusement park.

“I’ll be honest,” Denki called out dramatically, “I haven’t eaten since breakfast and I’m starving. I don’t know about y’all—” He pointed at a nearby food court. “—but I’m getting food!”

Some weren’t hungry, but the majority followed Denki. Everyone splintered toward different spots. Dunkin, Starbucks, Wetzel’s Pretzels, Korean street food, boba, basically anything that smelled amazing.

Izuku looked around, unsure. He noticed Katsuki hanging back with him, which made him consider what the blonde might want too.

Katsuki just observed the two boys he stayed with without saying a word.

“Do you guys mind ice cream?” Izuku asked.

Akio shook his head. “I don’t mind.”

“Same,” Katsuki shrugged.

Izuku smiled and led them toward Lucciano’s Gelato. The boys followed in silence, which made Izuku a little awkward.  Understandable, since they were practically opposites.

The line was short. Akio scanned the menu. “I’ve actually never had gelato before.”

Izuku chuckled softly. He’d had it once with Mitsuki and Katsuki years ago. That memory came back way too easily for Izuku, and he hoped he wasn’t the only one. but he didn’t mention it. Katsuki didn’t either, though when they locked eyes for a moment, both quickly looked away.

“Do you know what you’re gonna order?” Izuku asked.

Akio hesitated. “We’re not gonna judge our orders, right?”

“Why would we do that?”

Akio blinked hard. “I’m getting mint chocolate.”

Katsuki scoffed. “You actually like that toothpaste shit?” His voice was loud enough that a few people turned.

Akio laughed. “I knew one of you would hate it.”

“Sorry, Akio,” Izuku grinned, patting his back. “Gotta side with him on this one.” He even stepped over to Katsuki’s side in mock alliance.

“Oh, come on,” Akio said. “What flavor are you getting then?”

“Only the best…hazelnut chocolate!” Izuku declared.

Katsuki chuckled quietly, and Izuku caught the faintest smile on his face. He liked that, liked being able to pull that boyish expression from him, despite everything between them.

“I’ll get signature chocolate,” Katsuki said, pulling out his phone.

They were a few spots from the counter when a girl’s soft voice made Izuku turn.

”Excuse me?”

It was her, the girl from the wave pool. Dry hair now framed her face, midnight-blue eyes lined by dark lashes. A translucent cover-up hung over her bikini top, paired with jean shorts.

God, she was gorgeous.

“Hi…Listen, I just wanted to see you again,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “And I wanted to know if I could maybe get your number?”

For a moment, Izuku forgot how to breathe. People didn’t usually show interest in him, romantically, at least. Not until Akio, and right now this girl. Both had woken something in him. But now wasn’t the time to unpack that.

He blinked, caught in her eyes, forgetting what she’d just asked until his cheeks went red..

“I—I’m flattered, really. But…” He could feel two pairs of eyes burning into his back. “I’m not super comfortable giving my number out like that.”

Her smile faltered, but she nodded. “That’s all right. Hope you have a nice day!” She waved before walking away.

Izuku felt guilty. She was stunning, but something inside him had said no. And he couldn’t ignore the fact that the boys’ presence probably had something to do with it.

“You okay?” Akio asked when Izuku turned back.

Katsuki watched closely.

“Yeah… sorry about that.”

“She’s not your type?” Katsuki blurted.

Izuku’s face went red. “W-what?! No!”

Akio raised his brows.

“She was, is, beautiful,” Izuku stammered. “But I can’t just jump into giving someone my number.”

“Except you could,” Katsuki said.

“Bakugo!” Izuku snapped, then corrected, “Kacchan!”

“What? You just said she’s your type.”

Akio stepped between them. “Hey, calm down.”

Katsuki brushed his hand off. “Just saying.”

Izuku didn’t understand why the blonde was so invested. “I’m sorry, Kacchan.”

“Whatever,” Katsuki muttered.

“Okay, our turn!” Akio said quickly.

As Izuku ordered, he replayed the moment with the blonde in his mind. This was the first time they behaved like this since they talked again after half a decade. It felt bitter, like a venom that should’ve been gone between them but resurfaced easily like a disease.

Izuku didn’t like that feeling, nor the way the blonde got silent.

He bumped the blonde’s shoulder as he waited for his ice cream. The blonde turned his gaze to the boy as Izuku mouthed, “I’m sorry”.

The blonde walked toward the cashier, where Akio was standing and he whispered to Izuku, voice quiet and low, “Don’t. It’s my fault.”

All of Izuku’s limbs froze. He didn’t expect any reaction from the blonde. He just needed to get that out of his chest after their sour conversation.

But for him, Katsuki Bakugo, to say “it’s my fault”…well, that’s certainly new.

Izuku quickly rushed to the boys’ side, wanting to contribute for the treat at the cashier register.

But Akio had already paid, letting Katsuki sulk about it and offered smiles to the blonde.

“Thank you Akio,” Izuku smiled at the boy.

He held his cone in his left while he slid his wallet into his pocket. “No problem, you guys invited me to the park so this was the least I could do.”

Katsuki licked his ice cream. “Thanks, I guess...”

Akio looked at the blonde. “No problem, man.” And he bumped his shoulder, joy lighting up his face.

They rejoined the group, who were finishing snacks. People began peeling off toward their cars. Akio waved goodbye, Shinso at his side.

Eventually, only Uraraka and her girlfriend remained, along with Kirishima’s crew. Katsuki and Izuku tossed their empty cones just as Uraraka unlocked her car.

“Thanks for today,” Uraraka said, hugging Mina.

Izuku’s gaze lingered on the couple as they walked away, hands entwined. Both girls were glowing with an ease that made Izuku’s chest ache. They looked so comfortable, so natural together. I wonder what that feels like, he thought.  That kind of love where you risk everything but couldn’t care less as long as you’re with your person.

When they reached Kirishima’s jeep, everyone dragged themselves inside, muscles aching from the day.

The drive back was quieter, soft music, fading sunlight, the hum of the road. Izuku’s eyes grew heavy somewhere between the mall and the meadowlands. His head tilted sideways, landing on a warm shoulder.

It didn’t move away. It let the boy rest there until he shifted his head again.

Chapter Text

Homecoming week always turned Northvale High into something louder than usual. Every day came with a new theme: pajama day, twin day, class color day, and the halls buzzed with kids showing off their fits and rushing to pep rally rehearsals. The student council taped up posters with glittery letters that shed on everyone’s backpacks, and the cheerleaders seemed to practice their chants in every empty corner of the school. Even the teachers leaned into it, grumbling but letting the noise slide, because the week always ended the same: the big game and the dance that followed. 

The familiar football stadium was chaos in the best way on the night of the homecoming game. Thursday night on Northvale’s field, a home game doubled as the perfect pre-party for the dance the following day. 

The marching band was louder than the bleachers combined, probably because their halftime show was minutes away. They needed to hype the team, and themselves, up. 

This time, Izuku sat with Uraraka, Toga, and Todoroki. He didn’t get to ask the two girls about their obvious knowing looks lately. They seemed ahead of him in whatever it was that was happening to him. The seats shuddered beneath them as the crowd exploded. 

“All of you are going to the dance tomorrow, right?” Uraraka asked, scanning each face. 

“Of course,” Izuku said. “I’m not missing it. Plus, my mom’s basically forcing me since it’s my last year.” 

“Same,” Todoroki agreed, calm as always. “Last few dances. Might as well.” 

Uraraka squealed and hugged her girlfriend. “Perfect!” 

“Toga, you’re coming too, right?” Izuku asked. 

The blonde nodded. “No way am I letting my girlfriend go without me. My school’s dance is next week anyway, so I’d rather spend tomorrow with her.” 

Before Izuku could reply, the bleachers shook again. Northvale had just scored right before halftime. 

The friends turned their attention to the field. The marching band spilled out like a wave, brass and drumline thunder rolling across the turf. Stadium lights glanced off every polished instrument. Color guard flags whipped arcs of maroon and white through the air. 

The crowd quieted into that respectful, buzzing murmur as the band carved shapes into the field. The school’s initials, a clean arrow pivoting at the 50-yard line, and what seemed to be the shape of an eagle. On the sideline, the cheer squad hit their marks on a bass beat, pom-poms catching sparks of light. Students stomped their feet, voices climbing to meet the music until the whole stadium was breathing the same rhythm. 

The final note hit. The band snapped to attention, instruments high, and the place erupted again. 

Then, back to football. The energy was electric now, every pass, every tackle felt like the winning play. 

While scanning the crowd, Izuku caught spiky blond hair moving with a redhead in front of the bleachers. Katsuki and Kirishima, soda bottles in hand, weaving through the lower rows. They headed left, far from Izuku as he was on the far right. The blonde didn’t see him, but Izuku noticed Katsuki glance at someone, mutter something to Kirishima, and take his seat. 

Akio was here too. Izuku had spotted him earlier, but they hadn’t crossed paths. 

The second half was brutal. Uraraka was gripping her seat like it was life or death. 

And then, as if the universe liked her enough to grant her wish, Northvale pulled ahead by 5 in the last minutes. The final whistle was swallowed by screams. The crowd surged onto the field, hugging, chanting, lifting the player who’d clinched it. 

Izuku’s group found Iida in the chaos, wrapping him in a victory hug. 

The noise shifted as people cleared a circle. The star player, still catching his breath, raised a mic. 

“Thanks to everyone who came tonight,” he panted. “Especially as a senior, this means the world to me and our team.” 

A friend rushed forward, shoving a bouquet of roses into his arms. 

“And… another way to make this night unforgettable…” he grinned toward the bleachers, “…is to surprise my beautiful girlfriend, Bella.” 

Another friend appeared with a poster: MY WILDEST DREAMS WOULD COME TRUE IF YOU WENT TO HOCO WITH ME . 

The girl ran to him, hugged him as she hid her rosy cheeks from the gesture. The crowd cheered for them, a few recording the moment. 

Izuku smiled at the scene. He wanted that, this type of movie-scene romance. But he knew better than to expect it. It didn’t happen his previous 3 years here, and it definitely won’t now. Not in his last 9 months here. 

*** 

The next morning was just another walk to school with Katsuki. Their unofficial tradition for quite some time now. Usually, it was nonsense talk like bickering over quiz answers, arguing about teachers. 

But when they met at their corner, Katsuki was…quiet. 

“Hey, Kacchan,” Izuku said, adjusting his backpack. 

“Hey.” 

No teasing. No insult about his bed hair or “stupid” fashion sense. Just silence. 

“You okay?” Izuku asked. 

“Hm? Yeah.” 

Izuku let it go, filling the gap with last night’s highlights. “You saw the proposal, right?” 

Katsuki’s eyes narrowed. “You mean that black-haired bastard and his dumb poster?” 

“Yeah! It was actually really sweet.” 

“You like that cheesy crap?” 

Izuku shrugged, looking at the ground. “It’s cute. Not that it’d ever happen to me.” 

Katsuki tilted his head. “You going tonight?” 

“Yeah. Mom says I have to.” 

He smirked. “Auntie really is something when it comes to you.” 

“What about you? Are you going?” 

“Yeah. Volleyball’s off today, so why not.” 

Izuku almost asked if that meant they’d walk home together before the dance, but the question stuck in his throat. He felt that if he said it out loud, it would be pushy of him. 

Instead, they drifted into safer territory. They began to complain about teachers. 

“They treat us like first graders sometimes, I swear.” Katsuki grumbled. 

Izuku let out a soft laugh. “What kind of class are you taking that they treat you like that?” 

“Spanish.” 

“Wait, you’re in a language class?” 

Katsuki hummed. 

“But we already did that dual language thing in elementary.” 

The town ‘s elementary school offered all students a small program called “Dual Language”. Basically, students could pick from 3 languages: Spanish, Chinese Mandarin, or French, and the school would teach them said languages. It was aimed to prepare students for high school and in general promoted learning languages at a young age. People mostly took Spanish or French. The pair of boys took Spanish together. Izuku still remembered the Spanish he learned, after all he kept many of his notebooks for that class. In high school however, he decided to take up Mandarin in freshmen year to knock out that credit.  

It seemed Katsuki stuck to Spanish. 

“Yeah, I just wanted an easy class senior year. I’m good at it.” 

“Prove it.” 

Katsuki smirked. “Tienes el pelo loco, idiota.” 

Izuku processed the words, trying to translate what he said in his mind. When he did, he shoved the blonde. “Hey!” 

Katsuki broke into loud, genuine laughter as Izuku scrambled to fix his hair. 

“Is it really bad?” 

“Looks like a bird’s nest.” 

Izuku groaned. “Then help me!” 

Katsuki stopped mid-step, grin flickering into something unreadable. “Alright, alright. Don’t get your panties in a twist, relax.” 

“I hate you,” Izuku muttered, though he stayed still as Katsuki turned him by the shoulders, fingers combing through messy green strands. 

Izuku’s heart thudded in his ears. Every time he glanced up, he was met with those sharp eyes and those ridiculous arms. Looking anywhere felt awkward, because no matter where his gaze landed, there was muscle, all tightly framed by his clothes. 

For a fleeting second, Izuku even caught the faintest trace of his scent, and it was enough to make his brain stutter. 

“There. Better.” 

They kept walking, slowly making their way up their school’s hill. 

“Thanks, Kacchan.” 

And Izuku hated the way his chest felt warm, the way his stomach fluttered. He’d have to face that feeling eventually. 

Katsuki and Izuku slipped into homeroom just as the bell screeched. Katsuki tossed his bag onto his desk with the kind of careless force that made a few heads turn. Izuku followed a step behind, bending each finger back slowly, letting them snap one by one, trying not to think about how he felt as they walked up the hill. 

Aizawa didn’t even bother looking up from his attendance sheet when he spoke. 

“As I’m sure you are all aware, the homecoming dance is tonight,” he said, voice flat enough to kill any excitement. “Please don’t trash the gym. Have fun and all but seriously, please don’t.” 

A couple of kids in the back snickered, but most just went back to whatever they were doing. Uraraka over to Momo, both excited over their dresses. Mina was across the room, already had her phone out, scrolling through what looked like inspo for pictures. A crumpled flyer for the dance slid off someone’s desk and fluttered to the floor, ignored. 

Izuku sank into his seat, pulling out a notebook, but his thoughts weren’t on whatever worksheet they were supposed to be doing. Katsuki was slouched behind him, drumming his fingers on the desk like he already wanted to be anywhere else. 

By the time the bell rang again, the whole room spilled into the hall in a loud rush. Izuku made his way to art class, weaving between clusters of kids who were buzzing about outfits and hair, who was going with who, and what songs the DJ might play. 

When he stepped into the art room, Akio was already at their usual table, his painting on the desk open but paints untouched. He gave Izuku a small, easy smile. 

“Hey,” Akio said as Izuku sat down. “You going with anyone tomorrow?” 

Izuku hesitated, keeping his voice as casual as possible. “No.” 

Akio hummed, like he was tucking that answer away for later. “Hm.” He bent over his painting again, though Izuku noticed the faintest curve of a smirk pulling at his mouth. 

Outside, the sound of someone dragging a ladder down the hallway clattered against the lockers. Probably student council kids hanging banners. The faint smell of acrylic paint drifted in, proof they were really going all out. 

By lunch, the chaos was impossible to miss. Half-finished cardboard cutouts of the school mascot were stacked in corners. Student council members darted around with armfuls of supplies, arguing over where the photo booth should go. Every table buzzed with talk about dates, dresses, and who might win homecoming king. Izuku mostly picked at his food, glancing now and then toward the blonde boy across the table from him. 

The rest of his classes carried the same jittery energy. Everyone, students and teachers alike, seemed to be counting down to the dance. Some teachers didn’t even bother with lessons, letting the day become a quiet hum of whispered plans and doodled name hearts. 

PE wasn’t as forgiving. Students were still forced to sweat and participate. Izuku, Todoroki, and Akio decided on badminton again, determined to finally beat the brown-haired boy. 

One thing felt off, though. 

Midway through class, Izuku slipped away to the bathroom. When he came back, Akio and Todoroki were sitting cross-legged on the gym floor, talking low and close. Their heads jerked up the second he stepped in, and both of them scrambled back to their playing stances like they’d been caught. 

Izuku opened his mouth to ask, but Akio smacked the birdie up into the air, cutting him off, and that was that. 

When the final bell rang, the halls exploded into motion. “See you later tonight!” became the default goodbye, shouted over the slam of lockers and shuffle of sneakers. 

Akio was one of the last to pass Izuku. “Bye, Izuku. See you later,” he said softly, before slipping out into the crowd. 

“Bye!” Izuku called back. 

Todoroki lingered, walking beside him toward the main hall where Katsuki was waiting against the wall with his arms crossed. Their usual meeting spot, though not usually on Fridays. 

Izuku remembered then, Katsuki said he wasn’t staying after today. 

He was about to tell Todoroki goodbye when the other boy’s eyes shifted forward, landing on Katsuki. His brows drew together just slightly, almost like he was surprised. 

“Oh.” Todoroki’s gaze returned to Izuku. His voice dropped a little. “Are you two walking together?” 

Izuku blinked. Todoroki knew their history. Knew enough to understand that seeing them side-by-side again wasn’t normal. 

“Yeah,” Izuku admitted, trying not to panic. 

“Okay.” Todoroki’s reply was quick, clipped. 

“I’ll explain soon, okay? I’m sorry.” 

“You don’t have to.” Todoroki’s expression softened a fraction, though his words still carried weight. “As long as he’s changed with you.” He shifted his bag higher on his shoulder. “I’m walking with Iida, don’t worry. Bye.” 

They exchanged quick waves, and Izuku made his way toward Katsuki. 

“Hey,” he said. 

Katsuki narrowed his eyes, flicking them in Todoroki’s retreating direction. “What’s Half-and-Half’s deal? He looked at me weird just now.” 

Izuku’s stomach twisted. “What? No!” he said quickly. “It’s just…he didn’t know that you and I…you know.” 

The words felt awkward on his tongue. Like trying to label something they’d both agreed to leave unlabeled. 

“Ah, right….” Katsuki rubbed the back of his neck, then pushed off the wall. 

They fought through the flood of students until they hit the hill, where the air felt lighter and the noise thinned. Their conversation drifted into useless back-and-forths. Mostly Izuku trying to make Katsuki speak Spanish and Katsuki dodging with excuses, insults, and smirks. 

At their last block, Katsuki suddenly glanced over. 

“Hey, I forgot to ask—are you going with anyone to the dance?” 

Izuku looked up, met those sharp eyes, and immediately felt heat rush to his ears. “Sadly, no.” He looked away fast, hoping it would fade. 

“Do you wanna ride in my car then?” 

Izuku’s head snapped back toward him. “Seriously?!” 

Katsuki smirked. 

“I-I mean…” His ears were on fire now. “Sure! If you’re offering, who am I to say no?” 

“Alright then. Dance starts at eight, so I’ll pick you up at 7:45. That too early?” 

The blonde’s  car really was beautiful and a sweet ride on it would feel so great, especially for a boy like him that doesn’t own a car. 

“No, that’s fine. We live close anyway, but the parking lot will probably be a mess.” 

The two boys exchanged quick goodbyes and split off to their own houses, only a few doors apart. 

Inko wouldn’t be home until seven, so Izuku had time to relax before the inevitable rush of getting ready. 

Still, by seven-thirty he was in the bathroom, frowning at the mirror as he tried, and failed, to tame his curls. No matter how many times he smoothed them down, they sprang free again, as if mocking him. The navy suit jacket felt stiff on his shoulders, the white button-up tugging at his chest in a way that made him fidget. He’d abandoned his tie after three crooked, suffocating attempts, leaving the collar open instead, hoping it read as casual rather than lazy. 

He dabbed on a splash of cologne just as Inko peeked into his room. 

“Izuku? Oh, you look so handsome,” she said warmly, stepping in to fuss with his blazer. “Do you want me to drop you off?” 

“No, don’t worry, Mom.” He shifted so she could fix his lapel. “Kacchan offered to pick me up.” 

Her brows shot up. “Katsuki? I knew you two would reconnect after we moved back, but still… it’s surprising. How is he these days?” 

“Um.” Izuku blinked, scrambling. He’d forgotten his mom didn’t know the full story of their acquaintance. “He’s good. He, uh… he still takes Spanish, actually. That surprised me.” 

“Oh! He stuck with it?” 

“Yeah,” Izuku said, lips tugging into a small smile. It was easier, safer, to talk about Katsuki like this, in small, normal details. “He’s actually pretty good at it.” 

“I’m glad.” She smoothed his collar with a fond smile, her eyes softening into that knowing-mom look that made Izuku’s ears go hot. “I’ve noticed you two walking together in the mornings sometimes.” 

His chest jolted, like they’d been caught doing something they shouldn’t. “Uh—yeah. We’ve just… seen each other more at school, that’s all. He’s only giving me a ride for the dance.” He tried to keep his tone light, brushing off the sudden weight in his throat. 

“Mhm.” Inko only smiled, but Izuku caught a glint in her eyes. 

Inko pulled her phone out of her pocket, eyes already misting. “Wait! Let me get a quick picture of you!” 

“Mom…” Izuku groaned, shoulders slumping, but he still straightened up. He forced a quick smile for her camera, knowing it would make her happy. The shutter clicked, and Inko beamed like it was the proudest photo she’d ever taken. 

“Perfect,” she said softly, holding the phone to her chest like she wanted to keep the moment safe forever. 

Izuku rubbed at the back of his neck, embarrassed but fond. “Okay, okay, don’t get too sentimental. I gotta go.” 

He grabbed his phone off the counter and slipped toward the door before she could press further, heart already starting to race with the thought of who was waiting outside. 

Opening the door, Katsuki’s car was already idling at the curb, headlights glowing against the dusk. The sleek red Ford Mustang gleamed under the last rays of sunset, polished enough that it caught the orange light like fire on its curves. Izuku didn’t even bother checking the brand as he walked up to the car, he just knew it screamed Katsuki. 

But the car wasn’t what knocked the air out of his lungs. 

As Izuku was getting near the boy and amount to enter the car, he nearly forgot how to breathe. Katsuki Bakugo was in all black. A fitted button-up with the sleeves shoved to his elbows, dark slacks, silver glinting off a chain bracelet and rings that made his hands look unfairly good. No blazer. No tie. Just Katsuki, and somehow, he looked like he’d walked straight out of a magazine spread. 

Izuku’s heart lurched. Oh, lord. I’m doomed.  

The blonde didn’t say much when Izuku slid into the passenger seat. Just once, his eyes lingered a second too long, before shifting the car into drive. 

“Hey, nerd.” 

“H-hi,” Izuku stammered, still battling the urge to stare at Katsuki’s forearms. 

“Didn’t know you were going all fancy.” 

Izuku’s eyes went wide. “Is it too much? I didn’t know what to wear!” 

Katsuki gave him a quick side-eye. “You don’t look bad, nerd. Relax.” 

Hearing that from him felt like Aphrodite herself had leaned down to whisper a blessing. Izuku gripped his knees and forced himself to look out the window, trying not to combust. 

To distract himself, he asked, “Why do you always call me nerd?”

He’d been wondering that since the first day they talked again. Might as well ask.

Katsuki’s mouth twitched. “How could I not?” He kept his gaze on the road, which only made Izuku’s chest sink a little. 

“You sometimes call me Izuku,” he said softly, careful to leave out the childhood nickname. “But why nerd?” 

They stopped at a red light, and Katsuki let his hands rest loose on the wheel. 

“Let’s see…” he drawled. “The day I helped you unpack, I saw a mountain of journals and notebooks, some labeled with band names, some with movies, like three different sets of school notes, a whole stack of CDs, a shelf of manga and books, and you’ll argue with me about history any chance you get.” He smirked faintly, foot tapping the pedal as the light turned green. “Need more proof?” 

Izuku slumped back. “No, thank you…” 

By the time they pulled up near the school, the night had come alive. Laughter and music spilled faintly from the gym, couples walked hand in hand beneath the streetlights, dresses swayed and heels clicked, suits pressed close as boys bent to whisper into girls’ ears. 

Neither of them spoke. Katsuki killed the engine, and silence pressed between them, thick with everything they weren’t saying. 

Izuku swallowed hard and pushed the door open. “Thanks for the ride, Kacchan.” 

Katsuki stepped out too, sliding the keys into his pocket. “No problem.” 

They lingered for a moment, both checking their phones, both pretending they weren’t stealing glances. Finally Katsuki muttered, “I’m heading in. Kirishima’s already there. See ya.” 

“Okay,” Izuku mumbled, busying himself with a text to Uraraka. She replied that she was already waiting. 

He turned briefly to the car window to check his reflection, sighing. Why do I care so much about how I look? 

A second later, arms wrapped around him from behind. 

“DEKU!” 

He yelped. “Ochako!” 

Uraraka giggled, her blonde girlfriend smiling at his side. 

“Wow, look at you,” she teased, linking arms with Toga. “You’re little prince tonight.” 

“I agree,” Toga said brightly. “You look good, Izuku.” 

Heat crept up his neck. “Thanks. You two look really pretty, too.” 

Uraraka’s dress was a soft pastel pink, cinched with a bow at her waist and flaring just above her knees, sweet and playful, perfectly her. Toga’s was pastel yellow, long and strappy, ruffles trailing around her legs in a way that made her look effortlessly radiant. 

“Thank you,” Uraraka said, giving a little ballerina bow. 

Her eyes flicked toward the red car behind him. “Hey, whose car is this?” 

“Oh, Kacchan’s.” 

She grinned, sharp and knowing. “Your buddy dropped you off?” 

“Yeah. Why?” 

“No reason.” Her grin only widened. 

Izuku squinted suspiciously. He knew she was hiding something, but Toga was already tugging her hand. 

“Should we head in?” she asked. 

“Yeah, let’s go!” Izuku and Uraraka said at once. 

The trio made their way to the school entrance, greeting classmates along the way. Izuku held the door for the girls, stepping inside after them and then he froze. 

The gym had been completely transformed. Warm lights glowed from strings of bulbs overhead, casting the whole room in a golden haze. Balloons in maroon and white arched across the entrance, confetti sparkled underfoot, a mirrorball sent shards of light scattering across the walls, and colored beams from rented stage lights swept the dance floor in waves. For once, the place didn’t feel like a gym. It felt like a ballroom. 

Izuku’s eyes went wide, too distracted by the magic of it all to notice, at first, the sight of Akio and Katsuki already talking across the room. 

He trailed after the pair of girls he’d entered with, saying hi to Mina, Iida, Todoroki, Ojiro, Momo, Jirou, basically faces he knew, comfort in the chaos. 

A dry throat pulled him toward the drink table. He grabbed a cup of fruit punch, leaned back against the gym wall, and let himself watch. From there he could see everything: couples dancing, friends laughing, the small worlds people created within one big one 

That’s when he felt someone drift to his side. 

He glanced over. It was Katsuki. 

Hands in his pockets, dressed head-to-toe in black, his chain catching the light. He stopped right next to Izuku. 

“Hey,” Katsuki’s voice was soft, but Izuku heard it clear despite the music. 

“Hey Kacchan,” Izuku echoed. 

They leaned against the wall together, silence stretching comfortably as the noise of the crowd filled the space for them. 

Izuku’s mind scrambled for something, anything, to say. A question about the blonde’s car crossed his mind. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask…what brand is your car?” 

Katsuki pulled his hands free, folding his arms across his chest. 

“It’s a Ford Mustang. 2005.” 

“Oooh,” Izuku breathed, a little too impressed. “When did you get it?” 

“As soon as I got my permit to drive, so around spring of sophomore year. My parents bought it for me. Thought I should go out more often.” 

Izuku nodded, a small pang in his chest. He’d always wanted a car, but with his mom working so hard just to keep them afloat, it wasn’t an option. She insisted he focus on school instead of getting a job, especially with college applications looming. Izuku never fully understood her reasons, but he respected them. 

Katsuki tilted his head, watching him. “You into cars? Since you seem to admire mine.” 

“Kinda, but not really,” Izuku admitted. “I’m into Formula One, so it’s hard not to like sports cars.” 

“So you are a nerd. And you asked me why I call you that” Katsuki smirked. 

“Oh, come on! Being passionate about things is normal.” 

“To an extent. Not sure about the hundreds of pages of notes you keep on it.” 

Izuku laughed softly. “Okay, fair…” 

Silence again. This time it was different though. He could feel Katsuki fidgeting, rubbing the back of his neck, like he was wrestling with whether or not to say something. 

Finally, Katsuki spoke. 

“Since you asked about the name-calling, can I ask you something? ” 

Izuku tilted his head. “Ask away.” 

“Why do you still call me Kacchan?” 

The words hit like a weight to his stomach. Izuku froze, heartbeat thundering as he searched for an answer he didn’t have. 

“I…” his voice faltered. “I don’t know.” 

Katsuki’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You don’t know why you still call me that?” 

Izuku froze. His brain becoming suddenly aware of how odd the question sounded. Why was he even bringing it up now? Out of everything they could be talking about? 

“I…I mean, I’ve never really called you anything else.” His voice wavered, unsure if that was even the right answer. 

“You could call me Katsuki. Or Bakugo. Like everyone else does.” 

Izuku’s brows knit together. He finally turned toward him, confusion written on his face. “Do you…want me to?” 

For a moment, their eyes locked. The air felt heavier, like Katsuki was actually thinking about it, like the answer mattered. Like the name mattered to him. His mouth parted, ready to spill something real, something that might shift everything between them. 

But then he looked away, jaw tightening. 

“…No.” 

Izuku blinked, heat creeping up the back of his neck. He wasn’t sure what unsettled him more: the question itself, or the fact that Katsuki didn’t really sound like he meant it. 

Heat rose in Izuku’s face, sharper than the lights flashing across the gym. 

Katsuki broke the silence again, voice lower now. 

“You didn’t seem to have a problem calling me Bakugo at the waterpark.” 

“That was different…” Izuku muttered. 

“How?” Katsuki pressed. 

Izuku swallowed. Why was he suddenly asking all these questions? If Izuku did the same, they’d be here for hours because Izuku had many questions to ask the blonde. He was just too scared to be as blunt as the boy is being right now. 

“I didn’t know if you wanted me to call you that in front of people,” he admitted softly, voice almost breaking. The real reason, because the name felt intimate, too intimate for them , he couldn’t say aloud.  

Katsuki didn’t answer right away. He stared straight ahead, jaw set. 

“I don’t care about others, Izuku. Call me by that name. I just wanted to know why you still did…after everything.” 

Izuku’s chest tightened. The music around them seemed to fade as his mind replayed Katsuki’s words, Izuku ... Call me by that name.  

His heart thundered louder than the music, drowning out the party. 

Katsuki rubbed his neck again, then pushed off the wall. 

“I’ll talk to you later, nerd. Denki’s waving me over.” 

And just like that, the black-clad figure walked away before Izuku could respond. 

Izuku’s pulse was still climbing when another voice cut through. 

“Hey.” 

Akio stood there, navy suit and tie sharp against the dance floor glow. Izuku chuckled. “Prince Charming, is that you? You really brought your ‘A’ game tonight.” 

Akio leaned against the wall beside him, eyes warm. “We’re matching unintentionally—and you look better than me.” 

“As if. I’d do anything to look like you.” 

Akio smiled, then gestured toward the doors. “Want to step out? There’s something I need to tell you.” 

The noise of the gym faded as they crossed into the hallway, the quiet hum of vending machines and distant footsteps replacing it. Posters lined the lockers, reminders of pep rallies and upcoming clubs. It was the same hallway Katsuki had waited in earlier. 

Akio leaned against the wall again, facing Izuku. “Sorry, I just needed it quieter.” 

“No problem,” Izuku said. 

Akio inhaled deep. “There’s no easy way to say this… but I wanted you to know I’m bi.” 

Izuku froze. The word hung in the quiet, softened by Akio’s vulnerability. Warmth spread through him, not repulsion, but a strange mix of comfort and trust. Akio had chosen him, to share something that he doesn’t even need to share. 

“I… don’t know how to respond,” Izuku admitted. “But I’m not judging you. If you thought I would.” 

“That’s not why I told you.” Akio’s voice dropped, eyes flicking down. “I just… feel safe around you. Safe enough to tell you something like that.” 

Izuku smiled, heart swelling at the thought. Someone felt safe with him. 

Silence lingered again, but Izuku’s mind screamed with a question he didn’t know if he had the right to ask. Still— 

“How did you know?” His voice was barely above a whisper. “That you were bi?” 

Akio looked at him, really looked, then tilted his head back toward the ceiling, humming as he thought. 

Izuku held his breath, hoping, desperately, that maybe Akio’s answer could help untangle the mess in his own chest. 

“I guess I always felt it, in a way,” Akio said softly. “When I was a kid, I didn’t see a problem with finding both boys and girls pretty. I thought it was normal.” 

He paused, then continued. “In middle school, I liked a girl, but nothing happened. So I knew I liked girls. Then I got close with a boy, and…my world flipped.” 

Flipped? Izuku thought, but didn’t interrupt. 

“The way I felt about that girl was similar, maybe even stronger, with boys. Like my heart didn’t know the difference between gender—it just fell. Love didn’t care what society said.” 

Izuku swallowed. That part, at least, resonated, even if he couldn’t explain why. 

“I had one girlfriend and one boyfriend in my old school. Most people told me it was a phase, or that I had to pick. But I can’t. When I like someone, I don’t care about gender. I just want them. ” 

Akio’s gaze returned to Izuku, a small smile tugging at his lips. 

“That’s…endearing. The way you fall in love, I mean,” Izuku murmured, surprised at how steady his voice sounded. 

Akio glanced at his mouth before looking away. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to get all cheesy on you.” 

“No, don’t worry,” Izuku said quickly. “I asked. Thank you for telling me.” 

“Then can I ask one last thing?” 

“Sure.” 

“Does this make you view me differently?” 

Izuku blinked. Their eyes stayed locked. Akio’s look was so earnest, it was like he could see right through him. Izuku’s stomach twisted with something between nerves and butterflies. 

Did he view him differently? Well…yes and no. 

It explained Akio’s natural flirting, though he hadn’t been doing it much since the waterpark. It also opened a bigger space for him in Izuku’s heart. He was so gentle, maybe the kindest person Izuku had ever met. That meant something. 

But it didn’t change the bigger thing: Izuku still hadn’t figured himself out. 

He picked his words carefully. “Only a little,” he said shyly. “You’re still a friend I really cherish, Akio.” 

Akio’s expression softened, though he let out a small sigh, like he’d been hoping for more. 
“I figured…” he murmured, looking away. 

He pushed off from the wall and wandered past Izuku. 
“I should head back.” 

“O-oh, right. I’ll…go in a few minutes.” 

Akio took a few steps, then turned back. 
“Izuku?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Have fun tonight.” He flashed a small smile before slipping into the gym. 

Izuku stared after him. If I were a girl, he thought, that smile would’ve set off fireworks in my chest.  

He leaned against the wall, finally letting himself breathe. His thoughts swirled, overflowing. 

“Like my heart didn’t know the difference between gender—it just fell”

That part stuck. 

He remembered the waterpark. His heart racing around so many people, his body tugged toward whoever he found attractive, regardless of gender. Toga had said something similar about her own realization. 

Could it really be that simple? 

But then…why did most people just fall for one gender? 

Woah, he was jumping the gun. He was straight. He liked girls. He was sure of it. 

Except…when it came to men, especially two specific boys, that’s where everything felt dangerous. 

Why now? Why was this all happening now? 

Izuku shook himself. He needed to head back before anyone wondered. He inhaled sharply, then pushed through the doors like nothing happened. 

Back inside, the night blurred in a haze of music and laughter. Uraraka and Toga danced together, even pulled off the “Perks of Being a Wallflower” routine. Todoroki surprised everyone with stiff but impressive moves. Mina tried dragging Katsuki out, but he stayed glued near Kirishima, arms crossed, scowling at the world. 

Akio only drifted by once, teasing Izuku about how chaotic his class must be. Izuku laughed, grateful the moment felt light again. 

By 10:30, Katsuki approached, looking irritated. “Hey, wanna go home?” 

“Sure.” Izuku’s head was pounding too. 

As they left, he caught Akio watching him. That uneasy flutter returned, low in his chest. 

The ride was quiet, both too tired to talk. Izuku wanted to ask Katsuki’s advice, just something, but the thought made his throat tighten. Not him. Not about this. 

When Katsuki pulled onto his street, he muttered, “Alright.” 

“Thanks, Kacchan.” 

“Yeah. Don’t worry about it.” His voice was low, but Izuku felt his eyes linger. 

Izuku was halfway out the door when Katsuki suddenly said, “Wait—!” 

He leaned down into the window. “Yeah?” 

Katsuki froze, like he hadn’t expected him to actually stop. “Hope you had fun, Izuku.” 

It was simple, but it made Izuku smile. “I did. I hope you did too, Mr. Grumpy.” 

Katsuki groaned. “Was I that obvious?” 

“Yeah, kinda. Is everything okay?” 

Their eyes met for a long second. Then Katsuki looked away. 

“Yeah. It’s whatever.” 

What’s going on? Izuku thought, heart stumbling. 

“Okay. Bye, nerd,” Katsuki suddenly shifted gears and drove away. 

“Bye, Kacchan!” Izuku called, watching the car rush off. 

There was something he wasn’t saying. Izuku could feel it. 

Inside, his mom greeted him with wide eyes, eager for details. He let her scroll through the handful of photos Uraraka had snapped, laughing with her about the night. But he left out the part where Akio’s words unsettled him, or how Katsuki’s questions still lingered. 

Later, in bed, those thoughts pressed down again, heavy and unshakable. Tomorrow. He’d face them tomorrow. 

For now, all he wanted was to sink into his pajamas and sleep. 

Chapter Text

The glass bottle spun in the center of the circle, squeaking against the floor with every rotation. Everyone sat cross-legged or on their knees, shoulders brushing, laughter spilling into the quiet room. 

Izuku’s throat was dry, his pulse quick with anticipation. The bottle slowed. His stomach dipped. What if it landed on him? What if it landed on— 

It stopped. 

Pointing straight at Akio. 

Heat rushed to Izuku’s face as the circle erupted with noise, teasing chants filling the air. Akio tilted his head, mouth quirking in that calm, unreadable smile of his. For a second, Izuku swore he saw curiosity flash in his eyes. 

But then, when Izuku blinked, Akio was gone. 

The bottle had shifted. It wasn’t pointing at him anymore. No, it was aimed at Katsuki. 

The cheers grew louder, morphing into a blur. “Looks like the middle school couple is back!” someone shouted. But neither Izuku nor Katsuki seemed to care about that comment. 

Izuku couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. His eyes locked onto sharp crimson ones across the circle, and everything else faded. 

Somehow, they were both standing. Walking toward the closet door. Neither said a word. 

And then the door slid shut behind them. 

And Izuku’s body moved before his mind could catch up. He lunged forward, lips meeting Katsuki’s, hands gripping strong shoulders, the world melting into a sensation he’s never felt before. Katsuki’s warmth, Katsuki’s scent, Katsuki’s breath hot against his mouth. It was desperate, messy, intoxicating. 

Izuku’s chest burned with something that felt terrifyingly like a want, almost like a need . 

When he jolted awake, heart pounding, he nearly tangled himself in the sheets. 

Breathless. Confused. His skin still prickling like it had actually happened. 

What the hell?! What kind of dream was that?  

Izuku tried to come up for some reasoning as to why on Earth he would ever dream of that.  

Sure, he had previous times before thought the blonde was…attractive and built in the right places. But…that dream…was too much. That’s not normal. No, no. Men feel that way about women. They have their fantasies. 

But could men feel that for men…? 

The thought sat heavy in his chest, like he’d swallowed something sharp. 

Izuku pressed his palms against his eyes until he saw sparks of color, as if forcing the idea away could make it disappear. But it didn’t. It only grew louder. Every reason he tried to come up with, every excuse, sounded thin and fake in his own head. 

Okay, time to get up! Izuku thought, springing out of his bed, heading toward the bathroom.  

Izuku splashed cold water on his face, gripping the edge of the sink. His reflection looked back at him with damp hair clinging to his forehead, eyes wide, guilty almost. 

He shook his head, muttering under his breath. It didn’t mean anything. It was just a dream. People dream about weird stuff all the time, right?  

But the way his body had reacted said otherwise. The way he still felt faint heat lingering in his chest, in his stomach, was too real to brush off. 

“Jeez, what’s wrong with me…” he whispered, pressing the towel against his face. 

Maybe it was because of homecoming. Because Katsuki had picked him up. Because they’d walked into the gym together. Because he’d asked if Izuku wanted to call him Bakugo instead of Kacchan. 

Little pieces of the night replayed in his head like puzzle pieces sliding into place. The dream hadn’t come from nowhere. Two possibly causes and sources for it. It had come from two specific boys. 

Izuku straightened, staring at himself again. His heart thudded in his chest. 

Do I actually like men?  

The apartment was quiet when Izuku finally headed downstairs. Too quiet. He blinked around the living room, noting the folded blanket on the couch, the faint smell of his mom’s coffee already gone. She must’ve left for work early. 

Which meant he was alone. 

Perfect. No one to see him dragging his feet, no one to notice the way his face burned every time the dream replayed in his head. 

He needed to shake it off. Do something, anything, to sweat it out of his system. 

So he tugged on his sneakers and headed outside. 

Temperatures were starting to drop as October started. The air was sharp, cool against his lungs as he took off down the familiar streets. Every slap of his feet against pavement was a beat to drown out that dream. Forget it. Forget the way his mouth felt, the way his body—Izuku shook his head hard and forced himself to push faster, ignoring the sting in his chest. 

By the time he looped back, his shirt clung to his skin, his legs heavy. But at least he was tired enough to feel something else. 

Breakfast was quick, a yogurt bowl he threw together without much thought. Banana and strawberry slices, granola, a drizzle of honey. He shoveled it down, half-tasting it, already thinking about the shower. 

Hot water. Steam filling the bathroom. He braced his hands against the tiles and squeezed his eyes shut…only to see Katsuki again. Broad shoulders beneath his palms. Heat radiating off him like fire. Lips he swore he could still feel against his own. 

Izuku’s heart lurched. He yanked the knob off, water still dripping down his face as he whispered, “Stop. Just stop.” 

Wrapped in a towel, he threw himself at his desk, determined to think of anything else. A worksheet lay untouched in his folder, something about Earth Science. Easy. He scribbled through it in record time, tapping his pencil furiously as if speed could erase memory. 

It didn’t work. 

When he dropped the pencil, silence filled the room again. His gaze lingered on the page, words swimming uselessly, until he finally shoved it aside. 

He leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. His chest rose and fell, uneven. 

This wasn’t going away. Not the dream. Not the heat crawling up his neck. Not the way his body had reacted to it. Not the feelings he’s been pushing off for weeks now. 

Izuku chewed his lip, torn between panic and curiosity. 

Finally, he dragged his laptop closer and flipped it open. The glow of the screen lit his face, too bright in the quiet afternoon. 

The blank bar of Google stared back at him. 

His fingers hovered above the keys. Stopped. Curled back. Hovered again. 

Slowly, hesitantly, he began to type. 

What does it mean if I feel attracted to someone of the same gender?  

Click. 

“ Feeling attracted to someone of the same gender can mean you are gay, lesbian, bisexual, pansexual, or another sexual orientation within the LGBTQ+ spectrum. ” 

Izuku’s stomach twisted. No, no, no… wait. Am I even sure I’m attracted to them?  

He deleted the question and tried again. 

How do you know when you’re attracted to someone?  

“… Various ways, often a combination of physical, emotional, and psychological responses. ” His eyes scanned down the screen, lips moving unconsciously as he read aloud. “… Noticing their appearance… feeling a fluttery sensation when they’re around… becoming nervous or excited in their presence… ” 

He shut the laptop halfway, pushing it slightly away. Okay, so it was clear. 

Izuku could admit that he’d been emotionally and physically affected by girls before. With Uraraka, just being near her used to make him shy and flustered. Back when he liked her, he’d catch himself noticing her beauty, admiring the way her hair framed her face. Even at the waterpark, he noticed plenty of girls but the black-haired girl who had approached him had definitely caught his attention. 

So girls were within his attraction. That much was obvious. 

Now men. 

He swallowed hard, chest tightening. Sure, he’d thought before that some guys were… attractive, almost models. But that dream? That was different. That was unchartered territory. 

Before he could spiral again, he remembered what Uraraka once told him: that she wrote things down when she was trying to make sense of her feelings. 

Izuku reached for his diary, flipping to a blank page. He uncapped a pen, hand shaking slightly as he wrote: 

Women – 100%, very clear that I like them 
Men – 

The pen hovered. His leg bounced nervously under the desk. 

He thought about the two boys who had introduced this whole mess into his head, Akio and Katsuki. 

What about Akio ? In art class, his smile had lingered on Izuku, easy and charming. The way he treated Izuku with a gentle touch, even though they’d only known each other for a month. When Akio had confessed so casually that he was bi, it had stirred something inside Izuku, something he hadn’t wanted to look at too closely. And then there was the “flirting,” or whatever it was that Uraraka teased about. That fluttery sensation in his stomach, wasn’t that attraction? 

And Katsuki . 

Izuku’s chest tightened, his hand pressing harder against the pen. Katsuki was different. Messier. Complicated. Somehow, the dream had blurred out the history between them, as if all the fights and grudges had been erased. The dream replayed in his head like a song stuck on loop. The press of lips, the heat of skin, the way his body had fit against Izuku’s in a way that felt too real. Even awake, the thought of Katsuki left him breathless, like he was being pulled toward something dangerous and inevitable. 

A blot of ink spread across the page before he finally scrawled it down: 

Men – ?  

Izuku leaned back, staring at the page. His heart raced, his throat tight. 

“Okay,” he whispered to himself. “So… what does that even mean?” 

His mind flickered to Akio and the confession he had just made, that he was bisexual . Google had suggested that feeling attraction to the same gender could place someone somewhere on the queer spectrum. He knew what that label meant. There was no need to second-guess other possibilities. 

Izuku paused, letting the words sink in. If what he felt for boys was genuine, if it was attraction, desire, and not just admiration, then maybe he could put a label on this mess in his head. He stared at the blank page in front of him, pen hovering, mind racing for an answer. 

Fine. I admit to being into them, he admitted to himself. 

He finally wrote, the pen scratching across the paper. 

Men – ? some sort of attraction  

He leaned back, staring at the words as if seeing them in ink might make it easier to accept. The thought of the two boys lingered at the edge of his mind, but he pushed it aside for now. 

He reached for his laptop, opening it with trembling fingers. Izuku’s fingers hesitated over the keyboard before typing: 

Bisexual.

Enter.

The search results loaded almost instantly. The first link was simple, almost clinical: 

“Bisexual is the romantic or sexual attraction toward more than one gender. Not necessarily at the same time or to the same degree. Bisexual people may feel attraction to men, women, and non-binary individuals.”  

Izuku blinked at the words, letting them sink in. He had read the definition before, somewhere, but seeing it now, on the screen, so official, so real, made his chest tighten. Men, women…non-binary…okay. His mind flicked back to Akio and the confession he’d just shared.  

Scrolling down, a short Q&A appeared: 

Q: Does being bi mean I’m confused? 
A: No. Being bisexual is a valid sexual orientation. Feeling attraction to more than one gender is normal. 

Izuku’s heart stuttered. Normal…? He stared at the screen, a small spark of relief and fear mixing in his chest. 

Growing up, anything LGBTQ+ was judged, made fun of, even bullied. He’d learned that firsthand, even though he hadn’t been into boys in middle school. Ah, he sidetracked. He needed to focus on this, not his past. 

Another snippet caught his eye: 

Q: How do I know if I’m really bi? 
A: Only you can define your orientation. Attraction is personal and can evolve over time. 

He leaned closer, reading the next few lines aloud to himself: 

“Many bisexual people feel unsure at first. They may notice attraction to more than one gender and question what it means. This does not make you ‘confused’ or ‘wrong’. It makes you human.”  

Izuku’s hand hovered over the keyboard, unsure if he should search more or just sit with the information. He scrolled down to a list of personal stories: “My First Crush on a Boy,” “Realizing I’m Bi in High School,” “How I Felt When I Liked Both Genders.” He clicked one at random. 

The words resonated these people spoke sounded almost too close to his own current experience. He remembered Akio’s soft confession, the flutter in his chest, the way the dream replayed Katsuki’s heat and closeness like a memory he hadn’t lived yet. 

So…this does happen to others, who are or once were just as scared learning this. 

A small, shaky breath escaped him. For the first time, he allowed himself to sit with that label, to let it feel real. Izuku pressed his hand against the desk, his thoughts a storm of excitement, fear, and confusion. But for now, he simply let himself breathe. 

Then a thought came to him. 

Maybe he could watch a movie, something that depicted someone discovering this part of themselves, like he was right now. It was the type of story that might help him accept it fully. 

He searched and found a film released in 2023, based on a novel by Casey McQuiston: Red, White & Royal Blue. He’d heard of it before, but never really paid attention. He had assumed it leaned more toward politics than romance. Yet now, it felt like exactly what he needed. 

Izuku had never really watched movies about gay romances, not because he disliked them, but because he’d always felt shy. Yes, he loved romcoms, but this…this was outside his usual comfort zone. And yet, he wanted, no, needed , to watch it. 

The plot followed Alex Claremont Diaz, son of the U.S. President, and Prince Henry Fox of Great Britain. They began as rivals, their dislike for each other clear. But after a public incident caused diplomatic tension, they were forced to pretend to be close friends to cover it up. Slowly, their staged closeness blossomed into something more. 

Alex’s journey of bisexual awakening and his own emotional growth mirrored what Izuku was feeling now. Watching them, he felt a resonance he hadn’t expected. The sudden attraction, the nervous excitement, the fear of what it meant, all of it reflected the dream he’d had about a very specific blonde boy kissing him. 

Woah. Okay. His mind stopped. 

If he accepted being bisexual, did that mean he might like Akio…or maybe even Katsuki? 

Before he answered that, he needed to be sure. Google had told him some people reject labels and just follow their hearts, and maybe that was okay. But for Izuku, giving a name to these feelings, bisexual, brought comfort. It made the panic, the confusion, the endless questions feel less scary. It made everything make sense, or at least feel valid. 

He stood and walked to the full-length mirror on his wall, beside his closet. Staring at his reflection, he took a deep breath, then exhaled, finally saying the words aloud. 

“I am…bisexual.” 

The room echoed back the statement. 

“I…am bisexual.” 

His heart thudded hard against his chest. 

“I am bisexual.” 

By the third repetition, his breaths had quickened. He stretched his arms wide. 

“I’m bisexual!” 

He was grateful he no longer lived in apartments, he needed this space to shout, to let the words fill the room. It was medicine for his heart. 

Finally, his voice softened again, quiet but sure: 

“I’m bisexual.” 

And for the first time in a long time, he believed it. 

The rest of the day, Izuku spent letting it all sink in, watching more videos of people sharing their experiences discovering their sexuality. One video described a boy’s first kiss with another boy, how nervous and excited he had felt. Izuku felt a strange heat rise in his chest, forcing himself to look away, trying not to think about the dream that had started it all. 

When his mother got home, he acted normal, as if he had only spent the day watching movies and drawing. Inko didn’t notice anything unusual. 

The next morning, he woke up without the flash of another dream. Relief washed over him, he could feel these things, and it was normal, accepted. His daily run felt lighter, freer, his heart no longer burning with confusion. 

Around noon, with the sun high in the sky, a thought struck him: he should tell Uraraka. She had always been perceptive, even teasing him a little about Akio, so maybe she’d understand. He was journaling about yesterday’s self-discovery when he picked up his phone. 

His thumb hovered over her contact, shaking slightly. She probably already suspects, heck probably already knew, he thought, taking a deep breath. It’s okay, I want Uraraka to know.  

And then, finally, he pressed call. 

The phone rang twice before Uraraka picked up, her cheerful voice bubbling through the speaker. 

“Hey, Deku!” 

Suddenly, his throat went dry, the weight of what he was about to confess hitting him. 

“H-hey, Ochako,” he cleared his throat. 

There was a pause on the other end, and then a small laugh. “You sound a little off. Is something wrong?” 

“Oh, no, everything’s good, um...” His thumb fidgeted against the phone. “I…there’s something I wanted to tell you.” 

“Oh?” she said. “Wait, give me a second.” 

Muffled sounds of movement filled the few moments Izuku waited, his heart beginning to thud louder with each second. 

“Okay! Sorry, I was with Toga. What did you need to tell me?” 

He swallowed. “I thought about a few things, and I figured some things out about myself. About…who I like.” His chest tightened. “And…um…” 

He closed his eyes. “I think I’m bi.” 

The world went silent. Even though he had accepted it for himself, he hadn’t prepared for how it would feel to say it out loud to others. Was this what Akio felt like? Except Izuku knew Uraraka wouldn’t judge him. Akio hadn’t had that certainty. 

A soft chuckle finally came through the phone. “Deku, you finally figured it out?” 

He blinked. “What?” 

“First, you don’t know how happy I am that you told me this and that you found this part of yourself,” her voice soothed his nerves instantly. “Am I the first person you told?” 

“Yeah,” he admitted. 

“Well, thank you for trusting me.” 

Izuku smiled despite the nerves twisting in his chest. 

“Now…” she teased, “I hope you know I’ve been rooting for this since that one football game.” 

“How could you even know before I knew it myself?” he asked, flustered. 

“My gaydar’s never wrong, sweetie,” she said with a laugh. “But really, I could sense you had an uneasiness in your heart. And as your best friend, I knew.” 

Izuku groaned softly. “Maybe, just maybe, you were right all along…” 

“You’re adorable, you know that?” she said, still laughing. “Don’t worry, Deku. If you need someone to talk to about how you feel—about anything, any time—I mean it, I’m here for you.” 

His chest warmed. “Thanks…really. I think I’ve finally accepted it, but it’s still a little scary.” 

“No problem. Just promise me you’ll be honest with yourself, okay? And don’t rush anything. You’re still figuring it out, and that’s okay.” 

“I promise,” he said, smiling. For the first time in a long while, it felt like someone truly understood. 

“Good,” she giggled. “Now go before you start overthinking everything!” 

“I will,” he replied, his voice lighter. “Thanks, Uraraka. Seriously.” 

“Anytime, Deku. I’m always here for you.” 

The call ended. 

Izuku sat there with the phone still in his hand, a smile lingering on his lips. For once, he wasn’t weighed down by confusion. It wasn’t some storm of questions, it was a quiet truth. 

Akio’s confession didn’t feel so foreign anymore. In fact, it made him wonder if that was why he felt so drawn to him in the first place. Why their conversations felt easier, why Akio’s smile lingered in his mind. 

And Katsuki… Izuku’s chest tightened slightly. If he admitted he was attracted to men, then he had to admit there was something about Katsuki that pulled at him too, something heavier, more complex, more dangerous. He wasn’t ready to untangle that yet. Not today. 

But maybe soon. 

For now, it was enough that he’d said the words out loud. Enough that he wasn’t carrying this alone anymore. 

Chapter Text

The town of Northvale was painted in late autumn. The greens of September had burned into warm oranges, reds, and browns, each gust of wind shaking more leaves loose from the trees that lined the sidewalks. The ave followed its usual seasonal rhythm, shop windows filled with paper bats and cobwebs, restaurants scrawling goofy pumpkins and ghosts across their chalkboard menus, and plastic skeletons dangling by front doors. As October started, the air carried a crisp chill, the kind that hinted at winter waiting for its season to arrive.

At Northvale High, that same shift was alive in the halls. Halloween flyers decorated bulletin boards, chatter about costumes and weekend parties buzzed between lockers, and friend groups made after-school plans to wander the ave in search of cheap pumpkin spice drinks. For most students, it felt like the fun part of the semester.

For seniors, though, it was also the beginning of a different kind of season. College applications. The word seemed to hang over every conversation, a reminder of deadlines waiting just a few weeks away. Some students had started back in September, already asking teachers for recommendations and scribbling through essay drafts. Others, like Izuku, had been too distracted, too caught up in the chaos of starting senior year, to even think about it until now.

Now it was unavoidable. Counselors dropped reminders in homeroom. Honors classes piled on pressure about resumes and scholarships. Even the everyday chatter started to twist toward the future: where everyone was applying, which schools felt like a reach, and how terrifying it was to imagine life after Northvale.

Izuku had a few colleges and universities in mind, ones he’d jotted down during quick conversations with his counselor. He didn’t have a clear career path, no major that made his heart race, but he knew where his strengths were. History and literature had always been easy for him to lean into. Science, too. He’d scored 5’s on his AP Biology and Chemistry exams without much trouble. Even math came naturally most of the time, though he sometimes stumbled thanks to a teacher everyone agreed barely taught.

On paper, he was fine. More than fine. He could apply, get in somewhere good, and figure the rest out later.

But his mind had been everywhere. Sure, he had accepted his sexuality, and the new feelings he allowed himself to feel, but it was all still so new. He didn’t know if he should tell others yet. Did he owe them that? No. Akio and Uraraka, people who had opened up to Izuku about these things, didn’t owe him an explanation, and neither did he to anyone. This was meant for him. What he struggled with was knowing how he was supposed to act now. The term didn’t change who he was, it just validated the scary feelings he had as something real, something he didn’t have to run from anymore.

Still, being around two very specific boys, one who invaded Izuku’s dreams and one who had only just stepped into his world, scared the hell out of him.

Every day since that unusual dream, being near Katsuki felt like walking beside fire. The lingering memory of his warmth still haunted him, and Izuku couldn’t look at the blonde the same way. Their morning walks went fine enough. They still bickered over small things. But Izuku prayed he hadn’t noticed his sudden shift, the way he avoided eye contact whenever he could, whether at school or while walking beside him.

Maybe Izuku was imagining it, but Katsuki seemed different too. It could’ve been the pressure from school. Katsuki was one of the top students in their school, carrying one of the highest GPAs. On top of that, he was the star of the men’s volleyball team, with multiple colleges pushing him to apply and choose them. With applications looming, Izuku didn’t dare ask if he was okay.

Oh, how badly he wanted to. But ever since their talk at the dance, it felt like every question they asked each other pressed on a nerve neither wanted to face. So Izuku stayed quiet, holding back the urge to ask two things in particular.

First, why, after everything, was the name Kacchan suddenly okay for him to use? And second, since they were on the topic of name calling, why did Katsuki stop calling him “Deku”?

He’d missed his chance twice to bring it up, once in the car and once at the dance. And if he asked now, it would only make things awkward. It would force them to confront the unspoken past that they’d been pretending was nothing, that nothing had ever happened between them.

The silence between them only deepened with the rainy, humid days October dragged in. Katsuki had hated the rain for as long as Izuku could remember, always complaining about how sticky the air felt on his skin. Izuku, with his wavy hair frizzing up in the damp air, never minded it. As kids, he’d even dragged Katsuki into puddles with him. It was one of his favorite memories, one he almost mentioned, but with how fragile things felt now, he didn’t dare. He didn’t even want to know whether Katsuki remembered it too.

The day before one of these rainy days, Izuku stayed up late watching movies. He’d queued up Call Me By Your Name, another queer film he’d heard about online, curious to see what it might stir in him. And it did. Elio’s restlessness, the way everything felt too heavy for someone so young, resonated with him in a way that made his chest ache. But it was the father’s words that lingered, even as the credits rolled.

“Right now, there’s sorrow. Pain. Don’t kill it, and with it, the joy you felt.”

Izuku wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. It was true. He and Katsuki had ripped so much of themselves away, trying to pretend their past didn’t matter. Pretending nothing happened. But what if all that pretending and ignoring the weight of their past was killing the good parts too? The joy? Or rather the memories the two boys could build together their last year before everything in their life changes?

He didn’t want to think about it anymore.

Afterward, he put on another movie, hoping to avoid falling asleep with that heaviness. He chose Big Daddy, an Adam Sandler classic. The comedy and father-figure trope should’ve been the perfect comfort. But the ending broke him again, watching a boy who never got to keep the man who cared for him like a son.

So, long story short, Izuku didn’t fall asleep until around 4 a.m. His puffy, red eyes told the story the next morning.

And the first person to notice? Katsuki, on their walk to school.

The second Izuku stepped out, he popped open his umbrella. A few houses down, Katsuki did the same. The chill in the air had Izuku reaching for long sleeves these days, while Katsuki stubbornly stuck to his usual T-shirt.

Izuku rubbed at his eyes with his sleeve, praying they didn’t look as bad as they had in the mirror.

Katsuki reached their corner first. Izuku rushed across as a car let him through, shivering when a gust of wind sent cold droplets scattering across his face.

“Jesus, it’s freezing...” he muttered.

Katsuki barely glanced over. “It’s not that bad.”

They fell into step, the rhythm of their morning being a habit now.

“Yes it is,” Izuku shot back.

“If anything, it’s the damn rain hitting against my skin. That's what’s irritating.”

Izuku chuckled under his breath.

Katsuki caught a glance at him and stared. “You okay?”

Izuku blinked. “Hm? Oh, yeah, why?”

“Do you own a mirror? You look like shit right now.”

Izuku winced. “Ah! That...okay, so I maybe stayed up watching movies...”

“Of course you did,” Katsuki snorted. “Which ones? At least tell me they were good. Or did someone break up with you halfway through because your eyes are all puffy and shit—”

“Kacchan!”

“Kidding.”

Izuku huffed. “I watched two movies, ‘Call Me By Your Name’—”

“Sounds lame.”

He side-eyed him. “—and ‘Big Daddy’.”

Katsuki nearly choked. “What in the ever-living fuck are those titles?”

“The first one’s a love story in Italy in the 80s, super beautiful, made me cry.” Izuku didn’t mention the fact it was a queer film, something about the idea of saying that out loud to Katsuki made his throat tighten. He didn’t know how the blonde would react, and he wasn’t ready to risk it. “And the second one was about a kid and his dad, except the dad wasn’t really his dad, and the ending made me mad and cry.”

“Sounds boring and stupid.” Katsuki gave him a look. “This is the kind of crap filling your notebooks?”

Izuku gasped. “Wow, you’re such a softie, Kacchan. Real emotional. And yes, actually, it is those kinds of movies.”

Katsuki scrolls, shooting the boy a glare. “Shut up.”

They crossed the street like always, no cars in sight.

“So, what do you watch then?” Izuku asked.

“Only badass superhero movies with explosions.”

“Oh, so like Marvel? DC? Stuff like that?”

“Hell yeah. You into Marvel?”

Izuku looked personally offended as Katsuki glanced over at him. “It offends me that you even had to ask.”

“Fine, okay. Team Iron Man or Cap?”

“Captain American. End of discussion,” Izuku stated clearly, looking ahead.

“What?! Oh, come on! Iron Man is the only right choice!”

Izuku laughed, rushing to catch up as the rain picked up again. “Of course you‘re on his side.”

“Damn right I am,” Katsuki shot back. “Iron Man’s smart, rich, does whatever the hell he wants, and he owns it. He’s not some stiff in spandex preaching about rules.”

Izuku scoffed. “Captain America isn’t just about rules, he’s about standing up for what’s right, even when no one else will. He’s selfless. He’s the kind of hero people can believe in.”

“Or the kind of idiot who gets himself killed trying to play saint,” Katsuki muttered, shoving his free hand into his pocket.

Izuku shook his head, smiling to himself. “You just don’t get it.”

“And you’re blind if you think Cap’s better than Iron Man,” Katsuki snapped, though there wasn’t as much heat in his voice as usual.

Izuku shook his head, smiling despite himself. “I see why you like Iron Man. That guy’s a total jerk, just like you.”

He meant it light, teasing. But the second the words left his mouth, Katsuki stiffened. His smirk faded, eyes narrowing just a little too sharply.

“What the hell did you just call me—” Katsuki’s voice dropped, rougher than before.

A horn blared as a car slowed, the driver waving for them to hurry. Katsuki cursed under his breath and stormed ahead, pace picking up fast. Izuku scrambled to keep up, his laugh dying in his throat.

They climbed the hill of their school in silence, the rain drumming steadily against their umbrellas.

Izuku’s chest tightened. He’d only been joking, teasing like he always did, but the look on Katsuki’s face… it was like he’d spit out poison without meaning to. Like he’d hit a nerve Katsuki was terrified to expose.

Their past felt like a bullet wound covered by nothing more than a mere bandaid, fragile and temporary. Every word between them pressed against it, threatening to tear it open. And now Izuku couldn’t stop wondering if his own words had done just that.

Getting close to Katsuki, whether physically or emotionally, had started to feel playing with fire. Like handling something fragile with cracks running too deep. One wrong move and it might shatter. Izuku was afraid of what might spill out from the deep cracks, exposing all the damage done in middle school.

After the morning he’d called Katsuki a jerk, though he hadn’t exactly meant it, their walks grew quieter. They stuck to small mentions about class, no longer venturing into the kind of conversations that revealed anything real. The shift left Izuku restless, afraid of pushing at a crack too deep to patch.

So, little by little, he found himself leaning toward someone else. Izuku was still fumbling through the quiet discovery of his heart’s true orientation, but with one boy, it didn’t feel so heavy or sharp. Around him, the restless ache in his chest softened into something calmer. Something safer.

Akio.

What eased that fear was Akio. He was distraction, comfort, and curiosity all at once. By the time Izuku walked into art class that day, Akio was already there, waiting like a safe space after the morning’s tension.

Izuku slid into the seat beside him. “Hey.”

Akio tugged an AirPod out. “Hey.”

“What are we doing today?” Izuku asked, trying to sound casual.

Akio shrugged. “Not sure. I think we’re starting something new.” He stuffed the earbuds into his pocket.

Izuku tilted his head. “What were you listening to?”

“Mac DeMarco.”

Izuku’s eyes widened. “Wait, you listen to him?!”

Akio’s mouth curved into a small grin. “Some of his stuff, yeah.”

Izuku laughed at himself, scratching his cheek. “Sorry, I just got too excited.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Akio said lightly, leaning in a bit.

Before Izuku could answer, Mr. Yamada’s voice boomed. “Alright class! New project. Originally, I was gonna have you copy photos into sketches.”

Mr. Yamada walked over to the windows. “And we will be doing similar but…” he shifted the blinds covering the glass. “We’ll be going outside and you will instead be sketching our school’s building and painting it!”

From the art room window, Izuku and Akio could already see it. The north building, tall and castle-like with red and brown brick. Northvale High was actually two separate buildings: the north building, where the core classes took place, and the smaller south building, which held electives like art. Their classroom sat in the south building, facing the larger structure. On a clearer day, the north building looked almost majestic, but under today’s gray sky, it loomed, its white-edged towers rising like something out of a storybook.

Mr. Yamada headed back to his desk, “I’m so sorry for anyone who doesn’t wanna go out to this rainy day, but it’s gonna rain all week so might as well hurry up before the rain returns!”

Groans and chatter broke out, but everyone shuffled for clipboards and pencils. Izuku grabbed his supplies and fell in step with Akio as the line spilled down the back stairwell as they followed the group into the hallway. The students headed downstairs to the first floor, a little stairway in the middle of the hallway as a quick exit instead of going through the main entrance.

As they walked down, Akio kept stealing quick glances at Izuku.

“Hey,” Akio said softly as they walked. “You okay?”

Izuku blinked at him. “Why do you ask?”

“Your eyes look… kinda puffy.”

Izuku gave a small laugh. “Oh. Yeah, I stayed up late watching movies.”

“What’d you watch?”

“‘Call Me By Your Name’ and ‘Big Daddy.’”

Akio nearly tripped on the step. “Wait, seriously? I love Call Me By Your Name.”

Izuku’s head snapped toward him. “No way, you’ve seen it?!”

“Yeah. Back when it came out, actually. I was like, 12.”

“12? That’s so young!”

“Well,” Akio shrugged with a faint smile. “I knew what I liked pretty early.”

The boy quickly remembered his confession from the dance, and heat rushed to Izuku’s face. He ducked his head, clipboard clutched tighter against his chest.

Once outside, the wind cut across the courtyard. Students spread out, finding places to sit and draw the castle-like building. Izuku shivered, then focused on starting the sharp lines of the roof tower, pencil scratching against the page.

“So,” Akio said after a pause, pencil moving steadily, “what did you like about it?”

Izuku looked up. “The dad’s speech made me cry so much. And the cinematography, it’s gorgeous. Every shot feels alive.” His voice picked up, brighter. He never really got a chance to ever geek out to someone about something he loves, and he could ramble on about this movie for hours, and he was glad Akio asked. “Oh! And the ending was so evil!”

Akio chuckled. “I liked the speech too. And that line ‘Is it better to speak or to die?’ Still sticks with me.” He hesitated, then added, a little sheepishly, “Also, I had the biggest crush on Elio…or rather Timothee Chalamet.”

Izuku smiled, he actually had never known what kind of people Akio was into. “Yeah, the entire movie is beautiful.”

“Hey,” Akio said, almost offhand. “I have the book, if you wanna borrow it.”

Izuku blinked. “What? Really?”

“Of course. I work at a bookstore. Perks of the job.”

Izuku had no idea this boy worked at a bookstore.

“I—I don’t want to take your copy,” Izuku stammered. “I can just buy one—”

Akio shook his head, meeting his eyes. “Izuku, I don’t mind giving it to you.”

Something fluttered in Izuku’s chest at the way he said his name. He hoped the cold wind would hide the color rising in his cheeks.

“…Thanks, Akio.”

“Don’t thank me.” A quiet laugh slipped out of him. “It’s just a book.”

But to Izuku, it didn’t feel like just anything.

The class continued on with their sketches, everyone scattered across campus in their own little worlds. Izuku and Akio kept their conversation low, still murmuring about the movie and the little details they both loved so much.

Days passed like that. Katsuki and Izuku grew quieter. Maybe the rain poured too heavy, washing their words away. Whatever the reason, one morning, one of the rare dry ones, Akio came to class with puffy eyes.

Izuku had gotten there first for once. He set his bag down, glancing toward the door, wondering where Akio was. He was always early. Just as Izuku pulled out his sketchbook, Akio walked in.

He wasn’t in his usual jeans. Instead, he wore a baggy grey sweater layered over a white shirt and black sweatpants. His hair was mussed, his expression soft and worn.

“Hey,” Akio said quietly, sliding into his seat.

“Woah, are you okay?” Izuku asked.

Tired shadows hung under Akio’s eyes. He looked like a teary-eyed puppy.

“No, not really.” Akio tried for a smile, but it landed flat. “Fuck, it’s cold in here…”

Izuku scooted his chair closer, concern tugging at him. He’ll never get used to hearing Akio curse. “What’s wrong?”

Akio shrugged. “Work killed me last night. I didn’t get home ‘til 10 because of some meet and greet. Then homework. So yeah, I’m barely hanging on.” His voice dropped lower, but at the end he let out a sharp, “And it’s cold in every classroom!” His shoulders shivered with the words.

Izuku exhaled in relief. “Oh god, you had me thinking something terrible happened. Not that that isn’t bad! You must be exhausted. It’s just your eyes looked so sad.”

Akio glanced up at him. “Maybe they’re sad because they hadn’t seen you until now.”

That stopped everything. Izuku froze, words stuck in his throat.

“I—uh—I’ll just…get your stuff for you,” he stammered, bolting up toward the bin of portfolios. His face burned. What the hell did Akio mean by that?! Was he joking? Or actually full-on flirting? Should he ask Uraraka? No, absolutely not, but maybe… Argh! Damn you, Akio, and your stupid flirty words!

He returned, slower than before, with Akio’s folder.

“Here you go,” he mumbled.

“Thanks, Izuku.”

They both pulled out their pencil cases. Yesterday they’d finished sketching the school. Today was tracing onto watercolor paper.

Halfway through, Akio spoke again. “Can I ask you something, Izuku?”

“Sure.”

“Do you work?”

Izuku blinked down at his paper. “Ah, no. My mom doesn’t let me. I’ve tried a bunch of times, but she always says I should focus on school so I can get a scholarship.”

“Aw,” Akio smiled softly. “She sounds sweet. She cares a lot, huh?”

“Yeah. You almost met her at the carne asada, but she felt sick from the sun and went home early.” He paused, thinking maybe his mom would actually like Akio.

“I’d love to meet her someday.”

“I don’t get why she won’t let me work, though,” Izuku admitted. “I know she struggles to keep us both living comfortably. She works almost every day…”

Akio nodded, his pencil moving slow. Then he murmured, “Sometimes mothers would rather suffer themselves, just to see you shine.”

Silence stretched.

Akio blinked, sitting back. “Whoa. That sounded way too deep.”

Izuku laughed.

“Didn’t mean to get all deep like that,” Akio chuckled, scratching the back of his neck.

“Don’t worry,” Izuku said, but he couldn’t stop thinking about it. The words sounded like they came from somewhere real.

“Akio,” Izuku asked softly. The boy looked up. “Was that…about your family?”

Akio set his pencil down and leaned back, shoulders loosening. “I seriously didn’t mean to get so heavy, but yeah. I feel that way about mine.” His voice dipped on the last word, quieter.

Izuku hesitated, a question tugging at him. It wasn’t really his business, but—

“Do your parents know that you’re…?” He didn’t say the word, but they both knew what he meant.

Akio’s gaze flickered, hurt and memory pooling in his eyes. Izuku worried he’d crossed a line. But then Akio glanced around the room, making sure no one was listening, before leaning close.

“My parents do know,” he whispered. “I came out when I was 13. Eighth grade.”

Akio is brave, Izuku thought.

“But…only my mom supports me,” Akio said, glancing at him then back to the desk. “My father doesn’t accept it, or rather, doesn’t accept me.” He leaned away again, like pulling back into himself.

Izuku hummed, not wanting to push. “I’m sorry. For that. And for asking, if it made you uncomfortable.”

Akio shook his head, a small laugh escaping. “Izuku, stop apologizing. First, what happened isn’t your fault.” His throat bobbed, like he swallowed those words hard.  “Second, I told you that I trust you. You can ask me anything.”

“If I say sorry again, will you get mad?” Izuku grinned, teasing.

Akio laughed for real that time, and Izuku’s chest warmed. He liked this. Having a friend who trusted him enough to share things most people hid.

The subject slipped away after that. They moved back to lighter things. Akio promised to bring the book sequel tomorrow, which apparently had a happy ending.

Izuku begged for spoilers, but Akio only smirked and refused.

The next morning, the sky stayed heavy and gray, rain misting the streets as they walked. Katsuki had asked Izuku something about the Earth Science PowerPoint they were supposed to start, and Izuku answered carefully.

They reached the classroom at the usual time, slipping into their seats. Today, though, Mina was pacing the aisles with her phone held like a microphone, bouncing with energy. She stopped at each desk, asking what everyone’s plans were for Halloween in two weeks.

Denki’s voice carried the loudest, announcing he’d be Goose from Top Gun, with Sero as Maverick. Izuku thought that was a nice duo. The girls were less committal, most said they weren’t sure. Uraraka said she had a plan and shot Izuku a quick look before Mina spun toward Momo. Momo only smiled and said her costume was a “surprise.”

Then Mina reached Katsuki’s desk, just behind Izuku’s.

“Hey, Bakugo. What’s your Halloween plan?” she teased, pushing the phone at him.

Katsuki swatted it away from his face. “We’ve got school that day. I’m not bothering with that crap.”

“Oh, come on! It’s a Friday. You can’t just stay home!” Mina groaned.

Katsuki flipped her off and turned toward the window, leaning back in his chair.

Same as always, Izuku thought, hiding a small smile.

Mina sighed dramatically and swiveled toward him instead. “What about you, Midoriya?”

“Um,”  Izuku shifted in his chair to face her properly. “I think I’ll probably go out with friends. I don’t know what I’m dressing up as yet, though.”

Mina grinned, turning the phone back to herself. “Yes! Keep that friendship alive! And don’t worry about costumes, you’ll pull off whatever you wear.” She winked, then darted a glance at Katsuki before moving on.

Kirishima walked in just in time to be her next victim, and before she could get too far, Mr. Aizawa arrived and class officially began.

After the dreadful first classes of the day, Izuku looked forward to art. He’d be with the boy he enjoyed being around, the boy who shared so many of his interests.

Akio was already there, seated and ready. Izuku slid in beside him, tapping his left shoulder just to trick him.

The boy fell for it, glancing the wrong way, and Izuku smiled as he sat down.

“Hey,” he said, setting his bag down.

“Hey,” Akio chuckled, realizing he’d been tricked.

Izuku noticed he’d already set out their watercolor papers and paints.

“Oh, thank you for bringing it already.”

“No problem.” Akio nudged Izuku’s cup of water closer.

Izuku was eager to dive in, watercolors were his favorite. His sketch was ready, and he knew exactly how he’d paint it. He only prayed the process would match the image in his head.

But Akio didn’t start. He just watched Izuku preparing, uncertainty written all over him. Izuku noticed, and smiled.

“What’s wrong?”

“Uh,” Akio scratched his cheek. “I don’t really know how to use watercolors.”

Izuku blinked, then laughed. “You always stuck to pencil on Fridays.”

“Yeah,” Akio admitted.

“Here.” Izuku moved his chair and paper closer. “I’ll teach you.”

He showed him how to wet the brush, how to let color and water flow together. “Always work in layers. They dry quick, so don’t rush.”

Akio followed every instruction carefully, almost too carefully, like he didn’t want to break the rules. Izuku smiled at how clueless he was with the medium. He looked almost like a kid learning something for the first time.

Then Akio brightened. “Wait, I think I’m getting the hang of this!” His eyes beamed with joy.

“See? You got this!” Izuku leaned closer to look, and honestly, it really was turning out good.

Still, a tiny ache formed inside him. These moments, when he knew more than Akio, were rare. Usually it was Akio who carried more experiences, more confidence. So Izuku savored it, this chance to guide him.

The bell rang too soon. They packed up quickly, both starving. The cold classrooms made lunch feel even farther away.

But as they stepped into the hall, a flood of students swallowed them. The second floor was a crush of bodies. Their usual exit toward the other building was impossible.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Akio muttered.

Izuku tried to see past him, but Akio was taller. Was he taller than Kacchan? He didn’t have time to think about it. Just as Akio braced to push through the crowd, Izuku remembered the back stairwell.

Without thinking, he grabbed Akio’s wrist. “Here, this way.” He marched toward it.

Akio let himself be pulled, as if he’d follow Izuku anywhere.

They descended the narrow stairs, Izuku still gripping him even though they were alone now. Only at the bottom did he realize he hadn’t let go. Akio’s skin was cold against his palm.

“Ah—sorry.” Izuku released him, quiet. He’d never touched Akio like that before. Only little accidental brushes during class. But this had been different. Certain. His heart knew it.

The cramped hall below held two doors, leading toward the closed-off auditorium. No one really came here, not like students were even allowed. It was too out of the way, too easy for strangers to slip in.

Akio peered through one of the door windows. “Izuku…” His voice was a whisper. “No one’s in there.”

Izuku joined him. The room was empty, pianos waiting, the board still scrawled with today’s date.

“Let’s go in,” Izuku said.

Inside, it smelled of dust and old wood. Posters from musicals, sheets of scales for piano, stray props. A room that belonged to someone else’s world.

Akio drifted farther in, pointing to a half-hidden stairwell at the back. “Look.”

Izuku followed and there it was. A small hidden hall, brick-walled, with a grand piano in the middle. Abandoned, but not forgotten.

Akio ran his fingers across its surface, then pressed a key. The sound echoed, startling Izuku with its beauty.

“Should I play something?”

“You can play piano?!”

Akio nodded, sliding onto the stool. “Yeah. I took lessons back in my old town.”

Izuku hovered close as Akio began. Fingers relaxed, then pressing into the keys. A melody unfolded, clear, beautiful, alive. Izuku’s breath caught.

Then he recognized it.

A song from a movie he’d watched too many times, one that carried longing in every note.

“Futile Devices” by Sufjan Stevens.

Call Me By Your Name.

Akio smiled up at him. “I knew you’d catch it.”

And suddenly it wasn’t just music anymore. It was Akio playing for him.

Izuku couldn’t speak. He just let the music fill the air and fill him.

And somehow, he noticed everything. The way Akio’s hair framed his face, how his fingers made something so soft sound so big, calming, beautiful. The navy blue sweater bunched at his elbows, the worn jeans brushing against the bench. Small details that shouldn’t matter, but somehow did.

Then—

“Hey! What are you two doing here?!”

An older staff member stormed in from the auditorium.

Akio scrambled up. “We’re so sorry, sir—”

“This piano is off-limits!”

Izuku panicked. “Sorry!” He grabbed Akio’s wrist again, and they bolted.

“Hey! Come back here!”

But Akio was laughing. “Izuku, faster!” He surged ahead, tugging Izuku with him this time. They burst through the forbidden glass doors, running like kids escaping the world. Security guards glanced but didn’t even bother stopping them.

By the time they shoved open the cafeteria doors, both of them were breathless, stumbling into each other between bursts of laughter.

“Oh god,” Akio wheezed, clutching his side. “That guy’s probably furious.”

Izuku, still catching his breath, admitted between laughs, “I’ve never gotten in trouble before. I hope he never remembers me or I’m in serious trouble.”

“What?! Seriously?!” Akio said between laughs. He reached over, ruffling Izuku’s hair with an easy grin. “Then if it happens again, just run. I’ll be right beside you.”

Izuku stilled, laughter fading. The words landed warmer than he expected, his chest tightening as their eyes lingered.

But then Akio’s cheeks flushed. He looked away, muttered, “See ya,” and slipped off toward his table, leaving Izuku standing there with his heart tripping over itself.

Izuku, still reeling, finally made it to his own. But eyes followed him. Mina. Todoroki. And Katsukic was glaring, sharp enough to cut. Izuku tore his gaze away.

Uraraka slid beside him, grinning. “What was that about?”

“We were just having fun. Like friends.”

“Oh yeah?” She leaned closer. “Well, now I know who your awakening was. I’ve never seen you laugh like that.”

Izuku choked on air.

“W-what?! No, no—you’re lying—”

“You didn’t even look at me that way back then.”

“I—I totally did!” His voice cracked, which only made her grin widen.

Uraraka patted his shoulder, gentler now. “Relax, Izuku. I like seeing you happy.”

Mina appeared behind her, bright as ever. “You and Akio are quite close huh?”

Izuku stammered, “We have art together.”

Mina bounded away, and Uraraka leaned in once more. Her tone softened. “Sorry. I just… you seemed really happy with him. That’s all.”

Izuku followed her gaze to Akio, laughing with someone across the cafeteria. His chest tightened. “He’s a good friend.”

“What about me?” she teased.

“You’re the worst friend ever.”

They laughed, and she hugged him before slipping away.

Despite their teasing and jokes, Izuku knew Uraraka was looking out for him. She’d been the first person he came out to, and even if the label felt right, there were still days his heart panicked at the thought of it. She understood. She was helping him find ease in himself, even if she wrapped it in jokes.

And still, when he glanced up, Katsuki’s eyes were on him. A glare, sharp as always. But the moment their gazes locked, Katsuki turned away too quickly. Almost guilty.

Izuku told himself not to think about it.

Instead, he let himself enjoy lunch. Akio’s nearness lingered like a warmth he wasn’t ready to admit he wanted, not out loud. So he hid it as best he could.

The rest of the week, Izuku acted normally in front of Akio and Uraraka. He tried not to let Akio’s charm make his heart race anymore. But the notes he played that day still echoed inside him, stubborn and steady, like they’d carved out a place in his chest. He wished he could have that moment again. No interruptions this time.

By the next week, reality came back hard.

When Izuku entered homeroom one morning, Mr. Aizawa was already there, early, which was rare. He stood at the front of the room with a stack of papers in one hand and a clipboard in the other. The usual morning chaos had died down the second people noticed him. Katsuki and Izuku slipped into their seats, side by side but worlds apart, and waited.

Once the first bell rang, Aizawa cleared his throat.

“Class, today we’ll be discussing college applications and your future. I’ll be pulling each of you out into the hallway for a private conversation, so be prepared.”

A quiet ripple of nerves spread through the room. Some kids perked up with smug confidence, already sure of their plans. Others shifted in their seats, uneasy. Izuku knew which group he belonged to.

Aizawa scanned his list. “Toru Hagakure, you’re first.”

The girl stood, her chair scraping against the floor, and followed him out. The door shut behind them. Immediately, the tension broke and people huddled together in little groups, whispering guesses about what Aizawa might ask.

Izuku stayed put, tapping his pencil against his notebook. Katsuki leaned back and tugged his headphones on, something Izuku hadn’t seen him do in weeks.

“Hey.”

He looked up as Uraraka dragged a chair over and sat beside his desk, elbows braced on the surface like she was preparing for a heart-to-heart.

“Hey,” Izuku echoed.

“Are you scared?” she asked.

Izuku’s gaze drifted out the window. “A little. I haven’t really… thought much about my future.”

“Oh yeah,” she teased, a sly grin tugging at her mouth. “Your little friend from art distracts you too much.”

His head snapped back, glare sharp. She just laughed. “Kidding, kidding! But seriously, don’t stress. With your grades, you’ll get into wherever you want.”

“I haven’t actually started writing any applications…”

Her jaw dropped. “What?!” The shout made a few kids turn, including Katsuki, who shot them a look that could cut glass.

“I have teacher recommendations, but… that’s it,” Izuku admitted.

“Oh my god.” She slumped back, staring at him like he’d grown a second head. “Deku, you have two weeks left.”

Aizawa reappeared with Hagakure, who clutched a sheet of paper and slid back into her seat looking rattled. “Koji Koda,” he called next. The boy rose quietly and followed him out.

Izuku caught Uraraka’s worried look, then the paper Hagakure had brought back. Even from here, he could see the bold rows of boxes and writing. His stomach twisted.

“Okay, okay,” he muttered, mostly to calm her down. “I’ll start today.”

“You’d better,” she sighed.

“How are you doing with applications, then?” he asked.

“I’ve applied to three,” she said, suddenly brightening. “And I’m working on two more for this program I really want.”

His curiosity softened some of the anxiety. “Which ones?”

“Engineering,” she replied with confidence. “I can help my dad, make good money, and it’s useful.”

Izuku smiled at her determination, but the knot in his chest only pulled tighter. Everyone else seemed to know where they were headed. He was still staring at a blank road.

More students cycled in and out. Each one returned clutching the same paper, names, majors, college suggestions. Some looked relieved. Some didn’t.

When Uraraka’s turn came, she walked back in looking confident, as if the whole thing had just confirmed what she already knew. Izuku was glad for her.

“Can I look?” he asked, nodding at the sheet she carried.

She handed it over. The chart was simple but heavy with implication, college choices, potential majors, neat little boxes that were supposed to decide a whole future.

He swallowed and passed it back.

Moments later, Aizawa called, “Katsuki Bakugo.”

Katsuki didn’t even flinch. He slid his headphones down around his neck, stood, and stomped out with his usual heavy steps.

Uraraka leaned close again. “Do you know what he’s gonna do after high school?”

Izuku blinked, caught off guard. “Hm? No. We haven’t really… talked about that.”

“Well, I heard he’s being scouted by universities for volleyball,” she whispered.

Izuku froze. Scouted?

He remembered seeing Katsuki’s name on the school’s site last year, plastered over every winning game. Captain, varsity, MVP, things Izuku had noticed but never thought too deeply about. But if it was true… then Katsuki’s world was already opening wide, while his own felt like it was closing in.

For the first time, the idea struck him like a blow. After this year, Katsuki could be gone. Off to a university, a different life. They might never cross paths again.

His chest tightened. He hated the thought of it, even though he couldn’t explain why he hated it.

The door opened again, and Katsuki walked back in. As he passed Izuku’s desk, his sharp eyes flicked down, catching green before darting away like nothing had happened. He dropped into his seat, yanking his paper closer before Izuku could even think about sneaking a look.

“Izuku Midoriya.”

Aizawa’s voice pulled him up short. His pulse jumped. He rose, legs a little shaky, and followed him out into the hallway. The air felt warmer here. Quieter.

“Okay,” Aizawa started, tone softer than usual. “I know your grades are excellent. That’s not the issue.”

Izuku finally let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“But I haven’t seen you submit any applications yet. Why is that?”

Izuku fumbled. “I… I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about what I want to do with my life yet.”

Aizawa didn’t interrupt. He just watched, listening. That was somehow worse.

“I’ve worked hard to keep my grades up,” Izuku continued, words spilling before he could stop them. “But now that it matters, I can’t picture myself in any career. I don’t know where I fit.”

Half of it was true. The other half, the ache of a future where he and that certain someone might drift apart forever, remained buried.

“I understand,” Aizawa said evenly. “And I won’t push you into something you’re not ready for. But I do have a suggestion.”

He scribbled on Izuku’s paper, then handed it back.

“I think you’d make a strong teacher. Or a therapist.”

Izuku blinked at him. “Teacher? Therapist?”

“You’re thoughtful. You analyze texts in ways most students don’t. You’re good at noticing things beneath the surface. That could translate well to working with people. And you’re naturally strong in multiple subjects, so you could teach.”

Izuku glanced down. Written neatly were two career suggestions, alongside two recommended schools: NYU. Columbia.

His chest tightened again, but this time it wasn’t just nerves. Maybe it was possibility.

“Thank you, Mr. Aizawa,” he said quietly.

“Talk to me whenever you’re ready to decide,” Aizawa replied, pushing the door open.

They walked back in together just as the bell rang. The room erupted into motion. Uraraka mouthed, How’d it go? but the shuffle of bags and chatter drowned out any chance to answer. Katsuki snapped his paper off his desk the moment Izuku tried to sneak a glance, shouldering past him without a word.

Izuku clutched his own page tighter, the weight of it lingering in his hands.

He didn’t bring up the question of college or the future in art. Akio’s presence in that class made his worries fade too easily.

But in PE, the subject found its way back. Their teacher was absent, the substitute too nervous to let students run loose in the gym, so the class ended up scattered on the bleachers. Todoroki sat a row down from Izuku and Akio, his voice steady as always when he spoke.

“Midoriya. How did it go with Aizawa this morning?”

Izuku perked up, caught off guard. “Oh, it went okay. He just recommended some careers and colleges since I’m still not sure what I want to do.”

Akio glanced at him briefly, listening, but didn’t cut in.

“Same here,” Todoroki admitted. “I’ve been applying to whatever major my father suggests. But I don’t actually want to follow his path. I’d rather do something else.”

Akio tilted his head. “What schools have you looked at?”

“So far only in-state, because of my dad’s connections. But honestly, I want out. Somewhere farther, maybe even abroad. UW has a beautiful campus.”

Akio chuckled. “It does. I’d go there just for the views.”

Todoroki’s expression softened. “I’ve been leaning toward political science. Maybe law. Something where I can make things right.”

“You’d be amazing at that,” Izuku said without hesitation. “Honestly, you and Iida would probably end up in the same schools.”

Todoroki smiled faintly. Then his gaze shifted. “What about you, Akio?”

Akio leaned back, resting his elbows on the step above, casual but thoughtful. “I’ve applied to a few places, but…I don’t really know yet.”

Izuku seized the chance. “What do you want to do in the future?”

For a moment, Akio just looked at him, green eyes meeting his with something unspoken. Then he laughed under his breath. “I’m not sure either. Basketball got me attention at my old school, some scouts even reached out to my coach. But I doubt it’ll go anywhere. Music’s my other love, but, well…you can’t exactly pay bills with that.”

Izuku felt the truth of it sink in. What your heart wanted didn’t always match the life you were handed. No matter how much you loved something, money was always there, waiting to tip the scale. Passion or survival. Only a lucky few managed both.

Then the word hit him. Scouted. Again.

“Wait, Akio, you’re being scouted too?!”

Akio shrugged, half-grinning. “Kind of. It’s not official. Some schools send letters, sometimes coaches show up at games. They’ll invite you for visits. Stuff like that. My coach used to say I had options if I kept playing.”

“Nice,” Todoroki said simply.

“Thanks,” Akio smiled.

Izuku, though, couldn’t stop his mind from spiraling. Was all this happening for Katsuki too? Were coaches showing up at his previous games, writing him letters, already picturing his future when Izuku couldn’t even see his own?

It seemed like everyone else had at least a path. Todoroki resisting his father’s. Akio balancing sports with music. Even his classmates rattled off majors like it was nothing. Medicine, engineering, art school. Meanwhile, Izuku hadn’t even sat down with his mom to talk about applications. He probably should soon. Someone needed to help guide him.

Still, he managed to say, “Congrats, Akio.”

That easy smile spread across Akio’s face, the one that always seemed to linger when Izuku was around. The subject shifted after that. Akio pulled a deck of cards from his backpack and roped the boys into a round of spoons. The minutes dragged when they weren’t running laps, but Izuku’s mind stayed elsewhere.

College essays. Personal statements. Scholarships. The future.

God, high school really did pass in the blink of an eye.

That night, Izuku sat at his desk with his laptop open, blank documents glaring back at him. From Aizawa’s recommendations, NYU and Columbia stood out. Their personal statements weren’t complicated, but he knew if his answers weren’t interesting enough, his essay would be skimmed and forgotten.

NYU’s prompt, though, felt like it was written for him:

“Some students have a background, identity, interest, or talent that is so meaningful they believe their application would be incomplete without it. If this sounds like you, then please share your story.”

Izuku already knew what was meaningful to him. He reached for his two notebooks: the battered film journal and the music one. Both were crammed with bold titles, scribbled band facts, movie trivia, album ratings, and half-legible song lyrics. They were proof of how much he cared about the things he loved.

Finally, words began to spill into the blank document. He filled in what he could, the easy things like test scores and AP classes, the details that didn’t require soul-searching. Columbia, he decided, could wait until tomorrow.

Later that night, when his mom came home, Izuku lingered at the kitchen table while she ate dinner. His hands twisted together as he confessed, “I’m  still not sure what I want to do. But I started my essays tonight.”

“Oh, honey,” Inko said softly. “You’re not expected to have your whole life figured out already. If you need me for anything—applications, forms, anything at all—just tell me. Even call me if I’m at work.”

Relief spread through him at her words. She was right. Who in their right mind expected teenagers to map out their entire futures the second they graduated high school? Still, Izuku needed something to chase, or else he’d feel completely lost.

The next day at lunch, he told Uraraka about applying to NYU. Her excitement for him helped ease some of the fear.

When he got home, he opened Columbia’s application and went back to his NYU essay, adding more lines, deleting others. The words came haltingly at first. How were you supposed to squeeze 17 years into a thousand words?

Eventually, he just typed. About his mom. About Northvale. About the tiny details that had shaped him without him realizing. None of it felt polished, but it felt like him.

Days later, after rereading every sentence until his eyes blurred, Izuku pressed submit on his first applications. Along with NYU and Columbia, he sent off essays to Princeton, Montclair, Penn State, St. John’s, any East Coast school with programs strong in psychology or education.

The moment the screen confirmed submission, relief crashed into him, like air rushing out of his chest. No more deadlines. No more blinking cursors. But as the confirmation emails began to trickle into his inbox, complete with student portal log-ins and “application received” subject lines, a new kind of weight settled in.

He wasn’t stressed anymore. He was scared. Scared of where life would take him. Scared of March and April, when all the waiting would finally end.

“Check your spam folder too, just in case,” Inko reminded, peering over his shoulder one evening. When every email was accounted for, she wrapped him in a hug.

“Well,” she murmured against his hair, “now we wait.”

***

The last week of October finally let Izuku breathe. Deadlines were still chasing some of his classmates, but for once, he felt free enough to enjoy himself. Northvale High celebrated with a Halloween spirit week: Monday Madness, Tuesday Twin Day, Wacky Wednesday, Throwback Thursday, and Friday, the big one, costumes allowed in class.

Uraraka, Iida, and Todoroki had already planned to go trick-or-treating around Northvale. They invited Izuku along, and after clearing it with his mom, he agreed. Their plan for costumes was thrown together at the last minute. No cohesive theme, just whatever they could manage.

When Friday arrived, though, most students settled on simple costumes like cat ears, devil horns, dollar-store masks. Anything bigger was either too distracting for class or too embarrassing to show off.

Walking to school with Katsuki that morning, Izuku noticed the blonde wasn’t dressed up at all, of course. A little pang tugged at him. They used to dress up together when they were kids. Some part of Izuku, small and stubborn, had hoped the boy remembered those times too.

Uraraka floated into class in a white dress, halo, and delicate makeup like a perfect little angel. Mina spent the morning pestering Momo to reveal her costume, but Momo only promised she’d post pictures later that night, sending Mina into squeals of anticipation.

As Izuku and Katsuki took their seats, Kirishima jogged over.

“Bakubro, don’t forget we’re not staying after school today, okay?”

“Okay,” Katsuki replied flatly.

Izuku didn’t expect Kirishima to turn to him.

“Hey, Midoriya!”

“Hi, Kirishima.”

“Any plans tonight?”

“I’m going out with Uraraka, Iida, and Todoroki,” Izuku said. “What about you?”

“Oh, nice! I wanted to get Mina and the others to go trick-or-treating in New York, but nobody’s up for it. Too crowded, they said.”

Izuku winced at the memory of his one New York Halloween with his mom. It was fun, but chaotic. He nearly got lost five times and saw more “adult costumes” than he ever wanted burned into his brain.

“Well, have fun!” Kirishima waved as the bell rang.

Despite the holiday, teachers still pushed through lessons and homework. By the time art rolled around, Izuku was buzzing with anticipation. He hadn’t asked Akio what his Halloween plans were, so he hurried to class, hoping he’d find out.

But Akio never came.

Izuku sat, waiting. The bell rang, the seats filled, and still no sign of him. When Mr. Yamada took attendance, he casually marked Akio absent.

Izuku’s stomach sank. No text. No explanation. His mind raced with worst-case scenarios before he shook himself. He could text later. For now, all he could do was put in his headphones, paint a blue sky, and let the soundtrack of Call Me By Your Name spill through his ears before switching to Current Joys, Cage the Elephant, and Beach House. Beautiful songs, but not the same warmth Akio’s piano brought.

By lunch, he sat with Uraraka and the others. They decided to meet at Izuku’s house later since he lived on the edge of the town. Costumes would be thrown together before then.

When the final bell rang, students streamed out, buzzing with excitement. Izuku didn’t even look for Katsuki. He knew there was no practice tonight, but asking him to walk home together felt like too much. By the time Izuku left the gym, Katsuki was already gone.

Whatever. He had bigger things to worry about. Like his costume.

Rummaging through his closet, he found one from freshman year: a Space Jam jersey and bunny ears. His mom had insisted on buying it from Spirit Halloween, but he’d been too embarrassed to ever wear it. Tonight, though? Last year to trick-or-treat. Screw it.

When Inko came home at six, she nearly cried seeing her son sitting on the couch in grey bunny ears and a jersey.

“Oh, my baby!” she squealed, dropping her purse on the table.

“Mom…” Izuku groaned.

“You look adorable!” She fussed over his hair while he turned red.

“Well, Uraraka said I should dress up,” he mumbled.

“You won’t be too cold? It’s supposed to hit the 60s tonight.”

He looked down at his white T-shirt, Space Jam basketball jersey, jean shorts, and Converse. “I’ll be fine.”

“Mm-hm.” She clearly didn’t believe him but let it go.

Within a few minutes, the doorbell rang. Izuku walked up the door and saw his 3 friends all dressed up, smiles on their faces like they were kids waiting for him.

“Trick or treat!” they chorused.

Uraraka spotted Inko in the kitchen. “Hi, Ms. Midoriya!”

“Hello, Uraraka,” Inko greeted warmly, then looked up at Todoroki and Iida. “And hello to you two!”

“Good evening, Ms. Midoriya,” Todoroki said politely.

“Hi, Ms. Midoriya!” Iida said, bowing deeply. “Thank you for letting Izuku go out with us!”

“Oh, of course. He deserves to have fun. You’re just going around town, right?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Uraraka replied. “We’ll walk fast and be back before it gets too late.”

Izuku darted over to the couch, snatched his phone and his little orange pumpkin basket, then hurried back to the door.

“Okay,” Inko said, holding it open for him and his friends. “Izuku, be careful out there, all of you.”

Izuku leaned down to kiss her cheek, and Inko hugged him tight.

“Bye, Mom. I’ll text you if anything happens.”

“Have fun!” she called as he stepped out into the night.

“Alright, so I’ve got a route planned,” Uraraka said, pulling up a map on her phone.

Iida stepped in beside her, comparing roads on his own screen. Izuku noticed then, the boy was dressed as Frankenstein. The costume suited him better than expected. He hid a grin and glanced toward Todoroki.

Red outfit, scar on his eye. He looked like…Zuko? It had to be. All he was missing was black hair. Izuku snorted before he could stop himself.

“I know,” Todoroki said flatly, catching the look. “I didn’t know what else to wear.”

The two boys giggled.

“Okay!” Uraraka interrupted, animated again. “We’ll loop around this way, then hit the ave if possible. If we keep up, we’ll finish the block before candy runs out.”

Iida and Todoroki started ahead, their phones lighting the street. Uraraka lingered, falling into step beside Izuku.

For no real reason, Izuku’s eyes slid to the house across the street. Katsuki’s driveway was empty. The red car wasn’t there. Where had he gone? Izuku shoved the thought down. Not his business.

“Izuku,” Uraraka said quietly, leaning toward him so the others wouldn’t hear. “Your mom is so sweet. Also… she winked at me when you walked away.”

Izuku froze. “She what?!”

Uraraka laughed. “Relax. I just think she still ships us.”

He groaned. “Sorry. I’ll… I’ll talk to her.”

“It’s fine. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t know that you’re…?” she trailed gently.

Izuku’s chest tightened. He’d been so busy with school, friends, and Akio that he’d forgotten that eventually, he’d have to tell his mom the truth. He wasn’t ashamed. Just terrified. Terrified of losing the one person who had always been his safe space.

“Yeah. She doesn’t know,” he admitted.

Uraraka’s expression softened, but she didn’t push. She understood.

“Anyway,” she said, letting him breathe, “Toga’s at a party with her school friends tonight. I didn’t feel like being in a crowd of strangers, so… thanks for coming with us.”

“Of course,” Izuku said, smiling faintly.

Before he could say more, his phone buzzed. A text.

[Akio]:

Hey, sorry I missed school today.

Attached was a picture. It was Akio in a vampire costume, eyeliner smudged just right, arm around his little brother, who beamed in a Snoopy outfit.

Uraraka peeked. “Oh wow, he looks so cute! And oh my gosh, is that his little brother?!”

“Ochako!” Izuku hissed, face burning.

Izuku shook his head hard, nearly tripping on a crack in the sidewalk. No. Nope. He was not going there.

He thumbed back to the text and forced himself to type:

AWWWW you guys look adorable!

Moments later, another buzz.

[Akio]:

Only one of us is more adorable

So who is it, Izuku?

Izuku nearly choked on his own breath.

“You okay?” Todoroki asked, patting his back.

“Y-yeah,” Izuku wheezed.

He typed quickly:

Your brother since he’s not the one asking that question

[Akio]:

Actually, he told me to ask you that

Kinda sad you didn’t pick me

Lol jk, have fun tonight!

The more he stared at the photo, the more he looked at Akio. He was so handsome but this boy radiates a warm feeling that was worth more than his looks. He looked up his phone and saw Uraraka making the two boys laugh at something.

He looked back down at Akio’s picture. That warm feeling and wanting to be near a person. It was coming to Izuku. That feeling he once felt for a familiar girl.

Izuku shoved his phone away, heart racing. He wasn’t sure how much more of Akio he could take without combusting.

The first house that actually opened up for them was a young couple with a plastic purple cauldron brimming with candy.

Uraraka rang the doorbell, and the group chorused, “Trick or treat!”

“Oh my!” the woman said, grinning. “You guys are adorable! Here you go.” She dropped two pieces into each basket.

Izuku glanced down, KitKat and a box of Nerds. His mouth watered for the KitKat immediately as they clattered down the steps.

House after house, their baskets slowly filled. The night blurred into candy exchanges, bursts of laughter, and run-ins with classmates. At one point, Izuku pulled out his phone and suggested they walk with music. Soon “Psycho Killer” by Talking Heads was blasting from his phone, and the four of them stomped down the sidewalk in rhythm, laughing and singing at the top of their lungs. For a few precious minutes, they weren’t stressed-out seniors with college apps and tangled feelings, they were just kids again.

At another house, Izuku ended up with a Milky Way. He didn’t even like it, but still thanked the couple.

“Izuku,” Todoroki said suddenly, holding out a red wrapper. “Do you want my KitKat?”

“Huh? Wait, are you sure?” Izuku blinked.

“Yeah. Plus…” Todoroki pointed to the Milky Way in Izuku’s hand. “I kinda want that one more.”

“Oh, then yes! Here.” They swapped candy.

The rest of the night carried on like that: doorsteps lit with the occasional jack-o’-lantern, rare decorated houses to admire, the flash of kids darting past in costumes, chasing candy like they all once used to. They even ran into classmates, Tsu, Ojiro, Koda, Tokoyami, faces bright in the streetlight before disappearing again into the flow of Halloween.

But as the hours slipped by and the streets darkened, one by one, they dropped each friend off. Iida first, then Todoroki.

Eventually, it was just Izuku and Uraraka walking side by side. Something tugged at him then, a question he hadn’t asked. “Can I… ask you something?” he said quietly.

“Of course.”

“Have you… come out to your parents?”

“Yeah. They’ve already met Toga.” Her smile was soft. “They kind of knew already.”

Izuku raised a brow, surprised.

“They said they didn’t mind as long as I’m happy and loved. Honestly, they suspected because Toga was all I ever talked about, so… they figured something was happening.”

Izuku swallowed. “That’s amazing.” That’s what parents should be. They should be supportive, steady, loving. And although he didn’t know exactly what Akio faced at home, he knew that boy deserved the same.

She tilted her head. “Are you worried about your mom? Because of what I said earlier?”

“Hm?” He lied quickly. “No, don’t worry. It just… slipped my mind that I’ll have to tell her one day.”

“Ah. Yeah, that day will come. If you ever need my help, let me know, okay?”

He nodded, thanking her as she waved goodbye and stepped toward her house.

Izuku tried to smile, but it wavered. Inside, his stomach twisted. He knew, logically, his mom wouldn’t reject him. But what if she looked at him differently? What if the person who had always been proud of him suddenly… wasn’t?

The fear was worse than any ghost or monster roaming the streets that night.

Maybe he’d been careless. Maybe he’d let himself feel too okay with all of this.

He kept imagining how Inko might take it. All the possible situations. Then he imagined telling her to stop shipping him with Uraraka, and his stomach lurched harder. He debated texting Akio again, but his heart spiked with panic, so he shoved the thought away.

At his doorway, his eyes landed on a familiar red car parked in the Bakugos’ driveway, bright even under the warm streetlights. Katsuki was home. Where had he been all night? Did the blonde go somewhere fun? With Kirishima? Who cares. Not Izuku, he told himself, shoving the thought away. Not his business.

Inside, Inko immediately wanted to dive into the candy haul. Izuku showed her pictures, laughed about blasting music in the streets, until she gave him a half-serious lecture about it.

He collapsed on the couch, exhausted, phone still in hand.

“Oh, honey,” Inko called suddenly from the stairs. “Mitsuki called earlier. She invited us for Thanksgiving. She wanted to let us know now in case we made other plans.”

Izuku froze. His phone screen blurred in front of him.

Thanksgiving. At the Bakugos’. An entire day in Katsuki’s house.

And just like that, reality was at his door.

Oh crap.

Chapter Text

The only sounds Izuku could hear were his mother’s footsteps going upstairs and the pounding of his own heart that had been perfectly fine a few seconds ago. 

A whole holiday in the Bakugos’ house? Forget that. With Katsuki? 

Izuku shot upright. 

“Mom, wait—” His legs were already moving before he could think, leaving his phone abandoned on the couch. 

The hallway was dim, lit only by the glow spilling from his mother’s room at the very end. He passed his own door, the bathroom, and then froze in her doorway. 

She was standing at her closet, sliding hangers across the pole, her work clothes lined up with practiced neatness. 

“How—I—” Izuku’s throat tightened. “When did Mitsuki ask you this? Earlier today? Like in the morning or when I was out trick-or-treating?” 

Inko didn’t look over, just kept fussing with a blouse. “Yeah, Mitsuki called me about two hours ago,” she said easily. “Isn’t it so nice we’ll get to spend time with her family again?” 

Only then did she turn, catching her son’s wide, desperate eyes. 

“What’s wrong? Why do you look so… troubled by this?” 

She crossed the room, placing her phone on the nightstand before sitting at the edge of her bed. 

Izuku’s grip on the doorframe whitened his knuckles. “I—I just… it’s Thanksgiving, Mom. Why do we have to—” He cut himself off, heat rising to his ears. Why do we have to go spend a whole day with Kacchan like it’s normal? 

Inko tilted her head. “Izuku, you and Katsuki were inseparable as kids. It’ll be good for you to spend time together again. Don’t you miss that?” 

He wanted to say yes. He wanted to say no. He wanted to say do you even realize how awkward that would be? Instead, all that came out was a weak, “I just didn’t expect it.” 

“You’ll be fine,” she reassured, her smile warm in that way that always made him feel like a child again, like she thought he was being dramatic. “Besides, Mitsuki sounded so excited. We haven’t spent enough time with them, so it’d be nice to spend Thanksgiving with them.” 

Izuku nodded, though his chest felt tight. Fine. Totally fine. A whole holiday in the Bakugos’ house. Sitting in the same table as Katsuki, pretending they weren’t carrying heavy tension with each other on the walk to school every day. 

No problem. 

Except it was just enough to crumble Izuku’s world. 

Izuku dropped the subject afterwards, quickly realizing his mother won’t understand him because she doesn’t know their past.  

What made the weeks leading up to Thanksgiving unbearable wasn’t the waiting itself, it was the silence. The unspoken fact that he and Katsuki would be stuck together the entire holiday sat heavy between them, and yet neither of them said a word. Their walks stayed filled with the same small talk as always. Weather, classes, the kind of meaningless chatter that felt safer than the things Izuku actually wanted to ask. 

He tried a few times. The urge would rise like a tickle in his throat. Just say it, ask him, break the silence. But every time, the words died before they left his mouth. 

By Monday, the post-Halloween buzz had faded, and all anyone could talk about was the short countdown to Thanksgiving break. Everyone except Izuku and Katsuki. Classes felt the same, heavy with homework, but the promise of days off gave most people a reason to drag themselves through. 

With Katsuki, Izuku felt like his words were trapped in cement, too heavy to push past his lips. But with Akio in art class, words came like rushing water, easy and natural. 

That morning in art, Izuku spotted Akio pulling a small bag from his backpack as he slid into his seat. 

“Hey,” Izuku said, tugging his chair out and dropping his bag to the floor. 

“Hi,” Akio answered right away, bright as always. “So, how was your Halloween?” 

Izuku let himself breathe for a second, trying to shake off the gnawing panic still stuck to his ribs. “It was great! I went out with Uraraka, Iida, and Todoroki. We did trick-or-treating around Northvale.” 

Akio’s eyes softened as he listened, that warm smile tugging at his face. “I’m glad. From the very handsome picture I sent you,” Izuku laughed under his breath, “my brother and I had a lot of fun, too.” 

“Where’d you guys go?” 

Akio placed the bag carefully on the desk, his fingers curling around it. “Riverside. That little park overlooking New York? The view was insane.” 

Izuku leaned back, recognizing it instantly. “Yeah. Especially at night! The city lights look like stars. They might be our rival school, but their town definitely has the better view.” 

“Yeah…” Akio said softly, before nudging the bag toward him. “By the way—here.” 

It was bright orange, a jack-o’-lantern printed across the front, and heavy enough to make Izuku blink. “For me?” 

Akio nodded. “My brother doesn’t need to eat that much candy at his age,” he joked lightly, glancing at the bag before lifting his gaze to Izuku again. “So I thought you should have some.” 

Izuku’s fingers curled around the sides of the bag, heat crawling up his neck. “Th-thank you, Akio.” His voice came out weaker than he meant, shyness written all over his face. 

He began to rummage through the bag, unwrapping the tissue paper inside until his fingers hit something familiar. “Oh my god,” he gasped, pulling out a small red chocolate bar. “It’s a Kit-Kat!” 

“You like them?” Akio asked, smiling softly while sorting through his own paints. 

“They’re my favorite,” Izuku replied, setting the candy gently back inside. His brush soon moved over his canvas again, though his thoughts were far from the assignment. Across from him, Akio worked quietly, and even without looking up, Izuku could sense the faint curve of a smile on his face. 

Minutes passed like that, quiet, easy, the kind of silence Izuku didn’t mind. 

Then, Akio spoke up. “Izuku,” he said suddenly. The boy beside him looked up immediately. “I have a book suggestion I think you’d like.” 

Izuku blinked, brush still in his hand. “Which one is it?” 

Akio reached into his pocket for his phone, thumb typing quickly before turning the screen toward him. At the top was a Google search for The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller. The cover was a soft cyan blue with a gold helmet that shined brightly. 

Green eyes scanned it curiously. “It looks pretty. What’s it about?” 

Akio pocketed the phone again, picking up his brush. “Well… do you know much about Greek mythology?” 

Izuku shook his head. 

“Okay,” Akio began, his voice calm, careful. “It’s about a mortal boy named Patroclus who becomes close to the demi-god Achilles. They train together, grow up together, and… become very important to each other. But when the Trojan War starts, everything changes.” He paused, dipping his brush into a pale color. “It’s devastating, but so beautiful. I think you’d love it.” 

Izuku smiled faintly, warmth creeping up his face again. “It sounds interesting. Of course I’ll read it.” 

Even as he said it, part of him couldn’t stop thinking about why Akio thought of him, why he kept noticing the kind of things Izuku would like. He couldn’t decide if that made his heart lighter or heavier. 

“Alright then,” Akio said, a hint of a grin tugging at his mouth. “I’ll bring it for you tomorrow.” 

And just like that, the bell rang. The scrape of chairs and chatter of students filled the room as everyone rushed to pack up. Akio and Izuku cleaned up their desk together, careful with the wet paint, exchanging quick goodbyes with classmates as they walked out into the hallway side by side. The scent of paint still clung to their sleeves, the easy quiet between them stretching until they reached the cafeteria doors. 

Like usual, that’s where they split off. 

Izuku made his way toward his usual table where Uraraka spotted him almost instantly. 

“Hey, Deku,” she said, smiling in that mischievous way that always meant trouble. 

“Hi,” Izuku said, sitting down. She followed. 

For a moment, Uraraka just stared at him. Izuku could feel it. He’d been stared at his whole life. He could always tell when eyes were on him. 

“What?” he asked, confused, already fumbling for his lunch ID. 

“Yeah, something’s wrong with you,” she said suddenly, crossing her arms. 

Izuku nearly choked. “W–what are you—” 

“Just spill it. You’re quieter than usual. Normally you come in smiling because of you know who, and today you look like you’d rather disappear.” 

His mouth opened but nothing came out. Half of him was terrified at how fast she read him, the other half was just relieved to finally have someone to talk to. 

“Well,” Izuku started, “It’s just that my mom—” 

But his words trailed off the moment he saw him. 

Katsuki walked in, blond hair catching the cafeteria light, accompanied by Kirishima and Denki. He moved through the crowd easily, the tide of students shifting as he walked through with his usual quiet force. 

Then, his eyes met Izuku’s. 

It lasted barely a second, but Izuku’s heart stopped. He looked away immediately. 

“What?” Uraraka asked, brows pulling together. “What did your mom do?” 

“I—” Izuku swallowed hard. No way he was saying it here. Not with him across the room. “I’ll tell you later. I’ll be right back.” 

He stood so fast his shoes squeaked against the floor tiles. By the time he got back from the lunch line, Katsuki’s glare was gone, but his ribs ached under the weight of panic. 

“Okay, you’re definitely not okay,” Uraraka said, softer this time. “What’s going on, Deku?” 

“I promise it’s not bad,” he said quickly, forcing a small laugh. “Or… not crazy bad. It’s just something I can’t say here.” 

“Oh,” Uraraka tilted her head. “But you’re okay?” 

“Yeah. I promise.” He paused. “Can I tell you after school? Are you busy?” 

“Hmm…” Her smirk returned. “Should I make time in my very important schedule?” 

Izuku rolled his eyes as she laughed. “We could go to the Ave,” she offered. “It’s been forever.” 

The idea instantly warmed him. The Ave, the stretch of small shops, takeout places, and the little park near the end.  

“Yeah,” he said. “Let’s go.” 

They spent the rest of lunch complaining about teachers and homework, letting the conversation pull him back to something that felt safe. 

When the final bell rang, they packed up together and left the building. Katsuki had volleyball, which was a relief. The cold air of early November hit them as they stepped outside, and for a second, everything felt like it used to. Freshman-year memories of running down the Ave after school, fries in hand, laughing about everything and nothing. 

They stopped at McDonald’s, ordered fries and sodas, and sat near the window. The streets outside glowed orange under the setting sun. The air smelled faintly of salt and oil from the fryer, the sound of laughter and sneakers against pavement filtering through the glass. Familiar faces passed by, classmates heading home, friends from other grades waving as they walked. 

It felt like the kind of evening you’d want to bottle up and keep forever. 

That was when Izuku finally started to talk. 

Everything that had been piling up in his chest came out. The Thanksgiving plans, the fact that he’d have to spend an entire day at Katsuki’s house, how he hadn’t brought it up once because he didn’t know if Katsuki even knew. How terrified he was that something might go wrong, that the tension would spill out and ruin everything again. 

Uraraka listened quietly, nodding between bites of fries and sips of soda. When he finally ran out of words, she smiled gently. 

“If he hated you, he would’ve shown it by now,” she said simply. “You guys walk together every day, right? You’d know.” 

Izuku blinked, the thought hitting him harder than it should’ve. 

She was right. If Katsuki really hated him, he would’ve made it clear. He had shown it once in the past.  

“You’ll survive,” she said, half teasing. “Maybe it won’t be as bad as you think.” 

Izuku wanted to believe that. God, he did. But as he stirred the melting ice in his cup, that brief eye contact in the cafeteria still replayed in his mind, sharp and unreadable, like everything Katsuki had always been. 

The sun had dipped by the time they left the restaurant. Streetlights buzzed to life one by one, and the Ave glowed faintly gold in the cold air. 

They walked home side by side, their laughter mixing with the sounds of the town around them, a small place that always felt too quiet once the day ended. 

The next day at school, Akio did bring Izuku the book he recommended. Izuku was excited the moment it landed in his hands, dying to get home and open its pages, ready to escape his own life for a while. 

It was about four hundred pages, but every sentence made him wonder how anyone could ever hate reading or writing. He got halfway through that same day, completely pulled into its world. He told Akio how much he loved it so far, how Patroclus reminded him of himself, and how he loved the way their relationship felt both youthful and devoted. He ended up researching their myth later that night, surprised by how interesting Greek mythology could be. 

Akio had smiled as Izuku rambled about the story in art class, listening with the same spark in his eyes that Izuku had when he talked. 

But between his honors classes and the growing pile of homework, finishing the book became impossible and it drove him crazy. 

“I might just go insane if I can’t finish it,” he’d complain to Akio, who’d only laugh and threaten him with fake spoilers. 

When Izuku finally reached the end, the tears wouldn’t stop. It hit him harder than anything he’d ever read before. He immediately searched for movie adaptations, desperate to see the story come alive, but there were none. So, he texted Akio instead. 

[Izuku]: 

Akio, you knew there’s no movie to go along with it?! 

You’re evil for that 

I finished the book and it destroyed me 

Akio replied instantly, finally sharing in the heartbreak. They ended up talking for hours, about the lines that shattered them, the scenes that healed them. It felt like they were speaking their own language. Akio comforted Izuku as he mourned the ending, and somehow, it made Izuku feel seen. Special. Like Akio understood him in a way no one else did. 

The next morning, Izuku needed to talk about it again. He nearly blurted something to Katsuki during their walk to school, but the story’s themes made him hesitate. He wasn’t sure what Katsuki would think, so he kept quiet and waited, through every class, until art. 

When Akio walked in, they picked up the conversation like it had never ended. 

“Akio, thank you so much for telling me about the book,” Izuku said, digging through his bag for it. “Here you go.” He handed it back, even though it felt like giving away a piece of his heart. 

“I’m so glad you liked it,” Akio said, his brown eyes searching Izuku’s in that familiar, steady way. “So,” he added, a small smile tugging at his lips, “now that you’ve read it… how do you feel about Greek mythology?” 

There was something in his tone, a quiet confidence, almost like he already knew what Izuku would say. 

“I can definitely say the book sparked a new passion to learn more about it,” Izuku admitted. 

“So then, would you like me to teach you some more Greek myths?” Akio’s smile lit something small and helpless in Izuku, the kind of sincere warmth that made it impossible to say no. 

“Of course you can teach me!” Izuku said almost immediately, his voice louder than the rest of the class. 

And just like that, Akio became a master storyteller, sharing myth after myth like he’d lived them himself. 

“So, one that I remember,” Akio began, “is the story of Orpheus and Eurydice.” The boys kept painting, only slower now. One focused on the story, the other listening like every word mattered. 

“Okay, so Orpheus is this legendary musician, like, his music was so beautiful it literally charmed animals, trees, and even the gods. He marries this woman, Eurydice, and they’re super in love. But then, right after the wedding, she gets bitten by a snake and dies.” 

Izuku’s eyes widened at the sudden tragedy. 

“Orpheus is heartbroken. He refuses to accept it. So, he literally travels to the Underworld to bring her back. When he gets there, he plays for Hades and Persephone, and they love it so much they actually agree to let Eurydice go. But on one condition: he has to walk in front of her and he can’t look back until they’re both out.” 

Akio’s voice was steady, woven deep with quiet knowledge, and Izuku liked that about him, maybe more than he meant to. 

“Orpheus almost makes it, but right at the last second, just before they reach the surface, he panics. He turns around and she disappears forever. Gone. And there’s nothing he can do.” 

Akio fell quiet after finishing. 

“That’s it?!” Izuku asked, half-offended. 

“Yup,” Akio nodded. 

“Why is every Greek love story tragic?” Izuku groaned. He was still emotionally recovering from Achilles and Patroclus, and now this? 

“I wish I knew,” Akio laughed, “but they make for good stories, to be honest.” He glanced at Izuku, who was mixing colors on his palette, adjusting his canvas with careful hands. The sight made Akio smile without thinking. Something about Izuku being soft and focused in art class just got to him. 

“Want me to tell you more?” he asked. 

“Sure,” Izuku replied, not even looking up. 

Akio leaned in slightly, ready to begin. “So remember Apollo? Yeah, sun god, music god, golden boy of Olympus? Well, he actually fell hard for this mortal guy named Hyacinthus. Young, athletic, basically stunning. And it’s very clear this was more than friendship. Like, Apollo was in love.” 

He continued, “They spent all their time together, playing sports, hanging out, probably flirting like crazy.” 

That got a small chuckle out of Izuku. 

“But here’s where it gets messy: there’s this other god, Zephyrus, the west wind, who’s also into Hyacinthus. And unlike Apollo, Zephyrus is not handling rejection well.” 

“Oh?” Izuku said, genuinely curious. Akio smiled at the sound. 

“One day, Apollo and Hyacinthus are playing discus. Apollo throws it, but then, bam, it hits Hyacinthus in the head and kills him. Official story says it was an accident but it’s heavily implied Zephyrus redirected it out of jealousy.” 

Izuku stopped painting, eyes wide as he looked at Akio. “That’s messed up.” 

“Yeah. Apollo’s devastated. He tries to save Hyacinthus, but he can’t. So, he turns Hyacinthus’s blood into a flower, the hyacinth, so that he’ll always be remembered.” 

“That’s actually super romantic, though,” Izuku admitted. “Apollo made me mad in the book, but here he’s so in love.” 

“Exactly,” Akio said. “Greek gods, they’re divine, yeah, but they still feel things like humans. They make selfish decisions, get jealous, fall in love, screw up… It makes them more real, honestly.” 

Izuku listened like it was the only thing he wanted to listen to, admiring the way Akio lit up when he talked about it. 

“Sorry,” Akio said suddenly, a little shy. “I just really love Greek myths and reading about them.” 

“Don’t worry about it. I like hearing you talk,” Izuku said without thinking. 

As the words left his lips, he froze. Heat flooded his face. 

“I-I mean—” he stammered, eyes darting to Akio, suddenly desperate to read his reaction. 

But Akio just offered his usual smile and focused back on his painting. Still, Izuku caught it, the softest pink coloring his cheeks. 

Quick to cover his embarrassment, Izuku blurted, “So, um—what even is the beginning of Greek myths? Like, how did this whole system of gods even start?” 

Akio chuckled quietly, sensing both Izuku’s interest and the fluster behind it. Despite feeling the same warmth bloom under his own skin, he went along like nothing had happened. 

“Well,” he began, rinsing his brush and setting it aside, “Greek myths started as oral traditions, stories and songs passed down generations to explain the world before science existed. People needed reasons for everything, like the weather, the seasons, even why people fell in love or died. So they told stories to make sense of it all.” 

Izuku leaned in a little without realizing it. 

“Eventually,” Akio continued, “those stories grew into something bigger. They became religion. The Greeks built temples, made sacrifices, and held festivals to honor the gods they believed ruled every part of life. Later on, poets like Homer wrote them down, which is how we even know them now.” 

Izuku’s brush stopped midair. “That’s kind of amazing that they made meaning out of everything.” 

“Exactly,” Akio said, smiling again, softer this time.  

The bell rang before Izuku could say anything else. Students began to stand, scraping chairs and packing away paints. 

Izuku hesitated, reluctant to let the conversation end. “Wait, could you tell me more later?” 

Akio froze mid-motion, glancing up with a hint of nervous laughter. “Oh, but we don’t, um… sit together at lunch, you know?” 

Izuku blinked, then quickly said, “Oh! Well, you can sit with me today.” 

For a second, Akio looked like he didn’t know what to say. But then his lips curved into a quiet grin. “Sure,” he said, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “I’d like that.” 

And so they walked together out of the art room, like they usually did. Like they had since the first day of school. Except the hallway felt narrower now. This would be the first time the two boys actually had lunch together. 

That fluttery feeling returned to Izuku, the kind that had been sneaking up on him for a while now. The kind that seemed to follow him whenever Akio was around. Could it mean something?  

They talked like normal on the way to the cafeteria. Akio nervously asked if Izuku’s friends wouldn’t mind him sitting at their table, to which Izuku quickly said no. 

As they entered the cafeteria, they blended into the flood of students. Izuku pointed toward his usual table, weaving through the crowd as Akio followed closely behind. Izuku set his bag down at his unassigned assigned seat. 

“Are you getting lunch?” Izuku asked. 

“Uh,” Akio glanced at the long line before replying, “yeah, but don’t worry about it right now. I’ll go later.” He sat down on the seat to Izuku’s left. 

“Okay—whenever you wanna go, I’ll go with you,” Izuku said, sitting down too. A few classmates waved at Akio, recognizing him from the waterpark, before heading off to their own seats. 

“So as I was saying earlier,” Akio began, “it all started with Chaos.” 

Izuku made a face and let out a small laugh. 

“Not chaos as in destruction,” Akio clarified quickly, amused. “This void was literally called Chaos.” 

“Out of Chaos came Gaia, the Earth, and Uranus, the Sky. They fell in love and had a bunch of kids who would later be known as the Titans.” 

Izuku was too busy listening and admiring the way Akio’s voice grew animated to notice Uraraka entering the cafeteria. 

“But Uranus was kind of a control freak,” Akio went on. “He didn’t want his kids to overthrow him, so he trapped them deep inside the Earth. Gaia got furious and asked her son, Cronus, to stop him. Cronus did it by using a sickle and, uh…” Akio’s tone dropped slightly, “got rid of Uranus.” 

His brown eyes flicked toward Izuku, who was wide-eyed at the story but his green eyes never left Akio’s face. 

Akio quickly looked away, continuing, “Then Cronus became the ruler, but he’s just as bad.” 

“Does he also become a control freak?” Izuku teased, catching the pattern. 

Akio laughed quietly. “Kinda. There’s this prophecy that one of his kids will overthrow him, so he eats them.” Izuku suddenly bursted into laughter, unprepared for Akio’s serious tone while saying something so absurd. “Literally though, he ate his children.” 

“But,” Akio dragged out the word playfully, “Rhea, his wife, hides their youngest, Zeus, and gives Cronus a rock wrapped in cloth instead. Zeus grows up in secret and, when he’s older, sneaks back to free his siblings. He makes Cronus drink a potion that makes him throw them all up—Hestia, Demeter, Hera, Hades, and Poseidon. Then they all team up and fight the Titans for control of the world.” 

He finished with a grin. “And that’s how Zeus and his brothers become Olympian gods. They end up ruling everything. The sky, the sea, and the underworld.” 

Izuku blinked, still fascinated. “Wait—how does one even become an Olympian god? Or like, heroes? And what’s the meaning behind Mount Olympus?” 

Akio nudged his head toward the now-shorter lunch line and stood. Izuku followed instantly, the conversation flowing between them as they joined the line, too caught up in their own world to notice the eyes that followed them. 

“So, Mount Olympus,” Akio started, leaning a little closer to be heard over the cafeteria noise. “It was believed to be the highest mountain in Greece, where the Olympian gods lived. Basically, their divine headquarters.” 

Izuku tilted his head. “So not everyone could be an Olympian god, right?” 

“Right,” Akio said with a small smile. “Only the twelve main gods ruled from there. Zeus, Hera, Poseidon, Athena, Apollo, Artemis, Demeter, Hephaestus, Aphrodite, Hermes, and either Hestia or Dionysus, those two have their own story so their seat is contested in some myths. The rest were either demigods or minor deities.” 

Izuku looked genuinely curious. “And how did people become heroes? Like Heracles, right?” 

“Yeah,” Akio nodded, stepping forward with the line. “Heroes were usually demigods—half-human, half-god. They did impossible things, went on quests, fought monsters. People saw them as proof that humans could do something great too, even if they weren’t perfect or divine like gods.” 

As they grabbed their food, Akio kept talking, explaining each of the main gods in quick, precise bursts. Zeus, ruler of the sky. Poseidon, lord of the sea. Athena, the goddess of wisdom and war strategy. His voice carried that same quiet excitement as before, and Izuku listened, genuinely absorbed, occasionally nodding or laughing when Akio mentioned a weird detail about one of the gods. 

They found their way back to the table, setting down their trays. The hum of the cafeteria filled the air, but somehow, it all felt muted between them. Akio picked up where he left off, sketching invisible shapes on the table with his finger as he talked about Apollo and Artemis, about how even gods had rivalries and flaws that made them feel human.  

Suddenly— 

“Hi, Akio!” 

Izuku looked up instantly. He knew that voice. Uraraka. 

“Oh, hi Uraraka,” Akio said, caught off guard. He shifted slightly, realizing how close he’d been sitting to Izuku. Izuku noticed too, heat creeping up his neck. 

“Hi, Ochako,” Izuku said quickly, trying not to sound nervous. Uraraka’s knowing smile said she caught them. 

She sat down beside them, all bright eyes and quiet mischief. “Hey, guys. So, Akio, how come you sat here today?” 

“Oh, Izuku and I were talking about a book from art class and wanted to keep the conversation going,” Akio said easily. 

“Oh? Which book?” 

“The Song of Achilles,” Akio replied. 

Uraraka’s eyes widened. “Wait, my girlfriend loves that book! Did you like it, Deku? She’s been begging me to read it.” 

“I loved it—and I didn’t know Toga liked it,” Izuku said, smiling before he realized what he’d just admitted. 

Uraraka laughed softly. “I didn’t know Akio read a lot queer books.” 

Izuku froze. His heart thumped nervously, his eyes flicking toward Akio like maybe the words carried another meaning. 

Akio met his gaze and offered a sheepish smile. “Oh—she knows, by the way.” 

“What?!” Izuku blurted. 

Uraraka rested her chin on her hand. “You think I didn’t know, Deku?” Her innocent tone was paired with that teasing smirk that drove him insane. 

“I-I just—” 

“I told her the day at the waterpark,” Akio admitted, his laugh tight and nervous. 

“Oh,” Izuku muttered, a small frown threatening to show. He wasn’t mad, just… left out, somehow. 

Uraraka, sensing the awkwardness, quickly changed the subject. “I’ll read it over Thanksgiving break then.” 

It took Izuku a second to process that. Thanksgiving break. 

He’d been so buried in homework and reading that the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind.  

“Oh, that’s right,” Izuku said. “Are you two doing anything for the break?” 

Uraraka brightened. “Yeah, I’m going to my grandparents’ house. They bake the best pies ever. I can’t wait!” 

Akio chuckled softly. “I’ll be with my family. My little brother and I usually help my mom with the cooking.” He looked at Izuku. “What about you?” 

“I also have plans,” Izuku replied quickly. His eyes flicked, just for a moment, toward the table in front of his table. Katsuki sat at his usual seat, laughing with Kirishima about something. 

Luckily, the blonde didn’t catch him looking. 

“My mom and I are going to a family friend’s house,” Izuku continued, his voice careful. “I’ll probably go to some stores on Black Friday for art supplies.” 

Uraraka smiled knowingly. She didn’t say anything about it, but the look said enough. 

The bell rang not long after, signaling the end of lunch. Students began to scatter, but Izuku lingered for a second, watching Akio stand and sling his bag over his shoulder. 

As they walked out of the cafeteria together, Akio suddenly blurted, “Oh, Izuku—I forgot to tell you that basketball’s having open gym and tryouts soon.” 

“Oh really? That’s good. You’ll be going, right? You did say you’d win games,” Izuku teased, recalling Akio’s confident comment from the carne asada. 

“Of course we’ll win,” Akio shot back with a smirk, a different kind than his usual soft smile. 

The conversation faded as they split off toward their next classes. Uraraka trailed behind Izuku with Mina, chatting quietly, though Izuku didn’t notice. His mind was already drifting elsewhere. The talk of myths in class, the book they were reading, the mention of Thanksgiving break soon. 

It all blurred together, but for the first time in a while, the world felt full again. 

The next morning came with the familiar chill of late November. Their last day before break was a half day, and Katsuki had casually announced on their morning walk that he’d be staying after school to hang out with Kirishima. Still no comments from him or Izuku about the upcoming holiday. 

Thanksgiving tomorrow. 

The words looped in Izuku’s head all morning, echoing between the sound of pencils scratching paper and teachers reminding everyone to turn in assignments. 

Thanksgiving. At the Bakugos’. 

By the time the half day ended, the halls buzzed with excitement. Students rushed out into the crisp air, laughing, shouting their goodbyes. Izuku took his time, walking home beneath the soft gray sky. His thoughts drifted between Akio’s laugh, Uraraka’s teasing grin, and the quiet that always came whenever Katsuki’s name crossed his mind. 

Thanksgiving was in a few hours. He’d be in Katsuki’s house again. In just a few hours. 

Izuku went to sleep that night with nerves he’d been too scared to voice to his mom. She’d gone grocery shopping after work, letting him know they’d help out with cooking for the meal at the Bakugos’. Izuku tried to stay calm, tried to seem fine, but he found himself watching movies late into the night, hoping, just a little, that something would cancel the plans last minute. 

He considered telling his mom everything. The things he’d kept from her about Katsuki, about how their friendship ended. Anything to somehow avoid Thanksgiving. But he couldn’t. 

So when morning came, waking him from a half-peaceful sleep, he woke up to the smell of pumpkin spice candles and food drifting from the kitchen downstairs. 

As he walked down the stairs, he saw his mom already busy in the kitchen. 

“Hey, Mom,” he said, his hair still a mess. 

“Hi, sweetie!” She turned around, her face lighting up when she saw him. “Did you sleep well?” 

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “What are you cooking?” 

He kissed her on the cheek before sitting down at the table, quietly watching her move around the kitchen. 

“Oh, Mitsuki told me she’s cooking turkey, so I said I’d help by roasting potatoes and making lasagna. The rest she said she’d take care of. It’ll be a real buffet tonight, honey.” 

Izuku hummed, his eyes flicking toward the clock in the living room. It was just past 11 a.m. Still too early to start getting ready. 

He stood up and wandered over to the counter. “Should I help you with anything?” 

Inko gave him a playful side-eye, and they both burst into laughter. 

“Go clean your room before you burn the kitchen by just touching the oven,” she said, shaking her head. “I’ll be fine.” 

“Okay,” he said, heading back toward the stairs. “Wait, what time are we going over?” 

“Three o’clock,” she called from the kitchen. 

Izuku quickly organized his room. He checked his bag and realized he had no homework for the next few days, a small relief. He made his bed, dusted his room, his mom’s room, and the bathroom. Set out some clothes without giving it too much thought. 

Twelve o’clock. 

He went downstairs again. His mother was done cooking, so he offered to help with the dishes and clean-up. She hummed as she moved around the kitchen, soft music playing from her phone, the sweet scent of candles filling the room. 

Izuku offered to watch a movie together before getting ready, and she said yes. 

He put on When Harry Met Sally, their favorite autumn movie.  Its cozy atmosphere matching the feel of their own home. 

By the time it ended, it was almost two. 

“Alright, honey, I’m going to shower and start getting ready,” she said, stretching as she stood. 

They both headed to their rooms. Izuku lay on his bed for a while, scrolling through his phone before glancing back at the clothes he’d picked out. 

He started second-guessing them. Was it too casual? It was just a dinner… right? He put away the t-shirt. Scrolled again. Looked back at the pants. Too plain? 

His steps probably doubled from pacing between his closet and bed, changing his mind every few minutes. 

Eventually, he took a shower and towel-dried his hair, trying to tame the messy curls sticking out in every direction. 

He finally decided on a loose, ribbed knit sweater in a soft taupe-gray, the sleeves slightly bunched around his wrists. His jeans were a faded brown, comfortably worn and a little loose around the legs, brushing the tops of his black converse. A thin silver chain peeked from beneath his collar. 

Was this too much? 

He turned side to side, trying to see himself from other angles, ignoring the thought that maybe he was putting in too much effort, like he wasn’t just going to the Bakugos’, like he didn’t walk beside Katsuki every morning. 

He went to his mom’s room, eager to show her the outfit. 

“Hey, Mom! Is this good?” He did a small, playful twirl that made her laugh. 

“My, my, Izuku, you look dashing,” she said, touching the chain and kissing his cheek. “Oh, my handsome boy.” 

“Are you almost done getting ready?” he asked. 

She was brushing her hair, her freshly done blowout soft around her shoulders. She wore a beige cardigan over a black flowy maxi dress, the kind that swayed when she moved. 

“Yeah, just one more thing before we go.” 

She walked over to her dresser and opened a small black box. Inside was a shiny silver cross on a delicate chain. 

“Can you put it on for me, honey?” she asked, lifting her hair. 

Izuku froze for half a second. 

A cross. 

He swallowed. “Sure.” 

He clasped it around her neck carefully, the metal catching the light. His own reflection flashed back at him in its shine. 

“You look beautiful, Mom,” he said softly, needing to steady himself. 

“Oh, sweetie, you tease me,” she smiled. 

“There, all done.” 

He started toward his room. “I forgot to put on cologne!” 

“Thank you, sweetie!” she called after him. 

The minute he stepped inside his room, Izuku finally exhaled. His chest felt tight. Like something old and heavy had been shaken awake. 

He’d been avoiding it for a while now, that quiet fear about who he was, and what it meant. But seeing that cross brought everything back. Like all the progress he thought he’d made meant nothing. 

He dabbed on his favorite cologne and caught his reflection in the mirror. For a long moment, he just looked. 

All he saw was a queer boy. 

Would his mom ever accept him for being bi? Would she still look at him the same? 

She’d always been kind, endlessly loving, the best mom anyone could ask for. But when it came to this… he didn’t know what she thought. He didn’t know if she’d still smile at him the same way. 

“You ready, honey?” Inko’s voice came softly from the doorway. 

Izuku turned, startled, hoping she hadn’t noticed him zoning out. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I’m ready.” 

They walked down the stairs together, Izuku following behind as Inko slipped on her crossbody purse. In the kitchen, a few aluminum pans and a bowl waited on the counter. 

“Izuku,” she said, reaching for a reusable bag. “Help me with these, please.” 

“Ah—sure, Mom.” Izuku rushed over, quick to take the heavier dishes. “I’ll carry these two. You take the lighter one.” 

“Thank you so much, honey.” 

Izuku gripped the bags carefully, the weight of the warm containers tugging at his hands, but it was nothing compared to the weight in his chest. That necklace… it had thrown him off balance completely, like being pushed off a cliff he’d finally climbed. 

Inko opened the front door, and Izuku stepped outside as she double-checked the locks. When she finally closed it, she traced a small sign of the cross over her chest. 

They started down the quiet sidewalk together, their steps slow and uneven. Izuku’s heart pounded, louder than their footsteps. The chill in the air bit at his face, but all he could feel was the ache of fear in his chest, fear of what might happen if his mom ever knew. 

He tried not to look at the silver cross resting against her cardigan as they talked. He tried not to think about how good it had felt to finally understand himself, to feel like he belonged somewhere. Being bisexual had felt like breathing again after years underwater. But that cross reminded him of everything that had once suffocated him. 

Everything about middle school. The whispered comments, the confusion, the things adults said about what was “right” and “wrong.” 

Katsuki would understand.  

When Izuku blinked, they were already crossing the road. Only one house away now. The familiar two-story, white-wooden Bakugo home, its 3 shiny cars lined perfectly in the driveway. 

“Ah, doesn’t this bring back memories, Izuku?” Inko said softly, nostalgia lighting her face. 

He could only nod. Because no matter how warm she sounded, he knew, he could never tell her about middle school. Or about Katsuki. Or about himself. 

Not now. Maybe not ever. 

They stepped up the entryway. Inko’s gentle smile returned as she pressed the doorbell. 

Izuku swallowed hard. 

The door swung open. 

“Mitsuki!” Inko greeted, her voice instantly brightening. 

“INKO! You made it!” Mitsuki beamed, pulling her into a loud, warm hug that filled the entire doorway. 

Inko hugged her back tightly, careful with the arm balancing the tray of food. 

“Oh, Mitsuki,” she said warmly. “We can finally spend the holidays together again.” 

Izuku smiled. He always thought it was cute how his mom and Mitsuki’s friendship had never changed, no matter how many years passed. 

“It’s been forever,” Mitsuki replied, taking the dish from Inko’s hands. “Let me get these for you.” She turned, spotting Izuku. “Also—hi, Izuku! Welcome! Come in, come in!” 

“Ah—hi, Mitsuki.” Izuku smiled shyly. 

Mitsuki led them toward the kitchen—the same one Izuku had stood in just a few months ago. Time was moving too fast. 

Masaru was at the stove, stirring something fragrant in a large pot. When he heard the familiar voices, he turned, his face lighting up. 

“Welcome, Inko!” he greeted, one hand still holding the utensil, the other giving a small wave. “And hello, Izuku.” 

“Hi,” Izuku said, placing the food he’d carried on the kitchen island. The counter was already overflowing with trays, bowls, and dishes. It smelled incredible—garlic, herbs, roasted turkey, and sweet bread all blending together. He could practically taste it already. 

“Thank you so much, Inko,” Mitsuki said, rearranging some of the dishes. “It’s going to be a feast, huh?” 

Inko giggled and joined her at the counter. 

Izuku stood off to the side, unsure what to do. He was about to ask if they needed help when— 

He felt a poke on his shoulder. 

He turned, no one was there. 

Then a familiar voice, right behind him. “Ha. Gotcha, nerd.” 

Izuku jumped, spinning around to find Katsuki standing there, smirk firmly in place. 

“Katsuki!” Inko’s voice lit up. 

“’Bout time you came down,” Mitsuki muttered, crossing her arms at her son. 

Inko stepped forward without hesitation, wrapping Katsuki in a tight hug. The blonde froze for a second, awkwardly stooping so she could reach him. 

“H-hi, Auntie,” he mumbled, patting her back once. 

Mitsuki snorted, and Izuku couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him, though he quickly covered it with his hand. 

“Alright, Katsuki,” Mitsuki said, waving them off. “Take Izuku up to your room. Be nice. We’ll call you down when dinner’s ready.” 

“Ah, I can help too—” Izuku started. 

“Oh, don’t worry, sweetie,” Inko interrupted, smiling brightly. “Spend some time with Katsuki.” 

Izuku nearly choked on air. Spend time with Katsuki? In front of him? Now? 

But there was no way to say no without looking rude. 

“Come on,” Katsuki said, voice low as he turned toward the hallway. 

Izuku followed, his heart thudding in rhythm with each of Katsuki’s steps. 

Katsuki’s jacket caught the soft kitchen light as he moved, a deep brown leather with a cream shearling collar that framed his neck perfectly. The kind of jacket that looked both rough and comfortable, worn-in like it belonged to him. Underneath, a plain white tank clung to his chest, showing the faint curve of collarbones and the easy shift of muscle when he walked. A thin silver chain glinted just under his throat. 

Izuku’s brain was short-circuiting. 

His eyes flicked over every detail without permission. His light-wash jeans, the dark belt, the car keys hanging from one loop. Katsuki had probably gone out earlier, Izuku thought, but he didn’t dare ask. He didn’t dare think too hard about why he noticed any of it. 

The scent of Katsuki’s cologne, that scent he smelt once before, the days before Homecoming. That smell was sharp, easy on the nose. It smelt like burnt cinnamon, yet it was oddly sensual. 

And somewhere under all that sensory noise, Izuku realized three things at once: 

One, he was actually spending Thanksgiving with Katsuki. 

Two, he was standing inside Katsuki’s house, surrounded by ghosts of their childhood. 

And three, Katsuki was unfairly, painfully attractive. 

The staircase and hallway were exactly as he remembered them. Same soft creak on the fifth and eleventh step, same framed photo of young Katsuki and his parents at the beach. Each detail hit him like a memory he wasn’t ready to relive. 

He was so distracted staring at the back of Katsuki’s jacket that he didn’t notice they’d already reached the door to his room. 

Katsuki’s voice snapped him out of it. 

“I could feel your eyes on me, idiot.” 

Izuku blinked, face heating up. “H-huh?” He forced a nervous laugh. “No, I wasn’t—” 

Katsuki only scoffed, shoving his door open wider. 

As they stepped inside, a heavy silence stretched longer than it should have. It made everything feel…awkward, to say the least. 

Katsuki grabbed his phone off the desk without a word, while Izuku stood a few steps from the door, his hands clasped behind his back. 

He wanted the ground to eat him whole. What was he supposed to do here? What did people do when they were alone in Katsuki Bakugou’s room? 

He let his gaze wander, just a little though, because it felt weirdly invasive, but the change hit him right away. The room looked nothing like the one he remembered from middle school. Gone were the bright colors and the posters of All Might, the best pilot they used to look up to, or in Katsuki’s case, wanted to beat. 

Katsuki’s desk sat to the left of the door, the room a long yet wide enough rectangle that felt unmistakably his. Along the left  wall stood his closet, its smooth white panels matching the desk. The doors were carved with neat, symmetrical designs, each golden knob gleaming softly in the light. 

It was strange. Izuku’s own room had changed so much too, but somehow seeing Katsuki’s like this made time feel heavier. Like he couldn’t quite recognize this space, or the person who lived in it. 

…But maybe that wasn’t a bad thing that Katsuki had changed. Maybe Izuku has changed too. Maybe that was something they had in common now. 

“You’re unusually quiet,” Katsuki said suddenly, his voice breaking through the quiet hum of tension. Izuku hadn’t even noticed that Katsuki had sat on the edge of his bed, elbows resting on his knees, phone dangling between his hands. 

“I’m great! I just…” Izuku fumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just… your room’s changed a lot since the last time I was here.” 

Six years ago, to be exact. 

“Oh.” Katsuki’s gaze dropped to the floor, the word short and unreadable. 

The silence that followed made Izuku’s stomach twist. He glanced around, desperate for something, anything, to fill it. Then his eyes landed on a small white shelf between Katsuki’s desk and bed. It was neatly divided into four square compartments, the top two filled with perfectly stacked CDs. 

His curiosity took over before his nerves could stop him. “Woah, you really do have a big CD collection,” he said, crouching down to read the titles lined up vertically. Izuku felt a flicker of envy.  He only owned maybe seven CDs, but Katsuki had an entire lineup that looked like a mini record store shelf. 

Katsuki leaned back on his bed, one arm propped behind him, the other resting on his thigh. “Yeah,” he said simply, watching Izuku from the corner of his eye. 

The first few CDs were familiar, bands Izuku recognized. Radiohead, The Neighborhood. The one that caught his eye was AM by Arctic Monkeys, the same album they’d talked about that first morning walk back in September. The next few were lined up in order. Favourite Worst Nightmare, The Car, Humbug, Suck It and See… Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not...? 

He blinked. Okay, so Katsuki definitely had albums Izuku hadn’t even heard of. 

“Are you a big fan of Arctic Monkeys?” Izuku asked softly, tracing a finger over one of the spines. 

“What does it look like to you?” Katsuki shot back instantly, but not unkindly. 

Izuku smiled faintly, then he noticed the next row was different. The titles weren’t in English anymore. They were in Spanish. 

“Woah,” he murmured, leaning in closer. “You have CDs in Spanish?!” 

The words leapt off the CD cases, titles written in a language Izuku could read, but hadn’t in so long. He pulled one out, curiosity sparking through his chest. The cover showed three men in a grainy black-and-white photo, the background a static gray. The words across the top were bold and bright yellow: Soda Stereo. 

“A bit,” Katsuki replied, but Izuku knew he was lying. There were several CDs with Spanish titles lined up. 

Turning over the case, Izuku read the song list, and the words were so unfamiliar now. He could still understand them, it just took him a second longer to do so now. 

His eyes flicked up to the walls. The posters there matched the bands he’d just seen on the shelf. Enanitos Verdes, the sage-green poster reading “Contra Reloj — Argentina, Mendoza, 1986.” 

“What genre are these?” Izuku asked, still scanning the room. 

“Rock,” Katsuki answered, finally standing up. “The actual term is Rock en Español, but Spanish rock works too.” 

He said it so casually, like it wasn’t the biggest surprise Izuku had ever heard. Sure, Izuku knew Katsuki took Spanish, but from the way he mentioned it on their walks, he never would’ve guessed he listened to Spanish music. Arctic Monkeys made sense for him. But this? This was something new. 

And discovering it made something spark in Izuku. He was learning about Katsuki all over again. 

Like they were becoming friends again. 

But Izuku knew better than to hope for that. 

“When did you start listening to them?” he asked, curiosity getting the better of him. 

Katsuki crouched down beside the shelf, mirroring Izuku’s earlier position. “The summer before freshman year.” 

“How’d you find them?” 

“It came up on my Spotify recommendations by accident.” Katsuki paused, then added, “Since then, I’ve liked it.” 

“Look,” he said suddenly, “I’ve got more behind these.” 

Sure enough, another stack of CDs was tucked horizontally behind the front ones. 

“Wow,” Izuku breathed, crouching down beside him. “How do you genuinely have so many?” 

Katsuki shrugged, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Maybe I’m just better than you.” 

Izuku scoffed, rolling his eyes. “As if.” 

His gaze wandered over the next stack, the cover he focused on showed a hazy photo, the title barely legible in the shadowed print. 

“Oh, you listen to Cigarettes After Sex?” Izuku blurted out. The name alone made him flush, but he still looked up at Katsuki in surprise. 

“Hell yeah, I listen to them,” Katsuki said, his tone full of confidence. 

“You have all their albums?!” 

“Mhm. It’s only right to.” 

Izuku laughed softly. “Your music taste is so varied.” 

“Varied?” Katsuki scoffed. “I just have good taste. But you seems to lack that.” 

He reached for one of the orange-colored CDs, the title in soft blue and black letters, and slid it into the small CD player sitting on top of the shelf. A few clicks later, the track number changed. His hand also reached for a small JBL speaker, the small light that turned on when he pressed a button signifying it connected to the CD player. 

The first sounds were electric guitar. Bright, urgent, spilling into the quiet room. Then, a man’s voice sang in Spanish. 

“Ella durmió al calor de las masas…” 

Izuku scrambled to translate it in his head, his heart weirdly picking up. Katsuki, meanwhile, began drumming his fingers in the air, mouthing the words like Spanish was second nature. 

Izuku couldn’t help it, he laughed. Seeing Katsuki this way, so unguarded, so into it, it was a side of him he hadn’t seen in so long. 

“De aquel amor, de música ligera,” Katsuki mouthed along, playing a pretend guitar, his hand movements matching the rhythm perfectly. 

“Nada nos libra, nada más queda—” 

He abruptly hit pause, cheeks faintly flushed. “So, now you see why I listen to it? These songs are the fucking bomb dot com.” 

As soon as he said that, Katsuki raised his right hand, quick to cover his mouth, or rather the embarrassed smile that had slipped out before Izuku could notice. But Izuku caught it. 

The CD player was a small, portable black stereo, the iconic Sony logo and the W for Walkman displayed across the top. The button Katsuki pressed popped open the thin lid where the brand name was printed, and the CD inside spun fast before halting with a soft click. 

The disc was reflective gray, streaked with a burst of orange across one side. Down the center ran the song titles in small black text. The band name read once again Soda Stereo, Canción Animal. 

Katsuki’s hand then removed the CD from the Walkman, carefully placing it back in its case. His hand also reached for a small JBL speaker, the blue light flickering off as he pressed the button, signaling it was connected to the CD player. Izuku’s eyes lingered on the motion, the roughness of Katsuki’s hands, the way his fingers held the case like something fragile. 

To distract himself, Izuku blurted out, “So!” He stood abruptly, stepping away from the unfamiliar proximity between them. “Your room’s actually really cool.” 

The posters, the neatly organized desk, the darker tones, it was all so different from Izuku’s own room, which was bright and chaotic and covered in color. The only thing their rooms had in common was the white furniture. 

“Is yours looking better now?” Katsuki asked casually. “You know, since moving to your new place?” 

“Hm?” Izuku said, still scanning the posters. “Oh, yeah. My room’s bigger than it was at the apartment complex.” 

He almost said remember it? Remember our memories in it? but stopped himself. He was scared that Katsuki would question why Izuku still remembered those details so vividly. 

“Oh yeah,” Katsuki said, stretching the words out. “Your old house used to be so fucking small. I still remember that.” 

Izuku’s head snapped toward him. He remembers? 

Okay, today officially had it out for Izuku. Everything that had happened so far felt like a trick, a blur of moments that didn’t make sense. Their conversation might have seemed meaningless to anyone else, because frankly, their “chitchat” was off, like something was beneath the surface, yet no one dared to expose it. But to Izuku, every word between them now, in that room, on their walks, were words to seem normal, to keep their act of moving on from their harsh past.  

And that was the culprit of what drove Izuku insane. The way Katsuki did remember things, things Izuku believed were wrong to say he remembered because he was afraid of the past catching up to them. Things he wanted to say, memories he wanted to appreciate despite everything between them, but didn’t because it might provoke Katsuki, and he couldn’t afford to ruin things. To ruin whatever fragile balance they had now. 

Yet Katsuki confessed he remembered so easily. Like he wasn't the cause of this panic inside Izuku’s mind. 

All Izuku could manage was a quiet, “Yeah…” 

What was going on? He wondered. A storm of questions brewed in his chest, questions he shouldn’t ask but has wanted to. His mind buzzed, restless and loud, until— 

“Katsuki! Izuku! The food’s ready!” Mitsuki’s voice carried up the stairs, slicing through the silence. 

Katsuki cleared his throat. “Come on,” he muttered, jerking his head toward the door. 

Izuku turned quickly, almost too quickly, desperate for the distraction of fresh air. Katsuki followed close behind, his hand trailing along the wooden railing that matched the staircase’s white trim. 

“Wow, it smells good,” Izuku said as they stepped into the living room. 

The solid-wood dining table, also different from the one six years ago, was surrounded by matching chairs. The warm, medium-dark finish of the wood made the white plates gleam under the soft overhead light. 

Steam rose from the roasted turkey breast, its skin crisp and golden-brown. Beside it sat slices of glazed ham, pink and caramelized, scored in perfect diamond cuts. Bright yellow corn kernels shone in a porcelain bowl, and a square white dish held a hearty slice of lasagna. Izuku instantly recognized his mom’s handiwork. 

There was creamy potato salad, smooth mashed potatoes with a glossy pool of gravy in the center, and a dish of green bean casserole. 

Mitsuki appeared from the kitchen with a platter of golden-brown dinner rolls, steam rising as she set them down. Katsuki gathered napkins and utensils while Masaru finished cleaning the last of the pans. 

Izuku stood awkwardly by the table, unsure where to help or what to do with himself until Inko approached with a warm smile. 

“It looks delicious, doesn’t it?” she said softly, her eyes flickering over the food. 

Izuku just hummed, half in agreement, half because his stomach wouldn’t let him speak. 

Katsuki finished setting the utensils beside each plate, neat and precise. 

“Sit, sit!” Mitsuki called from the kitchen, peeling off her oven mitts. 

Inko gently guided Izuku to a seat beside her. Katsuki sat across from him, next to his mom. Masaru took the right end of the table, positioned perfectly between both boys. 

Everyone’s eyes carried the same eager anticipation, the air thick with warmth and the smell of roasted turkey, lasagna, and gravy. 

Then Mitsuki reached over and took Inko’s hand. 

“Thank you so much, Inko and Izuku, for coming over today,” she began. “It’s really nice having the holidays together again.” 

“Thank you for inviting us,” Inko replied, her voice soft but sincere. “And this food looks amazing, Mitsuki.” 

Izuku smiled unconsciously, his eyes flicking up and colliding with Katsuki’s. The look only lasted a second before Mitsuki’s voice broke it. 

“Alright!” she declared, clapping her hands once. “Let’s dig in!” 

Inko made a small cross over her chest before reaching for the serving spoon. Soon the table filled with the sounds of forks and spoons against plates, and dishes being passed back and forth. 

Inko handed Izuku a bowl of mashed potatoes. He passed it immediately to Masaru, hoping no one noticed that he didn’t touch it. Then Katsuki reached across the table with a plate of corn. Izuku’s fingers brushed against his, barely a touch for a second, but the warmth that shot through his body signified something else. He ignored it. Or tried to. 

“So, Izuku,” Mitsuki began cheerfully, “how have you been? Do you like your new home?” 

Izuku swallowed quickly. “Yeah! I love the new house.” His mom smiled beside him, proud. “It’s closer to school too, so it’s really convenient.” 

“That’s great!” Mitsuki grinned. “You know, not trying to stir anything, but have you thought about walking with Katsuki? He walks to school, and maybe you two could catch up?” 

Izuku almost choked on his drink. He forced a polite laugh. “Ah, well—” 

“We already walk together, Mom,” Katsuki cut in, casual as ever, grabbing a slice of lasagna. 

Mitsuki gasped, delighted. “You do? That’s adorable! Izuku, if this brat gives you any trouble, you come straight to me, got it?” 

Izuku laughed, cheeks warm. “I will.” 

“I’m not a kid,” Katsuki muttered, earning a quiet glare from Masaru. 

Inko, ever the conversational anchor, turned to Katsuki. “How about you, Katsuki? How have you been?” 

“I’ve been alright,” he said, tone relaxed. “Senior year’s not bad. Just a pain in the ass—” He stopped when Mitsuki nudged him sharply. “I mean, a pain of assignments.” 

Inko chuckled. “Are you doing anything fun this year? Any sports or clubs?” 

“Volleyball,” Katsuki said. “But that’s spring season. I used to do clubs, but I dropped them to focus on it.” 

Izuku found himself wondering which clubs those had been. Probably ones Izuku never joined. 

“You’ve really grown into such a handsome and responsible boy,” Inko said warmly. 

Katsuki blinked, caught off guard, and nearly choked on his water. “Uh—thanks.” 

Mitsuki snorted, grinning. “You hear that, Katsuki? Even Inko thinks you’re handsome.” 

Katsuki groaned, ears turning pink. Izuku couldn’t help but smile. 

Inko leaned forward again. “How did college applications go for you, Katsuki?” 

Katsuki cleared his throat, composing himself. “Not terrible. Stressful as fu—uh, fudge,” he corrected quickly, “but I got them all in.” 

“And where did you apply?” 

Izuku tried to focus on his food, but every word suddenly felt heavier. He had wanted to ask Katsuki that question a dozen times on their walks and never dared. 

“I applied to a bunch of in-state schools like Rutgers,” Katsuki said. “But also Columbia.” 

Columbia. Izuku’s fork paused halfway to his mouth. 

Mitsuki turned to him. “What about you, Izuku?” 

“Oh—uh,” he swallowed. “I applied to Columbia too. And NYU.” 

Masaru gave a soft whistle. Mitsuki beamed. Katsuki only lifted his eyebrows, unreadable. 

Then, with a bit too much pride, Mitsuki added, “You know, Katsuki’s been scouted by a few universities for volleyball!” 

Katsuki visibly tensed. “Mom—” 

She waved him off. “What? It’s true! A couple of out-of-state schools reached out after summer tournaments.” 

Inko’s face lit up. “That’s incredible, Katsuki! Is Columbia one of them? Is that why you’re thinking of going there?” 

Katsuki shrugged, freeing himself from his mother’s hand. “Nah. I didn’t accept any offers.” 

Izuku blinked. What? 

“I wanna go for aerospace engineering,” Katsuki said, his tone firm. “Columbia’s got a great program for that.” 

Mitsuki’s grin softened.  

“Still chasing that pilot dream.” Mitsuki mentioned quietly. 

Katsuki nodded faintly. Izuku’s heart twisted a little at that. He remembered those days. Two kids talking about flying planes, saving people, chasing the sky. 

Inko smiled. “Aerospace engineering? That’s amazing. What part of it are you most interested in?” 

Katsuki hesitated for a moment, eyes flicking down to his plate. “Probably propulsion systems or design. Something that actually moves.” 

Everyone nodded thoughtfully. The table filled with warmth again, soft conversation continuing around him, except Izuku, whose mind buzzed with quiet panic. 

Please don’t ask me what I want to do. Please don’t. 

He wasn’t sure yet. He had been anxiously waiting for the day admissions to reach out to him about NYU and Columbia, but his career choice, his future, still remained unclear and foggy to picture.  

“Maybe one day you’ll build something that actually flies,” Masaru said with a proud grin. 

“Maybe,” Katsuki replied, simple, but sure. 

Izuku glanced across the table, heart heavy but full of admiration. Katsuki looked certain. Grounded. Like someone already moving toward a future Izuku wasn’t ready to face. 

And that thought alone scared him. The idea that someday soon, they’ll be living completely different lives. 

The table talk shifted, Mitsuki and Masaru catching up, Inko chiming in, laughter filling small pauses, but Izuku stayed quiet, eating slowly. He nodded, smiled when spoken to, but most of his attention sat somewhere between the food and Katsuki sitting across from him. 

Every time he looked up, their eyes met. And every time, they both looked away. 

“Would you guys like dessert?” Mitsuki asked after everyone was done eating. “Katsuki, go bring it.” 

Izuku watched him get up, that familiar blonde head turning toward the kitchen. The fridge opened, its glow tracing his outline as he pulled something out carefully, a white round plate. 

“Oh my, is it flan?” Inko said, instantly excited. 

“Yup, this brat made it,” Mitsuki said proudly. 

“Wow, Katsuki, you really are charming!” Inko said, laughing lightly. 

Katsuki didn’t respond. Just set the plate down like he was performing surgery, careful with every move to not drop it. 

Izuku’s mouth practically fell open. The flan looked perfect. The kind you only see behind bakery glass cases, with that glossy caramel top glimmering under light. 

Katsuki went back to grab smaller plates, spoons, and a silver spatula. His hands moved confidently, cutting even slices, clean and smooth, no hesitation. 

He handed one plate to Inko. “Izuku, you want one?” 

“Huh? Oh—yeah! Yes, please,” Izuku said a bit too fast. 

Everyone dug in at once, the spoons sliding through the caramel layer, cutting into the creamy, custard-like texture beneath. Cold and silky, sweet but not overwhelming. The caramel had a deep, golden taste, a tiny hint of bitterness that balanced everything out. 

“This is delicious, Katsuki!” Inko said, melting after the first bite. 

“So good,” Mitsuki added proudly. 

“This is so good, Kacchan,” Izuku blurted out without thinking. His cheeks flushed right after. But he couldn’t care about that. His entire world, his problems, could’ve melted right into this dessert and he wouldn’t mind because of how good it really was. 

Katsuki looked down at his plate, shrugged. “It’s nothing.” 

But his lips twitched. That tiny hidden smile he didn’t want anyone to see. 

Izuku savored the flan’s sweetness, clinging onto every bite of his slice. It was almost funny how Katsuki, someone so unpredictable, tense, and sharp, could make something so sweet. And not just sweet, but good. The kind of dessert that made you close your eyes for a second. 

“Seriously, Katsuki, this is amazing,” Inko said through her bites. “When did you learn to bake?” 

Katsuki swallowed, trying to sound casual. “I picked up the hobby when one of the clubs I joined freshman year held a bake sale. One of the girls offered to teach us how to make stuff so we’d have enough to sell.” 

Izuku listened to every word, finally having an excuse to look at Katsuki without feeling like he shouldn’t. 

“Since then,” Katsuki continued, meeting everyone’s eyes, including Izuku’s, “I kinda stuck with it. Got better at it, I guess. Now some clubs ask me to help out when they do sales.” 

Mitsuki leaned back with a proud grin. “All this food was delicious,” she said, glancing at everyone’s nearly empty plates. 

Izuku quickly wiped his lips and hands before standing. “I’ll help with the dishes, Mitsuki.” 

“What?! Are you insane? No, no! We’ll do it. Relax, Izuku,” Mitsuki said, waving her hands. 

“No, Mitsuki, we should help,” Inko tried to reason. 

Izuku began gathering plates, stacking his and his mom’s together when suddenly— 

“I’ll help too,” Katsuki said, standing up and grabbing his parents’ plates. His eyes flickered to Izuku’s, and for a moment, they both froze, then quickly looked away again, suddenly too busy with what they’d volunteered for. 

Izuku carried the dishes to the kitchen, hands full. Once there, he placed them in the sink and, without thinking, took the ones from Katsuki’s hands too. 

“What are you—” 

“Let me help,” Izuku insisted. “You guys cooked, and you baked, so it’s the least I can do.” 

He finally looked up, and found Katsuki’s gaze already on him. For a second, neither said anything. Izuku felt the weight of that look. Like Katsuki was trying to see through him, to understand something unspoken. Izuku wanted to do the same. To ask why Katsuki was being so different now. But all they managed was another mutual silence, both looking away again. 

Izuku rolled up his sleeves and began organizing the plates in the sink. The water ran warm against his hands, the sponge rough, grounding him back into something normal. He tried not to think about Katsuki’s eyes. 

Katsuki quietly moved around him, placing more dishes beside the sink. The sound of running water filled the space, soft and steady. Neither spoke. The silence wasn’t awkward. It was strange. Heavy, but calm. Every clink of a dish, every small sound filled the air between them. 

From the table, Mitsuki’s voice carried over, “Ah, Katsuki! If there’s food left, drop some off to Kirishima too!” 

“Okay,” Katsuki called back. 

Izuku’s hands didn’t stop moving, but the sound of Kirishima’s name made something tug inside his chest. He knew how close the two of them had become after middle school. He’d never admitted it out loud, but that closeness, Katsuki’s kindness being directed at someone else, sometimes hurt more than it should. 

He didn’t want to think about that now. Not here. Not when they were finally putting up the act of being “okay”. 

“You seriously don’t have to do the dishes, you know,” Katsuki said softly, grabbing a small towel and walking to Izuku’s left, where the freshly washed dishes waited to dry. His gaze stayed focused on the job. 

“It’s the least I could do,” Izuku replied. “Plus, you really outdid yourself with the dessert, so I should help a bit, right?” He smiled, trying to sound light. 

Why smile? He needed to seem okay, even when he wasn’t sure what “okay” meant anymore. 

Katsuki didn’t look back. He just kept drying. The sound of water filled their silence again. It poured, soft and constant, while the boys stood shoulder to shoulder, letting the quiet say everything they couldn’t. 

“Anything else I can help with?” Izuku asked, hands dripping. 

“Nope. That’s good enough,” Katsuki said, putting away the last dish. 

Izuku was about to dry his hands on his clothes when Katsuki tossed him a small towel from the drawer. “Here. Don’t dry your hands on your clothes, idiot.” 

Izuku laughed under his breath. “Thank you.” 

Katsuki didn’t answer. 

When they returned to the living room, the adults had moved to the soft black couch, still chatting and laughing. Mitsuki looked up first. 

“Ah, thank you so much, Izuku, you really didn’t have to help!” 

“No problem, Mitsuki,” Izuku smiled. “It was the least I could do.” 

He sat beside his mom, while Katsuki took one of the single chairs near the TV. The room was warm and familiar, the black couch, the smaller two-seater, the two chairs across from them. The kind of home that felt lived-in, filled with laughter and old stories. 

“You know, Izuku,” Mitsuki said suddenly, “you’ve also become quite the handsome boy.” 

Izuku blinked. “Oh—no, no.” He could feel his face flush. Compliments were something he didn’t know how to handle. 

Inko smiled, gently brushing his hair back. 

“Mitsuki,” Izuku started quickly, desperate to change the subject, “your house is still as cozy as ever.” 

“Really? You remember how messy it used to be?” Mitsuki said, laughing. “You and Katsuki used to leave toys everywhere.” 

Katsuki scoffed as he looked away from the living room, and Izuku laughed nervously. He couldn’t handle talking about them as kids right now. 

“Well,” Inko said, smiling softly, “I think it’s time for Izuku and I to head home. We wouldn’t want to bother you any longer.” 

“You’re never a bother!” Mitsuki said, waving her hands. Masaru nodded in agreement. 

After some polite protests, they all stood. The parents headed toward the door, Mitsuki and Inko side by side, Masaru behind them. Izuku and Katsuki followed, quiet, as always. 

“Thank you for coming by!” Mitsuki said, hugging Inko tightly. “And thank you for helping with the food!” Masaru added warmly. 

Inko turned to Katsuki next. “Oh, Katsuki, you really are the golden star now, aren’t you? That dessert was delicious!” She pulled him into a hug, the same warm one she’d given him earlier. 

Katsuki smiled shyly. “Thanks, Auntie. I’m glad you liked it.” 

As Inko stepped out, Mitsuki turned to Izuku with a grin. “You’re tall now, huh?” she said, pulling him into a hug. Izuku laughed softly, falling into it after so long. 

Then she whispered against his ear, “The second Katsuki’s a bitch, you tell me.” 

Izuku blinked, pulling back just as she winked at him. 

Masaru said his goodbyes next, his voice kind and soft. Katsuki lingered near the doorway, watching Izuku. 

“Bye, Kacchan,” Izuku said, waving lightly as he stepped out. 

“Bye, Izuku,” Katsuki said, his voice quiet, watching Izuku and Inko link arms down the sidewalk. 

“They’re so lovely, aren’t they?” Inko said, her arm looped around her son’s. 

Izuku smiled faintly. “Yeah. They are.” 

The Thanksgiving break ended quietly. On Black Friday, Izuku took the bus to a nearby town. The crowds were too much, the noise too loud, so he went straight for what he needed. A new sketchbook, fresh pens, a few journals, and headed back home early. 

The next few days, their walks were easier. 

Izuku would ask Katsuki to tell him funny stories about his baking hobby, and Katsuki talked more. He shared moments about burnt cookies, frosting disasters, and that one time he completely forgot the sugar. Izuku laughed every time. 

Maybe this quiet moving on, this unspoken truce, was the solution. 

It was simple. It was easy. 

And for once, it felt like things were finally starting to make sense again. 

But one Friday, the first Friday of December, that changed. 

That morning, they didn’t walk to school together. Izuku walked alone through the chilly air, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets, no text or heads-up from Katsuki. Just silence. 

At school, Akio told him how basketball open gyms were going great. Some of the guys had started to notice him, how he played, how easily he fit in. Tryouts were coming up soon. 

Izuku congratulated him, promising he’d come watch him play. 

Katsuki, on the other hand, didn’t say a word to him all day. No mention of why he hadn’t walked with him, no small talk, nothing. 

It shouldn’t have bothered Izuku. But it did. 

When the final bell rang, signaling the start of the weekend, Izuku left gym class with his headphones tangled in his hands. He was halfway across the front walkway when a familiar voice cut through the noise. 

“Oi, Izuku!” 

He turned, startled. Katsuki was jogging toward him, slightly out of breath. 

“Kacchan?” Izuku blinked, pulling one earbud out. “What’s up?” 

“Can we—” Katsuki started, still catching his breath. “Can we go somewhere? Together. In my car.” 

“…What?” Izuku asked, completely thrown off. 

Katsuki shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “Wait, no, I mean—” 

“What’s going on?” Izuku asked gently. 

“I don’t mind going somewhere,” he added quickly. He really didn’t. He didn’t have any plans for the evening anyway. But Katsuki asking this out of nowhere? Something was definitely up. “It’s just—don’t you usually stay after school today?” 

“It got cancelled,” Katsuki replied, voice sharp. 

“Oh.” Izuku nodded slowly, shifting his bag higher on his shoulder. “Then… sure. Let me just text my mom.” 

“Alright.” 

They started walking side by side again, silent as the morning, the air between them oddly heavy. When they reached the parking lot, Izuku spotted a red car parked near the middle. Katsuki’s. 

So he’d driven to school today. Izuku could understand that. It was freezing, after all. Still, something inside him stung a little. Katsuki hadn’t said anything. Not even a small “I’ll drive today” text when they have each other’s number. It wasn’t like he had the right to be hurt, but the feeling lingered anyway. 

Katsuki pulled his phone from his pocket as they approached the car, thumbs typing across the screen. A second later, the locks clicked open. 

Without a word, Izuku opened the passenger door and slipped inside. Katsuki followed, sliding into the driver’s seat, his phone still in hand. 

Izuku stared out the window, heart thudding. 

Whatever this was, it wasn’t just a casual drive. 

Chapter Text

The car door shut as Katsuki finally put his phone away into his jeans pocket. Without saying a word, despite his confusion, Izuku slid his bag down to the floor, resting it between his legs. Katsuki tossed his own bag carelessly into the back two vacant red seats.

He rolled up the sleeves of his gray sweatshirt, his car keys jingling as he pushed one into the ignition below the steering wheel. When he turned it, the car rumbled to life. With his foot on the brake, he shifted from P to D, then to R.

Izuku couldn’t help but watch the way Katsuki’s hands moved, how familiar he looked behind the wheel. Izuku didn’t have a car, so all of it, the rhythm, the control, looked kind of cool to him. He’d never really paid attention before to how the blonde looked in his own space. That day at Homecoming, he’d forced himself to look away. And even now, he was fighting the same urge, because Katsuki looked too good for it to feel normal.

Katsuki narrowed his eyes, adjusting the overhead mirror before finally setting his hands on the steering wheel. His foot pressed the accelerator, and the car rolled backwards.

Still, he didn’t say anything. Just focused on trying to leave the campus’s congested parking lot. Izuku’s thoughts itched with questions. Should he ask where they were going? Would that be weird?

He turned toward the window, deciding to look away before Katsuki noticed him staring. That was when he spotted familiar faces of classmates crossing the lot, people from art, others from past years. But what made his stomach twist was recognizing the same group from the carne asada.

The same ones who’d called him “Deku.”

The same ones from middle school.

He instantly looked away.

His body shifted slightly toward Katsuki, pretending to focus on the same direction the car was headed. His pulse quickened with the fear of being seen. Especially being seen with Katsuki.

As Katsuki finally pulled out of the parking space, Izuku tried to distract himself. Where were they even going? Why him, of all people?

Then, as if summoned by his thoughts, his phone buzzed.

[Inko]:

Where are you two going?

Perfect timing. This was his excuse to ask without sounding desperate for answers.

“Hey, um, Kacchan,” he began, eyes still on his lock screen. “Where are we going?”

Katsuki’s eyes stayed on the road. “Uh, we’re going to Riverside.”

Riverside? Katsuki, of all people, taking him to Riverside? What was going on?

Izuku was still processing it when Katsuki added, “Is auntie asking you?”

Their eyes met for the first time since leaving the parking lot. Izuku looked away first. “Yeah, she is.”

Katsuki just hummed softly, finally turning out of the school’s main exit.

Izuku texted back a quick reply to his mom before setting his phone on his lap. He sat up straight, watching the scenery blur past. The once-orange leaves were gone now, leaving the trees bare and pale under the early winter wind.

They drove down the hill they usually walked up and down, passing the familiar crossing guards and kids heading home. Apartment complexes, houses, small businesses, all part of their everyday Northvale.

And through it all, the silence between them was deafening.

Even after so many walks together, the quiet, this quiet, felt different now. He could hear everything. The low hum of the engine, the wind through the vents, the tiny bumps in the road that made his knee jolt slightly. The silence filled every gap in his chest, making his mind louder.

What were they going to do in Riverside? Why hadn’t Katsuki said anything earlier? Why not at school? Why wasn’t he explaining any of this?

Izuku didn’t dare ask.

Five minutes passed, the car taking a detour east to avoid the busy Ave. Honking cars echoed nearby, fading as they crossed into quieter streets surrounded by apartment buildings and highway turns. Izuku rarely came this way except when he took the bus.

His gaze drifted to the dashboard. The car’s front had two circular air vents angled down, and below them was a CD slot surrounded by old radio buttons. A faint display glowed on the panel.

This really was an early 2000s car. Was that why Katsuki owned so many CDs?

It even reminded Izuku he hadn’t touched his own collection since moving. He probably should soon, he decided.

“Do you buy so many CDs because of your car?” Izuku asked suddenly, breaking the silence. He pointed toward the CD insert.

Katsuki’s eyes flicked over. “Sort of,” he said, keeping his focus on the road.

Izuku noticed how enchanting he looked driving, focused, calm, the muscles in his forearms tensing in ways that made Izuku’s eyes look over once in a while.

“When I got the car,” Katsuki continued, “I didn’t feel like installing a Bluetooth system. I liked how it felt old-school. And around that time, I got into Spanish rock, so I just started buying CDs.”

“Ooh, that’s nice,” Izuku said, eyes returning to the window.

“There should be some CDs in there,” Katsuki said, reaching down to the small compartment below Izuku’s seat.

Izuku’s body tensed instantly. Katsuki’s hand brushed past his legs, close enough to...to make his face heat up.

“You can put one on if you want,” Katsuki added, his tone neutral as he focused back on the road.

“Are you sure?” Izuku asks, a little surprised at how unnaturally kind Katsuki is.

Katsuki shifted in his seat, glancing over briefly. “Yes,” he said simply, though Izuku couldn’t tell if it meant go ahead or stop overthinking.

Izuku reached for the compartment Katsuki had opened, fingers brushing through a few stacked CDs. There were maybe five of them, all Spanish rock. He pulled out the third one that caught his eye. The case was grey, framed in white, with a photo of three men on the cover.

“It’s called… ‘Duncan Dhu?’” he read carefully, hoping he didn’t butcher the pronunciation. “El Grito del Tiempo?” He looked up at Katsuki, half-nervous, half-searching for approval.

The car halted at a red light. Katsuki’s right hand covered his mouth while his left rested on the steering wheel, but Izuku caught the faintest curl of a smile at the corner of his lips.

“Sure,” Katsuki said as the light turned green. “I like that album.”

Izuku flipped the CD open, trying not to crack the case. The Spanish song titles caught his eye. He couldn’t help but wonder why Katsuki liked this kind of music so much. He’d actually been curious since Thanksgiving.

“Why do you like Spanish music so much?” Izuku finally said.

Katsuki blinked. “Um.” For a moment, Izuku’s chest tightened. Had he said something wrong? But Katsuki continued, “I guess ‘cause the instruments are good. I like how they use the guitar so much. English artists don’t always do that.”

“That’s the only reason?” Izuku blurted out.

Katsuki turned his head, brows pulling together. “…What? What did you want me to say?

“I just thought there was a deeper reason. You’re not the type to not have one,” Izuku said softly, looking down at the CD again.

“What the fuck does that even mean?” Katsuki snapped, his voice rising just a little. “You think you know me so well?”

Izuku flinched as his stomach dropped. He hadn’t seen that look since middle school, and it hurt in a way he wasn’t ready for. “No, wait—sorry, that’s not what I meant,” he rushed out. “It’s just… you’re hard to read. You always seem like there’s something more to you, so I thought maybe you liked Spanish music for a deeper reason. I didn’t mean to sound like I was assuming anything. I’m sorry.”

Silence fell again, heavier than ever. Izuku looked down at the CD in his lap, guilt pressing on his chest. He ruined it again, didn’t he?

“There is,” Katsuki said suddenly, “...another reason.”

Izuku’s head turned slowly. Katsuki kept his eyes on the road.

“I guess... I like this kind of music so no one understands me.”

Izuku frowned. “But… won’t people who know Spanish understand it?”

“They understand the language, sure,” Katsuki said, taking a turn. “But me? They don’t. They could know every language in the world and still not get me.”

Izuku’s chest tightened. That... sounded lonely, and not what he expected to hear.

“Well… do you?” Izuku asked softly.

“Do I what?”

“Do you want to be understood by someone?”

The question came out before Izuku could stop it, and he instantly felt the weight of it. He hadn’t meant for it to sound that intimate. But it was genuine. He’d always wanted to be understood too. It’s all Izuku has ever wanted.

But Katsuki was known to shut himself off from the world, for putting walls up.

And so, for Katsuki to say something like that… he couldn’t help but wonder: does Katsuki Bakugo want to be understood by someone?

Katsuki scoffed, a quiet, tired sound. “Even if I did, no one can. Or would. Or ever will. So no. I don’t.”

Izuku looked at him, and for a moment, he saw something fragile in the space between his words, something that didn’t match the roughness of his tone.

And a small part of him, one he didn’t dare name, wondered why couldn’t that someone be him? Why couldn’t he be the one to understand Katsuki Bakugo? After all, he had, or believed he had, understood him once, years ago.

Sensing that Katsuki wouldn’t want to discuss anything deeper, Izuku slipped the CD into the player. The small click of the disc sliding in was followed by a soft whirr. Katsuki reached forward and pressed a button, his fingertips brushing the dial before the car filled with sound.

The song began, a faint strum of guitar, mellow but rhythmic, followed by a low drumbeat. There was something nostalgic about it, something distant and warm, like a summer day you could barely remember. The singer’s voice came in soft, echoing slightly.

“En algún lugar de un gran país…”

Izuku leaned back in his seat, the Spanish words unfamiliar yet somehow soothing. The rhythm hooked him immediately, the melody strange and new compared to what he normally listened to.

“Olvidaron construir, un hogar donde no queme el sol…”

He tried to connect the words, pulling from the fragments of Spanish he still remembered from childhood. Home… sun… burn…?

“Y al nacer no haya que morir.”

Was the song talking about something deep? It sounded sad. Poetic.

Then the guitar picked up, sharper, faster.

“Y en las sombras, mueren genios sin saber, de su magia concedida, sin pedirlo, mucho tiempo antes de nacer–”

Even without knowing the full meaning, Izuku felt something ache in the singer’s voice.

“No hay camino que llegue hasta aquí, y luego pretenda salir…”

He didn’t understand every word, but the emotion was clear. Loneliness, maybe? Or loss.

“This song reminds me of ‘We Are the People,’ by Empire of the Sun,” Izuku said quietly, almost hesitant to interrupt.

“Haven’t heard it,” Katsuki replied, eyes still on the road.

Izuku wanted to keep the conversation going, to fix the silence that had stretched between them earlier, but he didn’t know how. The words stuck in his throat until curiosity finally broke through.

“So… what’s the meaning of this song?” he asked.

Katsuki reached toward the console and lowered the volume, the car suddenly quiet. He began speaking, not looking away from the road.

“The song’s a reflection of an ideal country, or like, a dream version of the world. But it’s about how that place doesn’t really exist. The lyrics talk about a country that can’t give people a good life, or education. That’s why it says ‘genios que no conocen su magia’ —people with talent who never realize it.”

Izuku would probably never get used to how fluent Katsuki was when he spoke Spanish. His voice carried a natural ease that almost sounded too good to be true.

“It’s isolated from everywhere else — ‘no hay camino que llegue hasta aquí’ — so people leave. Like the ‘jinete que se marcha’, the rider that leaves home. The mothers don’t even cry anymore. They just watch their children go.”

Izuku didn’t say anything right away. The meaning sank in as the car finally felt warmer from Katsuki turning on the heat.

“Here,” Katsuki added quietly, “sadness doesn’t have a place because living there is what’s sad.”

The car rolled forward again, the song resumed softly in the background.

“I didn’t expect the song to be so meaningful…” Izuku confessed. It kind of reflected Katsuki’s given-up desire to be understood, something Izuku didn’t expect, but it stung to think about.

As the road stretched ahead, the scenery outside started to look familiar. Riverside. He hadn’t seen it in years. Despite how much he’d always loved the view, Izuku never came here often. He didn’t like bothering his mom to drive all this way just for him to reminisce the past that was long gone.

But seeing the cliff of the town, that lookout over the Hudson River and New York City, made him want to take it all in, like breathing the city for the first time again.

Riverside was the most crowded city Izuku had ever been to. Its vibrant, urban rhythm mirrored Manhattan’s. It’s packed with color, voices, and a mix of languages that tangled in the air. Hispanic bakeries sat beside Korean shops, Italian restaurants, and family-owned groceries. At the edge of it all stood the tall cliff overlooking New York across the river, the skyline gleaming like a world of glass and light.

The sight Akio had talked about.

The sunset hit just right, gold melting into amber across the Hudson, skyscrapers catching the light in their windows. The sky faded from orange to violet, clouds drifting between the buildings. From this side, New York looked untouchable, like it belonged to another universe.

The cliff park was quiet for the season. Bare trees swayed above empty playgrounds and a closed public pool, wooden benches caressed by winter wind. The metal railing along the edge glimmered faintly in the fading sun.

Izuku took it all in like an exhale after holding his breath too long. He hadn’t been here since he was a kid. Not since those summer picnics where their mothers brought them here together, when they’d eat on picnic blankets and run around the pool until sunset.

A memory flickered, one he didn’t dare voice.

Katsuki suddenly leaned forward, scanning both sides of the street as he searched for parking. Izuku debated whether to ask what was going on, but Katsuki’s focused frown made him hesitate. He looked too determined, like interrupting him would break whatever this moment was meant to be.

Finally, Katsuki pulled into an empty space. The car settled into silence again. Izuku reached for his seatbelt as Katsuki stepped out, the cold air rushing in. Katsuki came around to Izuku’s side, watching him as he climbed out.

“You ready?” Katsuki asked, tone casual, as if bringing Izuku here without explanation was the most normal thing in the world.

”Um,” Izuku said, shivering as the wind cut through his blue sweater, “Ready for…what exactly? What are we doing here, Kacchan?”

Please, Izuku couldn’t bear this unknown any longer. He crossed his arms, trying to warm himself, his jeans doing nothing against the chill.

Katsuki nudged his head toward the park, hands deep in his pockets now, sleeves loose around his wrists. “Come,” Katsuki said, stepping off the sidewalk and walking ahead. He tilted his head slightly, signaling for Izuku to follow. “It’s been a while since we’ve been here.”

What did that even mean? It’s been a while since we’ve been here? …Okay… and? Why did that matter now? Why did he even care? Izuku wondered.

He didn’t ask, though. He knew better than to expect a straight answer right away.

They walked through the park, the chilly wind following them past rows of benches and drained fountains, until Katsuki finally stopped near one in particular, the one where, years ago, they’d carved their initials with plastic picnic forks. Izuku immediately recognized it but Katsuki just breezed past it.

Izuku looked down at it, memories rushing in. For a fleeting second, he hoped Katsuki would say something about it, but when he looked up, Katsuki was staring straight ahead toward the skyline.

He walked closer to the railing, elbows resting on the cold metal as he stared out at the view.

Izuku’s eyes lingered on him, a quiet sadness settling in.

They were only months away from walking out of each other’s lives forever. And now that they finally had a chance to fix things, tension and unspoken words were all that filled the days until then.

His legs carried him forward, until he stood beside Katsuki, mirroring his pose. Side by side, the view stretched endlessly before them.

“I haven’t been here in so long,” Izuku said softly. “I forgot how beautiful New York is…”The words felt too casual for the tension between them, but he said them anyway, reaching for something safer than the truth.

His two schools, his possible futures, were right there in front of him, somewhere beyond the skyline.

”So,” Katsuki finally said, “NYU, huh?” He glanced over, his voice low. He glanced over at Izuku.

Izuku looked over too, caught off guard. “Yeah… and you’re for Columbia. Your dream’s there too.”

They both looked back at the view.

“Are you excited?” Izuku asked quietly. “To actually do what you’ve always wanted? Engineering, and… everything?”

If Katsuki knew what he wanted in life, he should be excited. Izuku wanted him to be. But at the same time, some part of him didn’t. He couldn’t explain why. Or maybe he could.

Because if Katsuki went and lived his life, Izuku wouldn’t be a part of it anymore.

Katsuki hummed, thoughtful. “Hm. I guess I’m excited.”

Izuku nodded, pretending to understand. He wished Katsuki would just say what he really meant.

Then Katsuki spoke again, his voice quieter now.

“I just wanna move somewhere the ghosts of my past don’t follow me anymore.”

Ghosts…? Izuku’s chest tightened. Did he mean… him? Was Izuku one of those ghosts?

“Doesn’t that include me?” he asked before he could stop himself, his voice soft, but trembling with something raw and cornered.

Katsuki snapped his head toward him, standing up straighter, hands gripping the railing. His eyes widened.

“What?—Izuku, no—” He exhaled sharply, words stumbling. “I didn’t—fuck, Izuku—”
He pushed off the railing, stepping back.

If this wasn’t what Katsuki meant, then what did he mean? Izuku couldn’t stand the confusion anymore. It was now or never.

He turned toward Katsuki, one hand still on the railing, the other gesturing as his voice finally broke free.

“Can we talk about that? And everything since then?” His voice wasn’t soft this time. It carried months of restraint finally snapping. “I’m done pretending nothing’s wrong. I can’t keep walking on eggshells, guessing what you mean, what you feel, what we are. What we once were.”

Katsuki shook his head, hands up like he was warding something off. “Nope. We’re done. The sight’s the same as ever, isn’t it?” He let out a dry scoff. “Trip’s over.”

He turned, starting to walk away.

No. No, no. Izuku wasn’t letting him walk away.

He stepped forward, grabbing Katsuki’s hand.

“Kacchan, no—please.” His voice cracked, weak but pleading. “Can you just stop and answer me, for once?”

Katsuki froze. The wind stilled with him. He turned, eyes sharp, the cold slicing through the quiet between them.

“What are we doing, Kacchan?” Izuku asked, his voice trembling.

Katsuki blinked.“What are we doing…? Doing what, Izuku?”

Izuku shook his head, frustration rising. Was Katsuki really pretending not to know? After all these months, after all the tension, the hesitation, he was still going to act like none of it existed?

“Doing what?” Katsuki repeated, sharper this time, yanking his hand free.

Izuku’s breath caught. His chest tightened.
“Can you please stop pretending,” he said, his voice shaking but firm, “that you didn’t bully me in middle school? That I wasn’t being called names, called gay, while you stood there and said nothing?”

The words ripped through the air, echoing across the empty park. The cold wind faded. The skyline blurred into static.

All Izuku could hear was the sound of laughter, echoes of voices younger, crueler. His hand clenched. His throat tightened.

He was there again.

Back in that school.

Back where it all began.

Chapter Text

The apartment trembled with small, hurried footsteps. Water ran loudly from the sink, dishes clinked together, the TV buzzed in the background, and a little boy’s energy filled every corner of the room. 

“Mom, mom!” he called. “Tomorrow, can you make me Katsudon for lunch?” he asked, practically vibrating with excitement. 

Inko giggled, a smile spreading across her tired face. “Sure, honey. Why Katsudon?” 

“Because it’s delicious! And—and then maybe kids will be jealous of my lunch and talk to me!” he announced proudly. 

“Okay,” she said, warmth and worry mingling in her voice. She glanced toward her husband, but as usual, he didn’t react. She turned back to the dishes. “Izuku!” she called down the hallway. “Don’t forget to brush your teeth and get ready for bed! I’ll be there in ten minutes to kiss you goodnight!” 

“Okay!” he yelled back. 

As she put the dishes away, the T.V. reminded viewers about the last day of summer vacation, cheering on young kids while making teenagers dread the following day tomorrow. 

The end of summer introduced young kids to elementary school, a whole new world of faces, which meant new friends. Especially for Izuku, he was one of the excited ones. Shy, but hopeful. Always hopeful. 

Inko tried to match his enthusiasm, though the closer they got to the school the next morning, the more her worry returned. Daycare had taught her too much. The calls informing her Izuku didn’t have friends. The notes about him eating alone. The teachers gently explaining that the other kids “weren’t including him,” though they wouldn’t say why. Inko had never figured it out. Neither had Izuku. 

With her, Izuku talked nonstop. Stories, comics, little dreams, pointless things that brightened her hardest days. But around other children, he was quieter. And she feared elementary school would repeat the same pattern. 

When they pulled into the drop-off lane at school the next morning, Izuku was bouncing in his seat as Inko pushed her worry down. 

“Okay, Izuku,” she said from the passenger seat, “you ready?” 

“Yep!” 

“Have a good day, sweetie.” She scanned his face. All she saw was joy. 

“Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll be fine,” he said, slipping out of the car with a backpack nearly bigger than he was. “Bye Mom! Bye Dad!” 

He waved, but he didn’t look back to see his mom wave back. 

“That boy’s gonna get you calls again,” her husband muttered as the car rolled forward. 

“Don’t say that,” she said quietly. “I believe it’ll be different this year.” 

He chuckled. “As long as you don’t nag me to talk to him, I couldn’t care less.” 

Inko bit back her reply and turned to the window. 

Izuku walked into the school with nerves and excitement tangling in his chest. The classroom was bright and colorful, brighter than his own room, and he loved it instantly. 

“Hi,” the teacher greeted warmly. “Place your things in the back and choose any seat you’d like.” 

Izuku did as told and sat near where he placed bag, hoping that maybe, just maybe, someone might talk to him. 

No one did. Not when he smiled with big green eyes. Not when he offered his fun fact about loving superhero comics. Not at lunch, where he ate quietly while reading the little heart-covered note his mother had tucked into his box. 

No one did. No one approached him. And every minute that passed, the excitement he’d carried all morning dimmed a little more. 

By the end of the week, he’d spoken only to his teacher. 

When Inko asked, “Did you make any friends?” he lied with a bright smile: “Yeah! People think I’m cool so only a few have the courage to talk to me.” 

During the second week, the teachers announced a small field trip, a picnic at a nearby park to help the kids “get to know each other.” 

Izuku begged his mother to let him go. Maybe that day he’d make a friend. Inko hesitated because of the location, but his little voice, so full of hope and sincerity, made her agree. 

The class went to a small local park for a picnic just for their tiny group, two teachers, blankets, and simple activities. On the bus ride, Izuku sat alone. No one asked to sit with him. It was just him and his bag. Everyone else was too focused on the loud, bright kid who seemed to glow compared to the rest. 

His name was Katsu...Katsukon? Something like that. 

That kid got everyone’s attention without even trying. Laughing, shouting, and being pulled into games came naturally to him. Izuku had seen him the first week of school. He was impossible to miss. He noticed the way kids easily approached him, conversations at his table were louder than the thoughts Izuku was left alone to. Izuku watched him with a quiet admiration but had never actually talked to him. 

At the park, blankets were laid over the grass. Teachers kept repeating one rule: “Stay away from the river. Ten feet away, please!” 

Izuku sat alone again, picking at his lunch, as he nodded, surrounded by conversations that didn’t include him. But he quickly noticed something. The popular blonde boy was missing. 

“Yeah! You show them, Bakugo!” some boys shouted. 

Izuku looked toward the river and spotted Katsuki climbing a tree right at the edge. Izuku glanced back at the teachers; they were still busy comforting a crying girl. He took another bite of his lunch and looked again at the boy in the tree. 

Katsuki laughed up there, bright and fearless, as kids cheered below. He glanced at the teachers, still not watching, before trying to climb down from the branch he’d been sitting on. But as he stepped, his foot slipped. 

A sharp splash boomed through the air. Gasps spread like a wave. 

Before Izuku even understood what he was doing, he was running. The world blurred around him. His shoes hit the soggy riverbank, and cold water clung to his clothes as he waded in without thinking. 

“Are you alright?” Izuku asked, breathless, reaching out a small hand as water soaked him up to the waist. “Are you hurt?” 

He didn’t know when he’d moved, how his body suddenly had the courage to run so fast, especially for a body his age and his size. His body just moved on its own. To help a kid he wasn’t even friends with. As if something inside him refused to stay still. 

The blonde boy scrambled up from the riverbank, glancing first at Izuku, then at the teachers who were now rushing toward them. 

“I—,” was all he managed, not taking Izuku’s hand before the teachers pulled them both to dry land. 

They got a stern yet worried lecture. Izuku quickly realized most of it was aimed at the reckless boy he’d tried to save. He couldn’t help thinking the whole trip had only gotten himself in trouble. 

He turned to go back to his blanket when a small finger tapped his shoulder. 

“Hey,” the blonde boy said. 

“H-hi,”  Izuku answered. 

Katsuki looked down, then up. “A-about earlier… you—” 

“You were so cool!” Izuku blurted. “Sorry!” He flushed. “It’s just you looked so cool climbing that tree and I know me trying to help probably annoyed you b-but I’m really glad you’re okay!” 

Katsuki blinked. “Um… thanks?” 

Izuku swallowed. Great. He ruined his one chance at someone talking to him… 

“What’s your name?” He suddenly asked. 

“I-Izuku Midoriya. What about you?” 

“I’m Katsuki Bakugo.” 

So that’s his name, Izuku smiled. “Do you wanna be friends?” He asked a little too hopeful and definitely way too early for the first time someone’s approached him. 

“Sure,” Katsuki said, and that made Izuku smile like he had won a prize. 

They talked the whole ride back to school, knees bumping as they whispered about trees and rivers and how terrifying the teachers had looked. They compared drawings, favorite foods, dream pets, silly tricks. But as they reached the school, Izuku fidgeted with the hem of his shirt and Katsuki noticed. 

“What’s wrong?” Katsuki questioned. 

“D-do you really think we’ll be friends tomorrow too?” Izuku asked softly, like the words might break. 

Katsuki frowned. “Why wouldn’t we?” 

“I don’t know… People change their minds a lot.” 

Katsuki huffed like it was the dumbest thing he’d ever heard. “Not me.” 

Then, without thinking, he held out his pinky. “Here. A promise. So you don’t worry.” 

Izuku blinked at the tiny finger held out to him. “A… pinky promise?” 

“Yeah.” Katsuki shrugged, trying to look casual even though his ears were pink. “If I promise with this, I can’t break it.” 

Izuku brightened, smile blooming like the sun coming through a window. He linked their pinkies carefully, like it was something sacred. “O-okay. Then I pinky promise too. We’ll be friends tomorrow.” 

“And the next day,” Katsuki added. 

“And the next!” 

They nodded at each other, serious and proud over the tiny knot of their fingers. 

After that, any time either of them needed reassurance, before tests, before trying snacks at lunch for the first time, before talking to new kids, they held out their pinkies without a word. 

It became their thing. 

When they got home, both boys practically burst through their doors bragging about their new best friend. 

“Mom, mom,” Izuku babbled, “I became friends with this super cool boy named Katsuki—I mean Bakugo! And he’s so like me!” 

Inko asked questions, relieved, finally Izuku wasn’t alone. 

“Hi, I’m Kirishima!” 

“I’m Denki Kaminari!” 

“Hi, I’m Ochako Uraraka!” Izuku noticed she was very pretty. 

Then came Spanish. Their vocabulary was a mix of English and whatever broken Spanish they remembered, but they stayed glued together. 

“Katsuki es mi mejor… a-amigo!” Izuku said proudly. 

Katsuki laughed. “Y Izuku es mi amigo también!” 

From that day they met, they were inseparable. Izuku’s world, once so small, grew loud and bright. But every day, his time belonged mostly to Katsuki. 

Katsuki poured all his energy right back. He showed off constantly, little tricks, jumps, messy drawings, anything to make Izuku gasp. Izuku praised everything, and Katsuki basked in it. In return, Katsuki learned from him: how to listen, how to be gentle, how to think before he acted. 

Izuku admired Katsuki’s fearlessness. Katsuki admired Izuku’s heart. 

At one point, their mothers met during a school event, and they hit it off immediately. That meant the boys could finally hang out outside school too. 

“Let’s ride down this hill,” Katsuki said one afternoon, looking at a very steep incline. 

“Um… are you sure, Katsuki? Isn’t that dangerous?” 

“It’ll be fun.” He grinned, one foot on the pedal of his silver bike. Holing out his pinky, he said, “I pinky promise.” 

Izuku stared at that pinky like it was the only safe thing in the world. “Okay. Okay, I’ll do it.” He wrapped his pinky around Katsuki’s. “I’ll go with you.” 

Katsuki smiled, placing his hands on the handles. “Ready,” the boys prepared their bikes, “set,” Izuku gulped as Katsuki’s voice became louder, “GO!” 

Their laughter and gasps followed as their bikes propelled forward and down the hill. This time, them riding down went smoothly. Other times, Izuku’s bike would meet an unexpected rock and send him flying or crashing. Katsuki quickly learned how to take care of the boy, constantly carrying around bandaids in his pockets as Izuku cried on the floor. 

This was their friendship. Fun times at the park or riding their bikes in said park. Just them against the world. 

One day, Izuku overheard some girls calling their friends “-chan.” Curious, he asked why they added that to their names. 

“It’s a cute way to show you love your friends!” they said. 

So the next day, when Katsuki sat beside him and pulled out his crayons, Izuku stared intensely. 

“…What are you doing?” Katsuki asked, slightly uncomfortable. 

“Katsuki-chan…” Izuku whispered, then shook his head. “No, too long. Kacchan.” 

“...What.” 

Izuku giggled. “Do you like it?” Katsuki stared at him like he’d gone crazy. “I’m calling you that from now on.” 

“…Why?” 

“Because some girls said giving your best friend a nickname shows you love them!” 

Katsuki blinked. “And you came up with...’Kacchan’…?” 

Izuku nodded, bright. “Mhm!” 

“Okay then,” Katsuki muttered, trying to be casual. Izuku happily started getting his crayons out until Katsuki suddenly blurted out, “Deku.” 

Izuku’s head shot up. “Deku?” 

“Yep. I’m gonna call you that.” 

Izuku laughed. “What does that name even mean?” 

Katsuki stared straight into his eyes and said, “It means I’d be useless without you.” 

Izuku’s heart warmed instantly. Having a best friend like Katsuki meant everything. After years of being the quiet kid in the corner, having someone choose him, want him, felt like stepping into sunlight for the first time. 

But growing up meant new problems.  

Northvale didn’t have its own middle school, so every kid entering grades six through eight got assigned to different towns depending on where they lived. Katsuki was placed in a school ten minutes from his house, in a familiar town. Izuku, living at the far edge of Northvale, was assigned to a completely different school. A different town. A different bus. A different world. 

This wasn’t the only world Izuku was entering, however. A few months before Izuku graduated from elementary school, the one person that he needed in life yet had never really been there for him to begin with, walked out on him and his mother. 

His father. Not that his sudden removal from their lives was drastic, Izuku was used to his mom always caring about him more than the dad had ever looked or talked in his direction. He’d known that man would never be an actual father to him. But for him to walk out dealt a blow Izuku didn’t expect. Money became tight in a way Izuku had never imagined. Inko was drowning under bills and fear, and Izuku couldn’t ask her for anything. 

So, he silently prayed for something to let him go to the same middle school as Katsuki. It was impossible to do so though, because in order to attend a different middle school than the one you are assigned, you must pay a fee from the town you’d attend.  

Mitsuki, stubborn and big-hearted, offered to cover Izuku’s small transfer fee. She refused to let Inko’s pride or some bastard man’s abandonment tear the boys apart. Inko wanted to refuse, she didn’t know how she’d ever repay her, but Mitsuki didn’t let her. 

So the boys stayed together. 

The middle school they ended up in had better everything. Funding, teachers, clubs, which meant the students were wealthier than anything Izuku had grown up around. He noticed, of course. But he didn’t let it bother him.  

For the first month, they were inseparable. They clung to each other in unfamiliar hallways, sat together on the bus, partnered up for everything. Having Katsuki beside him made the world feel manageable. 

“Holy shit, Deku they have this,” Katsuki would say. 

“Woah,” Izuku breathed. 

“Deku, you and me, right? I’ll sign us up for this club.” 

“Yeah! Oh, and Kacchan, my mom wanted me to give you this for lunch today.” 

Izuku loved it. Truly. It was just them against an unknown world. 

But slowly, something shifted. Katsuki started getting attention. Lots of it. He dominated every PE game, aced every test, boys called for him, and girls called him “cute” and “handsome” in whispers that weren’t even subtle. 

Izuku wasn’t jealous, at least not in the way people might assume. He was proud. Katsuki deserved to shine. He always had. But when Izuku stood one point behind him on a test, no one cared. When he scored higher, no one believed it. When Katsuki wasn’t around, Izuku faded. The way he always had. 

That was okay, he told himself. He was used to being invisible. 

Except suddenly, he wasn’t.  

Whispers began following him when he walked beside Katsuki. 

“They’re always together… do you see that?” 

Izuku told himself he was overthinking. Katsuki never seemed to hear it. Maybe it was nothing. As long as they were still friends, nothing mattered but them. 

Until the day Katsuki was absent from PE. 

A blonde girl, someone Izuku vaguely recognized as one of Katsuki’s admirers, approached him with her friends. 

“Midoriya, right?” 

“Uh—yeah.” 

“Can we ask you something?” 

Izuku nodded, polite as ever. 

“Why are you always with Katsuki?” 

“He’s my best friend,” Izuku answered easily. What an odd question, he thought. 

They giggled. 

“Okay, but don’t you ever give him space?” 

“I-I keep personal space,” he said, confused. 

“That’s not what we mean. Isn’t he tired of you being everywhere he is?” 

“W-what…?” 

They laughed as they walked away, leaving Izuku frozen in the middle of the gym. 

Why confront him the one day Katsuki wasn’t around? He tried to shake it off. Tried to pretend it didn’t burrow into him. 

After class, as he changed and exited the locker room, the same girls waved him over. 

“Midoriya! Hey!” Fake sweetness oozed off them. 

He walked over slowly. 

“Are you sad your precious ‘Kacchan’ wasn’t here to change in front of you?” they pouted. 

Izuku’s stomach dropped. “What are you talking about?” 

“You seriously can’t be that stupid, can you?” 

He exhaled sharply. “What’s your problem with me? Did I do something?” 

“Oh, you did.” They tilted their heads in satisfaction. 

Izuku blinked, horrified. “What did I do? I’m sorry, I—” 

“You’re all over your little ‘Kacchan.’ It’s embarrassing and annoying. And... gross” 

“I—I don’t—” 

“Oh, come on,” one of them scoffed. “Everyone knows you’re gay.” 

The word hit him like being shoved off a ledge. That term that kids had just recently began to learn about was being thrown and aimed at him like a knife. Why they said that, he couldn’t possibly know, and those girls didn’t say anything but laugh in his face. 

Soon, rumors crawled through the school. Students twisted the nickname “Kacchan” into something dirty, something wrong. They called him girly. Said he was obsessed with Katsuki. Said awful and disgusting things about why he wanted to be near him. 

Middle school humor had already confused Izuku. Those awful jokes about friends’ mothers, the kind humor he and Katsuki had once commented on as strange and weird, and the competition to be the cruelest. But the “gay rumors” became the new, prized form of mockery. Something untrue sharpening itself into a weapon. 

But here was the cruelest part. When Katsuki was with him, everything was silent. Rumors slithered between lockers only when Izuku was alone. Katsuki remained completely unaware. 

As Katsuki made more friends, boys who admired his talent, girls who wanted his attention, he naturally drifted. Clubs. Group projects. Lunch tables. Classroom seats.  

Izuku told himself he didn’t mind. If Katsuki stayed close, the rumors would get to him eventually. Better distance than dragging him into the mess. 

Right? 

But then boys in Izuku’s class started whispering too. 

“’Deku’,” they would say, “you useless gay freak.” 

Izuku would whip around, heart pounding, only to meet cold, hostile eyes that warned him not to speak. 

And then Katsuki would return, oblivious. 

“You okay, Deku?” 

Izuku forced a smile so quickly it hurt. “Yeah! I’m alright, Kacchan.” 

He couldn’t tell him. He couldn’t risk ruining everything. 

As Katsuki drifted further, the bullying grew louder. Less hidden. Less avoidable. 

Walking alone in the hallways became dangerous. Boys would shoulder-check him hard enough to make his books spill. Some stuck their feet out to trip him just to hear their friends laugh. The bus rides were the worst, Katsuki stayed after school for sports now, leaving Izuku alone with boys who treated violence like a sport and Izuku like the ball. 

Izuku didn’t have much area to be beaten on, yet somehow these boys found new spots in his body to make a single punch, a single kick, hurt as if he was being punished for committing a crime. He didn’t know when he allowed this to happen, when he let someone get so physically close to hurt him, but each time he got hurt, he began to care less about when it began and more about how to cover his bruises from his mother, and most importantly, Katsuki. 

Katsuki noticed. Of course he did. Izuku’s bruises. The new way he carried himself, smaller, quieter, like a boy trying to fold himself into his own ribs so no one would see him. The way he avoided hallways and people. The way he flinched when someone walked too close. Katsuki kept asking if something was wrong.  

And Izuku kept lying through trembling smiles. 

“It’s an inside joke,” he said one day. 

“Some boys are just rough,” he said another. 

“Nothing’s wrong, Kacchan. I’m okay.” 

Anything to keep Katsuki out of it. Anything to keep him safe from the rumors. 

One day during lunch, Katsuki waved him over, “Sit with me,” with a smile.  A whole table filled with boys Izuku had never sat with, or rather never friendly spoken to. Izuku hesitated, then agreed, hoping that maybe sitting beside Katsuki would act like a shield. That maybe people wouldn’t dare say anything with him there. 

For a few minutes, it worked. Katsuki actually talked to him, really talked to him, for the first time in months. Izuku felt the warmth of it, the familiarity, like their old friendship was still somewhere under all the noise, and he savored it like a starving thing. 

Then one of Katsuki’s new friends spoke, his voice cutting through their conversation like a knife. 

“Yo, Katsuki, what’s up with you bringing this freak to our table?” 

Izuku stiffened. Please, he begged silently. Not now. Not in front of him. 

“‘This ‘freak’?” Katsuki repeated, irritation and confusion rising. “Why are you calling Deku a freak?” 

The boys laughed. “Dude, you don’t know?” 

Izuku’s heart thrashed in his chest. Please don’t. Please don’t tell him.  

“Know what?” Katsuki asked. 

“Don’t you know your little Deku is like head over heels in love with you?” 

Katsuki barked out a laugh. “What the hell are you saying?” 

“Oh, come on,” they pushed. “He calls you ‘Kacchan.’ And this freak watches you change in the locker room. He’s literally everywhere you go.” 

Katsuki turned toward Izuku. And Izuku stopped breathing. He felt naked. Exposed. Caught. Over something that wasn’t even true. Yet it was embarrassing and humiliating to be known for. 

Katsuki looked at him, briefly, searchingly, and Izuku wished he would look anywhere else. 

“He’s not like that,” Katsuki snapped. “You guys are idiots.” 

“Oh really?” another boy said. “Then why don’t you tell us why you call him ‘Deku’?” 

Katsuki paused. His mouth twitched. He faltered. A flash of something, shame, maybe, crossed his face. Izuku remembered. That day with crayons and childish honesty. That moment that had meant so much it hurt to think about now. 

“Oh?” one of them drawled. “Is Katsuki Bakugo hiding some gay feelings for his little Deku?” 

The air froze. And lunch ended without Katsuki ever answering, and without Izuku ever daring to bring it up. 

For days, they barely spoke. Katsuki sat with his new friends, swallowed by noise and laughter. Izuku sat at his same lonely table, pretending it didn’t hurt, pretending it didn’t matter. But distance only emboldened Katsuki’s friends. 

It started again three days later. 

“Hey, Katsuki,” one of them said loudly, glancing over at Izuku. “Be honest, is something going on between you and Deku?” 

Izuku stopped chewing. His vision tunneled as his heart clawed its way into his throat. He shut out everything except Katsuki’s voice. Please, Kacchan. Please defend me. Please don’t make this worse. Please, he begged silently. Please just shut them down. Please just say something kind. Something true. 

Katsuki scoffed. 

“As if I’d ever be gay. I don’t know why Deku clung to me like some girl. It’s getting annoying now, and gross.” 

The room didn’t freeze. 

Izuku did. 

Across the cafeteria, Katsuki’s eyes met his too late. Izuku’s heart cracked open in real time, deep and soundless. His mouth trembled. His stomach turned sour. Tears hit the table before he could blink them back. 

He ran. 

Down the hall. Through the crowd. Past staring eyes. Into the bathroom. Locked stall door. Knees pulled to chest. He cried until his body emptied itself of every last shred of hope. 

Because for the first time in their friendship, Izuku no longer saw Katsuki Bakugo. He saw a stranger wearing his face. Speaking with his voice. Hurting him more than any bully ever had. But as much as he looked like him, he was somebody else. As much as he talked like him, he heard someone else through. 

And after that, hell opened. 

The rumors spread like wildfire. 

Then the slurs. 

Then the religious condemnation. 

Then the fists. 

People who had ignored him before now shoved him into lockers just for existing. Someone ripped his backpack open one morning and dumped its contents into the urinals. Two boys kicked his ribs until he couldn’t breathe because he “looked at them weird.” A foot hooked around his ankle to send him sprawling in front of everyone. Boys leaned close just to hiss that he was dirty. 

Because slowly but surely, the rumors were being dispersed and twisted into “facts”. But as much as people announced them as facts, they would never be the truth. For the truth seemed to be buried by bullies and lied on by Katsuki. 

Every day became a countdown to the moment he could go home and collapse in his room and cry without anyone watching. A countdown to the nights he could spend alone, quietly spilling his tears and pain out to the moon.  

Izuku used to think that knowing Katsuki meant he’d always understand him. That if he listened carefully enough, he could decipher every mood, every sharp edge, every strange tenderness Katsuki hid from everyone else. But middle school showed him he didn’t know him at all. 

Izuku kept trying anyway. He kept showing up. Kept smiling, kept hoping Katsuki was just in a bad mood that week, or month, or year. But that “good” day never came. 

He vomited from fear, a lot. Enough that Katsuki and those boys once walked in on him throwing up in the bathroom. 

Izuku looked up, pale, scared, shaking. 

Katsuki stared back and said, “You can't do anything right, can you, Deku?” He laughed at him throwing up. 

Izuku wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Why… why are you being so mean, Kacchan…?” Izuku felt something twist painfully under his ribs, but he forced a smile and stepped forward. “Kacchan, I—” 

Katsuki stood abruptly, “Don’t call me that.” 

Izuku blinked. “Huh?” 

“I said don’t call me that.” Katsuki’s voice was sharp, like he wanted to cut the air between them before anything could grow there. 

“Kacchan… we’ve always—” 

“That’s kid stuff,” Katsuki snapped. The boys snickered again, and Katsuki flinched like every laugh was a match held to his skin. 

The boys walked away as the bell rang, but Katsuki stayed, despite them trying to drag them along. Izuku’s stomach dropped. He reached for Katsuki’s arm without thinking. 

“Did I do something? If you’re mad at me, just tell me. I don’t—” 

Katsuki jerked away like Izuku was a fire he couldn’t risk touching. 

“Just stop following me around,” he said. “You make things weird.” 

Izuku’s breath hitched. “Weird?” 

“You cling,” Katsuki muttered. “People talk.” 

Izuku stared at him, heart pounding in his ears. “I don’t… I’m not trying to make anyone talk. I just want us to be how we were.” He just needed to know why his best friend was suddenly bullying him. 

Katsuki scoffed, but his voice cracked at the edges. “There is no ‘us.’ Don’t make it sound like—” He grimaced. “Like we’re—” 

Gay. 

He didn’t say it. He didn’t have to. 

“So what?” Izuku whispered. “You’re embarrassed to be seen with me?” 

Katsuki didn’t answer right away. His silence was worse than any insult he could’ve thrown. 

Izuku swallowed the lump in his throat, chest tight. “…Do you think that’s disgusting?”  

Katsuki’s eyes flicked away. 

That was enough. Izuku felt something inside him go unbearably, quietly still. He straightened, blinking hard to keep the tears from spilling. “Kacchan--”  

Something inside Katsuki snapped. Panic? Fear? Pride? Izuku would never know. 

He shoved Izuku against the wall so hard the paper towel dispenser rattled. 

“Stop calling me that fucking name.” 

Something inside Izuku cracked so loudly he swore Katsuki could hear it. 

After that, Katsuki didn’t just join the bullies, he led them. 

Every shove. Every rumor. Every new lie. 

He said things no stranger could ever say because only someone who once knew Izuku could twist the knife that deep. The boy he had loved and admired more than anything had vanished. Or worse, had been there all along. 

The other boys followed his every move, every insult, every kick. The girls repeated everything he said like gospel. 

“Deku is a creepy stalker.” 

“Deku’s obsessed with Katsuki.” 

“Deku stares at boys.” 

“Deku’s sick.” 

Deku. 

Deku. 

Deku. 

The name that once meant you’re important to me slowly became a blade. Every time anyone said it, Izuku felt it carve deeper. 

When Inko questioned his bruises and the way his eyes carried exhaustion, Izuku lied. He told her he’d pushed himself too hard in PE. That things were fine. That he and Katsuki were still friends. 

He went to the hospital once for his vomiting. When he saw the look on his mother’s face at the bill, he forced himself to get better. To swallow it down. To keep quiet so she wouldn’t worry. 

But the worst wasn’t the beatings. 

Or the humiliation. 

Or the names. 

It was that Katsuki always looked like he wanted to go further. Hurt him more. Break something in him on purpose. 

One day, Katsuki looked him in the eyes and said: “You know, you should just take a swan dive off the roof and pray you’re born normal and straight in your next life.” 

Laughter followed. Katsuki’s cold eyes stared back at Izuku as he stood still, skin cold, and stomach hollow. 

For a moment, a very real, a very dangerous moment, he considered it. 

But every time he went home and saw his mother rebuilding their life alone, saw the love she poured into him, saw the art supplies she saved up to buy him… he couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t abandon her the way he’d been abandoned. Izuku took in hope she gave him, the love she gave him, as if they were pills prescribed by the best doctors. 

And yet, Izuku felt like even that hope wasn’t enough at times. He screamed so loud at times, each punch, shove, kick, elbow, felt like nothing compared to the pain in his voice. Because despite his lungs being filled with the tears he cried, despite how he screamed so loud, no one heard of him. And if they did, no one ever saved Izuku. 

Middle school became survival. By the last week of middle school, Izuku felt like a ghost wearing bruises. Actually, he wasn’t a ghost. Katsuki was. Because that boy slowly become someone Izuku couldn’t bear to miss, because at some point, he realized the person he missed was gone, absorbed into whoever was hurting him. It seemed that despite all their friendship, their everything, at least Izuku’s everything, was coming down to nothing. That there was a side to Katsuki Izuku never knew. 

Still, he needed answers. Just one honest conversation. One moment where Katsuki looked at him the way he used to. One talk, no screams or rumors. Just one talk. 

On the last week of middle school, Izuku finally gathered enough courage to confront Katsuki. Just one honest conversation. One moment of truth was all he needed.  

Izuku was able to get Katsuki alone that day because his friends were busy visiting teachers’ classrooms as Katsuki stayed behind. Izuku spoke up softly to Katsuki, asking to walk together to talk outside the gym. Katsuki didn’t respond at first, only staring at Izuku, until he finally stood up and Izuku followed behind him. When they arrived to the gym, Katsuki suggested they actually sneaked out to the entrance of their school’s field, suggesting that it’d be less suspicious to others. Izuku agreed.  

Outside on the field, the wind blew against their grey school uniform, and the sun had more warmth than whatever cold heart Katsuki had that day. Katsuki looked annoyed. Izuku looked like he was holding the last thread of himself together.  

Izuku took a deep breath before speaking.  “Why, Kacchan…” Izuku whispered, voice trembling. “Why did you leave me? Why did you help them? Did I do something? Why did you believe them?” 

Silence. Heavy. Unbearable. 

Katsuki’s jaw flexed. His eyes darted around, checking if anyone was watching, like Izuku was something dangerous to be seen with. 

Desperate for an answer, Izuku said, louder this time, “Why, Kacchan?!” 

“Because, Deku, I can’t be gay,” Katsuki hissed. “Can’t you get that?! They think we’re gay. You made it weird, it’s not my fault people think you’re gay.” 

Izuku wasn’t gay. He never said he was. And even if he was, why did that matter so much? Why were the facts others said, that weren’t true, things Katsuki recited like he believed them too? 

Katsuki kept going, words sharp with panic and pride. 

“I can’t be associated with that,” he snapped. “You do your stuff—I don’t care if they think you are,” Izuku flinched, “but I’m not ruining my reputation because of you.” 

“My… stuff?” Izuku whispered. “What stuff? Being your friend?” 

Like being friends was a fragile line, and Katsuki broke it, just as he had broken Izuku. 

Katsuki looked away. Something inside Izuku cracked. 

“Kacchan,” he said, voice small, “do you even hear yourself? Who are you? Why are you so different now?” 

Katsuki’s expression twisted like he wanted to take it back or wanted Izuku to stop asking. “Maybe I’ve always been like this,” he muttered. “You were just too in love with me to notice.” 

That lie, that filthy rumor.  Katsuki had let it sink its claws into everything. 

Into Izuku. 

Into them. 

Izuku swallowed hard, eyes burning. 

“We’re best friends,” he choked. “We were best friends. Why didn’t you defend me? Why didn’t you stop them?” 

Katsuki didn’t answer. 

“I’m not gay!” Izuku cried. “Neither are you! We’re kids! Why are we being labeled like this? Why is it wrong even if someone was?! Why would you hurt me for something I’m not?!” 

Footsteps echoed, Katsuki’s group appearing around the corner. Katsuki panicked. “Look, I gotta go,” he blurted, stepping back like Izuku was fire. “Just—don’t talk to me again, okay?” 

Izuku’s breath hitched. He looked at him, red-eyed, trembling, years of swallowed hurt finally overflowing. “Kacchan,” he said, voice breaking, “Them or us?” 

Katsuki froze. 

Izuku didn’t wait for an answer. He knew which one he would pick. He made his choice since they began middle school, millions of rumors ago, thousands of kicks and punches ago.  

Izuku turned, shoulders shaking, and walked away, not looking back even once. 

And Katsuki let him. He let him walk away.  

After that, Izuku never looked at him with hope again. Katsuki was everything Izuku had wanted but the damage was too deep. And so, as much as he loved him, Izuku decided to leave. To get away. To pack whatever pieces he had left. 

Izuku had thought of doing this before, but now, realizing Katsuki would never return to that sweet golden boy, he made up his mind. He knew he was a fool for continuing to love him as much as he did. He just didn’t really think Katsuki could be so cruel. 

He knew it was for the better. He knew it in his body, as bruises were less painful only because he was used to them. He knew it in his mind, trying to stop thinking of Katsuki as the boy he once knew. He knew it in his heart, which couldn’t take another hit from someone he still called “best friend.” 

Sure, it was pathetic to still call your bully that, but for Izuku, Katsuki is all he’s ever had. 

And maybe that’s why, when he begged Katsuki to choose “us,” he already knew he’d chosen the bullies too. Because it hurt less to be hurt by them than to be hurt by Katsuki. 

Humans can only withstand so much before they break. For Izuku, it took all three years of middle school. 

Over three years later, standing on a cliff in New Jersey overlooking the glittering sprawl of New York, the December wind cold enough to sting, the city glowing like a world neither of them belonged to, Izuku could still feel that day. 

That school. 

That last look. 

That moment he let a friendship he once treasured die in his own hands. 

That entire era echoed louder than the traffic below, louder than the hum of the skyline. It sat heavier than the winter air hanging sharp and brittle between them. 

And yet, Izuku had moved past it. Mostly. Some memories he’d forced into the deepest corners of himself, buried, blurred, painted over until they felt like dreams he didn’t want to remember. 

High school became his final, fragile chance to protect the small, stubborn light of hope inside him. Somehow, impossibly, that light survived. 

Friends from elementary school, people who remembered the soft, happy boy he used to be, pulled him back into warmth. Uraraka reclaimed “Deku” with pride, the first girl to step between him and anyone who tried to hurt him again. 

Freshman year: fewer than 15 incidents. 

Sophomore year: teasing became rare. 

Junior year: he finally breathed without fear. 

And through all of it, Katsuki said nothing. Just glances. Quick. Guilty. Unreadable. Six years of their unspoken history trapped in words neither was brave enough to say. 

Izuku carried rage that first summer before ninth grade, but he couldn’t let it fester forever. Katsuki had stopped hurting him. The pressure eased. Slowly, the anger decayed into something small and tired. Izuku stopped waiting for the apology he’d never receive. 

But the silence, that long, uninterrupted silence somehow hurt more. The things Izuku thought he healed from, the things he claimed were long gone in the past, were gone. The only thing that never healed was the betrayal and damaged friendship between Izuku and Katsuki. 

Six years without one real conversation. 

Six years of pretending. 

And tonight, on this cliff, Izuku finally snapped. 

“Can you please stop pretending,” Izuku said, voice shaking but steady, “that you didn’t bully me in middle school? That I wasn’t being called names, called  gay, while you stood there and said nothing? 

Katsuki’s jaw tightened. 

He looked anywhere but at Izuku. 

Silence. The same avoidant, suffocating silence from the last day of eighth grade. 

Izuku let out a short, exhausted scoff. “Of course. You’re quiet again.” 

“We’re not fucking pretending anything—” Katsuki muttered, weak, defensive. 

Izuku laughed, a tired, humorless sound that the wind carried off the edge of the cliff. “Really? This? This small talk that goes nowhere? This act of, ‘oh yeah, this is my childhood friend, the one who bullied me in middle school, but it’s fine because we’re neighbors now!’ You don’t think that’s pretending?” 

He remembered Uraraka’s surprise when she learned they used to be close. Todoroki’s careful hope. The way Izuku always defended Katsuki despite being confused by him. All of it felt like cards he was finally laying out on the table. 

His throat burned. Tears pressed hot behind his eyelids. He didn’t want to cry. He didn’t want to break. But he’d held himself together for so many years that the seams finally burst. 

“It’s driving me insane, Kacchan,” he whispered. “I don’t know what we are. And if we’re ‘just neighbors’, why am I terrified one wrong word will drag us straight back to those years?” 

His voice splintered. “Everything between us feels like a bullet covered with a bandaid.” He stepped closer, not realizing it. “So tell me,” Izuku demanded, breath hitching, “why did you bring me here?” 

Why this cliff? Why this view? Why him? 

Katsuki flinched like he’d been struck. “Izuku… can’t we just—move on? Or—fuck, that’s not—” He scrubbed roughly at his forehead, like his own thoughts were too loud. “Do we really have to talk about this? It’s been years.” 

Still avoiding it. 

“Exactly!” Izuku snapped. “It’s been years! And we still haven’t had one real, honest conversation!” 

Katsuki scoffed, brittle, defensive, cracking at the edges. “Fine. Sure. It is pretending. You want to talk? Then talk.” 

No, he didn’t get to hide behind that. “You confuse me so much,” Izuku said quietly. “Just this once… drop the attitude. Please. Tell me why you brought me here.” 

His voice trembled, raw, honest, unraveling. 

“What do you want from me, Izuku?” Katsuki fired back, pained. “What am I supposed to say? We were just fine a second ago. Why are you suddenly wanting to go back to the past?!” 

“I want to understand why you came up to me the day I moved in,” Izuku confessed, breathless. “That day changed everything. I’ve been anxious around you ever since because I never know how you’ll react.” 

The sudden kindness. The nickname change. The strange gentleness behind the roughness. 

“That’s what you want to know?” Katsuki asked. “Why I showed up at your fucking doorstep?” 

But something inside Izuku whispered, you want to ask something else. Don’t lie. 

“So?” Katsuki pushed. “Is that it? Or are you trying to ask something else?” 

Izuku didn’t reply. His heart was too loud. His mind too full. 

Katsuki snapped, “For fuck’s sake, you can’t just dump all this and then shut down again—” 

“Kacchan,” Izuku choked out, “can you please stop being a jerk and actually listen to me?” 

Katsuki looked at him, said nothing. Izuku took that as agreement. 

“I don’t even know what I’m trying to ask,” Izuku admitted. “I just… I couldn’t handle the tension anymore.” 

Katsuki sighed. “Well, that’s your problem.” Izuku glared. Katsuki sighed again. “Fine. Ask me whatever the fuck you want.” 

Izuku inhaled shakily. “Okay...why did you suddenly change so much?” he asked gently, sitting on the cold bench. 

Katsuki remained standing, his gaze quickly flickered to the view ahead of them then to their surroundings as he responded to Izuku. “I don’t fucking know.” 

“Kacchan. Be honest.” 

“I am being fucking honest!” Katsuki barked. “I didn’t have a reason, other than confusion. I was on my way somewhere when saw you and I was curious, so I walked over!” 

Izuku blinked. “That’s it?” 

“Yes, asshole,” he replied. 

Izuku sighed, his attitude wasn’t dropping. If anything, this is the most attitude Katsuki had given Izuku since moving.  “Okay, so then if that’s the case,” he began, “why did you bring up ‘ghosts of your past’ today? And again, why have you changed so much?” Katsuki just stared at him. “Curiosity can’t be the only reason, can it, Kacchan?” 

Katsuki rolled his eyes before saying, “I brought up ghosts and the past because you and I both know the more you try to escape your past, the more it hunts you down.” 

Izuku felt that in his soul because it was true. His past always seemed to somehow remind itself into Izuku’s world. What he hadn’t expected was for Katsuki to have experienced that too.  

“Okay,” Izuku stretched out, half unsatisfied, but he knew not to press further. “Then, tell me why you’ve changed so much?” He questioned that again because Katsuki still hadn’t answered that. 

Katsuki scoffed in disbelief, looking at Izuku, before sitting down on the bench too, finally joining Izuku.  “I know middle school was hell,” Katsuki muttered. “But when I saw you move in—fuck, I don’t know. I don’t fucking know. Okay? Can’t you just accept I’m trying? I’m trying to make things better. Trying so fucking hard not to bring up the past because I know how fucked up I was.” His voice cracked. “Why are our fake smiles suddenly a problem to you?” 

Izuku stared. Katsuki looked like he was breaking. Izuku said gently. “We can’t hide behind fake smiles anymore.” 

Katsuki’s voice cracked. “I feel bad, okay? For middle school. I’m sorry. Is that what you need to hear?” 

Izuku shook his head instantly. “No. That’s not it. I don’t care about that apology anymore. We were kids. We didn’t know any better.” He’d told himself that for years. Forced himself to believe it. To ease the ache. To keep going. “I don’t care about the bullying anymore. As long as it doesn’t happen now, I’m okay.” He inhaled shakily. “I just need to know—” He stopped speaking, he swallowed what he almost said. 

“You need to know what?” Katsuki demanded. 

Izuku desperately needed to know one thing, one real and important question, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask it. He knew if he asked, it could break him again. Because the last time they fought, they lost each other. And that fight was still burned in the back of his mind. 

Unable to resist, Izuku said, “Did you really mean what you did in middle school?” Tears ran down his face before he could help it, his voice breaking as they did. 

Katsuki’s voice hesitated. “Izuku—I—” 

“Before you say anything,” Izuku managed to say, smiling through his tears because he couldn’t help but feel pathetic. Here he was claiming he was over middle school and their past, yet the second he thinks of it, he pours out emotions he buried long ago. “It’s not the answer you’ll say that will haunt me. It’s the silence between us. The way my chest has been burning with words I’ll was never able to ask you.” Izuku said as Katsuki looked at him. “Sometimes it feels like my own thoughts punish me, like every doubt, every ‘what if’, every question carves itself into me until I can’t breathe.” He looked back at Katsuki, “So, I just want to know if middle school you meant everything you said. Just yes or no.” 

Middle school was a distant memory Izuku thought he knew, but now, it felt like a wound he swore healed was being ripped open again. Except this time, it’d receive a different treatment. At least, he hoped it would be. 

“No, I—” he looked away from Izuku, “I didn’t...”  

Izuku finally let out a breath he’d been holding for six years. For the first time, he saw the truth in Katsuki’s eyes. Not the bully. Not the stranger. He finally saw the boy he once knew. Izuku looked ahead at the city, eyes trying to take back the tears that escaped. His middle school self trembling inside as he let Katsuki's words echo in his mind. 

“You fucking liar,” Katsuki said suddenly, his voice low, which made Izuku’s head turn sharply. 

“What?” 

“You lied,” he repeated.  

“When did I lie?” Izuku asked, confused. 

Katsuki looked at Izuku, “You said you didn’t care about middle school. But here you are, breaking down when it’s mentioned.” Before Izuku could answer, he went on, “You say I’m hard to read, that I put up an act and hide behind it, but you do the same! You have for as long as I’ve known you.” What a bold statement to say to someone you walked out on, but Izuku didn’t say anything.  “So, for once, you put your fucking act down too and be honest with me.” 

Izuku gulped as if Katsuki had caught him red-handed. “I...Kacchan, you’re way off.” 

“Cut the bullshit, Izuku,” Katsuki said instantly, “Take your anger and all your emotions out on me for middle school, but stop fucking pretending like you’re over it.” 

“Kacchan, I don’t know where this is coming from, but I won’t do that to you. I’m okay now so—” Izuku said. 

“Fuck, Izuku! Just—stop that. Just stop hiding behind the lie that you’re okay!” Izuku flinched. “Just show me that you were mad—are mad—at me! Take out all the hatred and pain you’ve held for the past six years, for the name ‘Deku,’ for how I abandoned you and our...” he hesitated, “for middle school!” 

Izuku scoffed in disbelief, “I’m not gonna do that, Kacchan.” Katsuki stared at him, his eyes furrowed. “Okay, fine, I’d like to say I’m over the past but there are times it’s still not true. Okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?” 

Katsuki scoffed, frustration and exhaustion twisting together. “You act like everything is fine all the time!” Katsuki shouted. “The first time we talked again. Why didn’t you say anything then?! Why aren’t you mad at me for what I did?!” He stood up as he looked at Izuku with anger in his eyes. 

Izuku had been afraid of every word he has said to Katsuki since moving. Afraid of ruining whatever fragile thing was forming between them. Afraid of losing him again. Afraid of facing the past and his own confusion. And now, because Izuku decided to bring up the past, it was happening.  

“Kacchan, stop,” Izuku pleaded. “I’m not doing this with you—” 

“Fuck that! Make me feel bad! I know it is my fault!” Katsuki barked, voice breaking open. “All of it. Every day since you moved back, it’s like our whole history is crushing me. And you—you’re nice to me. You smile at me. You talk to me like I’m human, when I was the one who destroyed you. I don’t get it! How can you stand me? How can you be okay with everything?!” Katsuki expressed with his hands his emotional distress as he talked. 

Izuku stepped forward, breath trembling. “Kacchan… I forgave you a long time ago.” 

Katsuki froze. 

“…Why?” he whispered. “Why the hell would you? I don’t deserve that!” 

Izuku didn’t know how to explain that either. He’d asked himself that since freshman year and now since moving closer to him. Maybe he couldn’t let the good memories die. Maybe he refused to let the middle school version of Katsuki erase the boy who once held his hand while they crossed the street. 

His answer came out soft. Broken. True. The kind of answer that carried a truth he wasn’t even aware of. “Because I still care about you.” He surprised himself with how steady it sounded and felt to confess. “A-and I don’t think I ever stopped caring about you.” Katsuki stared like the world had tilted under him. Izuku continued, weaker now. “I don’t need an apology. Not because I forgave you, but because I know you’ve changed.” 

“And how the hell would you know that?” Katsuki rasped. 

“You call me ‘Izuku’ now...” he whispered. “You stopped calling me ‘Deku’. And...I was grateful. And as much as I want to know why, I didn’t want to ask. I just wanted that to be enough.”  

Enough proof that the Katsuki he once loved existed somewhere inside the boy standing before him. 

“Sure, there are times when I remember how much I despised you in middle school. That everything I went through was...hell,” he said, but he didn’t want to emphasize his suffering right now. He continued, “These last few years that we weren’t speaking had me dying to know your side of the story. To know whatever caused you to avoid me. I wanted you to hold your pride like you should’ve held me.” 

“Izuku—” Katsuki tried. 

“No, you said to talk, so here,” Izuku said quickly, wiping his eyes. “Yes, I wish I knew why everything happened the way it did, and that I could—could've—released that suffering instead of it letting it rot inside me as the years passed. It drives me insane how we pretended, and are pretending, that all of this is nothing!”

Izuku might’ve looked crazy, the way he kept rambling as tears spilled out and his arms and hands moved crazy as he expressed himself. But he couldn’t care anymore. He couldn’t bottle things up anymore.

“Do you realize how tried I was to keep carrying the weight of our friendship, until my body collapsed from defending you? You let me go,” his voice cracked. “And that hurt, Kacchan. All the love I held for you died each day in that school...” 

He stood up before continuing. “I couldn’t decide whether to go back to the first time we met or to forget you entirely. I had to not miss you because the person I missed wasn’t you anymore! I had to act like there weren’t years of history between us when someone mentioned your name.” 

More tears came down now. “And I’m sorry that I’m taking this all out on you now, you don’t deserve this sudden talk. So, I’m sorry, for taking today as the one chance I had to breakdown in front of you and be honest, and I’m sorry if I ruined our last year together in the same town.” 

Izuku finally stopped, quickly realizing how much he’d raised his voice. And silence followed for a moment. Izuku stared at Katsuki, who looked appalled, staring into him. Izuku looked at his ruby eyes, looking back at him. This is Katsuki. This is Katsuki during elementary school, and during middle school. This is the same Katsuki who could shatter him with a look. But instead, Katsuki seemed to just be listening to Izuku, waiting for him. 

“Izuku,” Katsuki finally said, “stop fucking apologizing. I deserve all of this so stop it. You said you forgave me, right?” Izuku nodded. “Take it back.” 

“What?!” Izuku asked, “No! No, Kacchan.” 

“Izuku!” Katsuki yelled. “Just fucking do it, you bastard!” 

“I won’t do that Kacchan!” Izuku said as he wiped his eyes with his sweater. “And before you continue, I want you to know I didn’t mean for this to become a fight. I just needed the tension between us to finally break.” 

It hadn’t. Not fully. But the words were out, they weren’t festering inside him anymore. It felt relieving that they were out. 

“We spent years pretending to be strangers,” Izuku whispered. “But… maybe now we finally said what needed to be said. Maybe that’s enough for today.” He tried to smile. It came out wobbly, apologetic. “We should go,” he whispered. “I’m fine now. I’m sorry for all this.” 

He turned toward the car. His chest shook. His heartbeat thudded painfully loud. He shouldn’t have said all that. He shouldn’t have broken like that. He shouldn’t have. But then, a hand grabbed his. A hand much firmer and warmer, but trembling just as much as his. 

“Izuku,” Katsuki said, voice raw. Izuku turned, breath caught.  Katsuki’s eyes were on him, piercing and soft and terrified, like he was seeing the truth behind Izuku’s shaking hands and his shattering voice. 

Katsuki swallowed hard.  “I...regret everything.” Izuku stared, his heart slowing as it waited for Katsuki to continue. “I truly do, a-and I—there's so much I wanna say—need to say—but I don’t know how to yet.” He shut his eyes as he said the last part, as if being this honest was unbeknownst to him, which it was. 

His hand remained on Izuku, sliding up from his hand to his wrist as Izuku stepped closer. “But I know I deserve to pay for what I did and as much as I hate saying all of this,” he inhaled shakily, “I don’t think a single day has passed since middle school that I look at you and see nothing but the damage I dealt.” 

Izuku looked at his ruby eyes, those eyes that held such emotions hidden behind a fire that built a shield from the world. “And every time I do, I really fucking wished I could atone for everything.” Katsuki said as his voice broke. “I mean it, Izuku. I really do.” 

Izuku absorbed every word Katsuki said, and even though it wasn’t the apology Izuku had dismissed earlier, this was the closest Izuku had ever seen Katsuki get to apologizing. It wasn’t guilt or obligation or fear. It was real. The kind that crawled up from a wound that never closed. A wound that two people, him and Katsuki, had. The kind Izuku didn’t realize he still needed until it was spoken. 

“You promise?” Izuku said as his own voice broke. He gently freed his wrist from Katsuki’s grasp. 

Katsuki’s face showed he was surprised, his eyes staring into Izuku seemed taken aback, and Izuku thought maybe he ruined it. But then his eyes became soft, but carried a hint of remembering. “I promise.” 

Izuku inhaled, his own arm rising instinctively as his pinky reached out to Katsuki. “You pinky promise?”  

Katsuki looked at Izuku’s trembling hand, as if the memories of when they were kids were also returning to him. He raised his right arm, his pinky extended as he softly said, “I pinky promise.” His warm pinky touched Izuku’s cold pinky, intertwining one another. 

He remembered. He remembered. He remembered. 

Tears blurred his vision again instantly. Before he could think, before he could breathe, his body moved on its own. He threw his arms around Katsuki, clinging like the ground might vanish beneath them. His arms were wrapping Katsuki’s neck, the first thing Izuku reached for. Katsuki froze and tensed. 

“You remembered...” Izuku whispered.  

 Katsuki’s body weakened, almost, finally letting go of his guard, and finally clutched him back. Tight, desperate, fingers curling into Izuku’s sweater and waist like he’d been waiting years for this. “How could I forget,” he muttered into Izuku’s hair as he returned the hug. 

For a small second, Izuku wondered something: had the two remembered to forget but were unable to do so? Pinky promises were something they did as kids, a super official promise, as Izuku used to say. So Izuku cherished that, and it seemed, Katsuki had too. 

He collapsed into Katsuki’s arms, eyes squeezed shut. Middle school flashes struck first, shouts, jeers, whispers. But then came the warmth of the past, the river, the walks, the teasing about baking, the waterpark, Homecoming, Thanksgiving, and the stretches of silence that felt like rediscovering a language he thought he’d forgotten. 

His hands gripped the back of Katsuki’s grey sweater, like letting go would make him lose this boy again. And as if every emotion in his heart wanted one thing, he whispered against Katsuki’s shoulders, “Kacchan, can we be friends again...?” 

Katsuki tensed once more, his hands stiffening on Izuku’s waist, but Izuku clutched harder. As a response, Katsuki held him tighter, like letting go would break something fragile, and replied in a low voice, “We can.” 

As pathetic as Izuku felt, something in him refused to pretend he wasn’t clinging onto every moment of their past, but especially, the happiness he once felt with Katsuki. He felt embarrassed lunging at him with a hug, that feeling becoming a warm sensation in his face and heart, but it felt like coming home from the worst trip ever. Like Akio had shared with him that week, it felt like Odysseus’s journey home.   

They stayed that way for a few seconds, stuck to each other as the world around them became darker by the seconds as the sun went down and the moon came up. 

Katsuki pulled back first, cheeks flushed, voice rougher than his response earlier. “Okay—get off me, moron.” 

Izuku laughed weakly through tears and stepped back, sniffling. Only now did the cold wind hit him again. He’d forgotten it was cold from everything that happened. 

“I’m sorry for all of this,” Izuku said as he wiped his eyes and then the chilly air did really hit his body, but Katsuki didn’t give a response. “Ah, it’s cold,” Izuku winced, “I should’ve brought a jacket…” 

Katsuki wiped his nose before crossing his arms. “You coward, can’t even handle a bit of wind.” Izuku rolled his eyes with a smile.  

“Come on,” Katsuki said, “let’s go back to the car before you catch a cold. I don’t want auntie worrying.” 

Izuku nodded, and the boys made their way together to the car, past the bench with their carved initials which they just sat on but neither said something about it, past the bare trees, past everything they revealed to each other. 

Inside the car, Katsuki turned the keys. The Duncan Dhu CD from earlier hummed quiet and soft through the speakers as Katsuki turned up the volume. As they pulled onto the road, Izuku looked out the window, his eyes catching a single leaf falling down from a nearly bare tree, carried off by a soft gust, letting go.  

He watched the skyscraper lights flick on across the river, one by one, like stars finally brave enough to be seen. But beneath the calm in the moment, something lingered. Izuku had confessed so much he didn’t even know he still felt. And for once, the two finally took in a breath that was true.  

Then it came to him that Katsuki too had confessed one big thing. He didn’t mean anything in middle school. Izuku held onto that. 

He wanted, needed, to believe Katsuki wasn’t against queer love. That everything he inflicted on Izuku wasn’t truly him, which sounds pathetic since it made Izuku suffer, but still. It mattered, because it meant that the boy he’d loved as a child wasn’t someone who would hate him for something he hadn’t even realized about himself back then but now he questioned if it was him. 

He remembered the way he hesitated to tell Katsuki about queer films he liked, only feeling safe mentioning them to Akio. He didn’t know why, but maybe now he did. 

Middle school hadn’t just hurt him. It had carved fears he still carried without realizing and covering up. The fear of being ridiculed by others again. The fear of disappointing his mother, which held him back more than anything. But also the fear of being seen. Truly seen. And so, Izuku let those words, the truth that came from Katsuki, settle into him like an anchor. 

On the ride home, the silence between them felt different. Lighter, even. No longer a loud silence, but as if their silence now was replaying their words and confessions in their minds, both quietly reflecting upon it. 

Izuku then realized something. There had always been a strange intimacy in the quiet between them. A haunted, tender familiarity of two people who once knew each other completely, so completely that even years of silence couldn’t erase it. Their past had lingered like ghosts in every room they shared. Not hostile, just waiting until they finally met again.  

Tonight, they finally acknowledged the ghosts. And like the leaf he watched fall, maybe, finally, they both let go. 

The story of them wasn’t finished. Not even close. But for the first time in years, Izuku and Katsuki were turning the page together.