Archive of Our Own

Katsuki frowns down at a wide rectangular package. He turns it over in his hands, All Might themed wrapping paper glossy under the glow of his desk lamp. His finger, tacky after struggling with tape for hours, catches the corner that wasn't folded quite right.

Katsuki heaves a heavy sigh. He gently places the package back on his desk and, bracing his left hand on his knee, pushes himself out of his chair. He intended to flop face-first into his bed, be done with the damn thing and deal with tomorrow when it came.

Instead, he's stuck in place. The package glares back at him in a way that sends a pang through his chest. It's not about the fucked up corner, not really. It's not about the uneven tape, or the messy cut of it all. It's not about what's inside. It's not even about Izuku. He doesn't really know what it's about, if he's being honest, but the urge to cry comes at him like he's supposed to know, and the frustration of that alone makes his eyes well up.

"Fuck," he sniffs, blinking hard as he clenches his fist. "Stop it, stop, stop."

Since graduation, Katsuki has seen Izuku a handful of times. Every single time they both clammed up, two deer in the headlights of their rapidly shifting relationship. Part of him had hoped things would get easier once the confession was out of the way. Wrong. Not only had Izuku accepted his feelings, he'd fully embraced them with a calm that Katsuki still doesn't know how to process.

He knows they both have the same question. Where do they go from here? 

He thought, after chickening out of a conversation with Izuku for the fourth time, perhaps his approach needed adjustments. So he changed it. He knows better than to wait for Izuku to say something, knows how hard it’s been, can't do that to him.

Tomorrow is Valentine's Day, and he's trying really hard to make it all worthwhile, and he doesn't know if he's doing any of this right.

Still, he has to try.

"Hey Kacchan." Izuku smiles sheepishly as he holds the door of the Midoriya home open for him. Katsuki responds with a grunt, hunching his shoulders to cover his reddening ears and averting his eyes like a blushing maiden from the 16th century. What the hell?

Granted, Izuku also has a heavy blush on his face, and he's clearly shaking with nerves when Katsuki brushes past him into the genkan.

We are both so fucking stupid, thinks Katsuki. He grips the very nondescript bag on his shoulder, praying that Izuku's dumbass doesn't mention it’s Valentine’s Day.

"Um, do you want… tea, or anything?" Izuku, having teleported to the kitchen while Katsuki was shoving his shoes and jacket off, frantically opens and closes cupboards like he's forgotten how to navigate his own house. "We probably have… something… or maybe I should be offering snacks? Do we even have the ones he likes? Shit, I should've gone to the store before this, why didn't I go to the store, I'm such an idiot…"

Katsuki walks into the kitchen to find him elbow-deep in deli containers. That's definitely not where the snacks are. "Izuku."

"Yes!" Izuku squeaks, whipping around.

"Relax. It's just me." Rich coming from him, but whatever. He wipes his sweaty palms against his pants as discreetly as he can.

"You're... ugh, you're right." Izuku straightens up, closes the cabinet, and takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry, I'm just..."

"Nervous," Katsuki finishes. 

"...Yeah." Izuku scratches his scarred cheek for a second before his eyes widen. "Not in a bad way, though! It's just... been a while since you visited my house.”

Oh.

Katsuki picks at a stray thread on his shirt, gut churning with another onslaught of anxiety. His bag and the package within it sit heavy as rocks on his shoulder.

Izuku, oblivious to the thoughts and feelings racing through Katsuki's body, coughs into his fist and looks away again. "And y'know… with it being Valentine's D—"

"OKAY!" Katsuki grabs Izuku's wrist and immediately begins pulling him down the hallway. There's no way he's beating me to this! "Your room, now!"

Izuku's face isn't catching a break, he's bright red again. He doesn't resist Katsuki's manhandling at all. "Room? M—m—my room?! Now?!"

"Don't make it weird! This is what people do when they go to each other's houses!" Katsuki flings the door to Izuku's room open and all but tosses Izuku inside. Despite how long it's been since he visited, he still remembers the layout of the place like the back of his hand.

"Not necessarily?!"

Katsuki kicks the door shut behind him, scowling purely because he doesn't know what else to do with his face. He unceremoniously settles on the floor, careful not to jostle the gift too much. "We did it all the time!"

"That was… that was different!"

"Like hell it was different!"

"It was! We were, like, toddlers! Now, it's…" Izuku stops himself.

Suddenly, Katsuki's heart is in his throat. "Now it's what?"

Izuku blinks at him several times. He presses his hands together and stares at them for a second. "I— It's— it's different because you're… We're… You're my…"

Somehow, for Katsuki, the anxiety before a storm is always worse than the moment of truth. There's nothing like the calm that envelopes him when everything he's prepared for finally gets to serve its purpose. Doesn't matter if it's war or… well, whatever this is.

The package he's ruminated on for weeks is more than a gift. Katsuki hopes… with this, Izuku will understand his intentions. With the confession on graduation day, with his promises, with how careful he's being. It can't communicate everything, but it's the right start.

Katsuki is determined to do this differently. Do this right.

"Your what?"

"My…" Izuku stutters. Then he squints. "…Hang on. You're gonna put me on the spot? When you don't know the answer either?"

Ah. Katsuki closes his eyes and sighs hard, a wry smile playing on the edge of his lips. How could he forget? He's dealing with the most annoying guy on earth. An annoying guy that has a point, and that's what makes him annoying.

Izuku continues. "You wouldn't even let me say Valenti—" Oh hell no!

"VALENTINE'S DAY, yep! Happy Valentine's Day or whatever! Just take it!" Katsuki grabs the package from inside his bag and shoves it into Izuku's chest. Izuku gasps, scrambling to hold it before it falls, and then…

Katsuki's heart pounds. It's quiet. Really, really quiet.

Izuku cradles the package in his hands as though he's afraid it'll burst into a million tiny feathers and fly away. His eyes are wide, glassy.

He's quiet for what feels like an eternity. Katsuki's pulse thunders in his ears.

"You wrapped this yourself…" Izuku sniffs, blinking fast. "And you found my favourite wrapping paper… from way back… That was so long ago."

Katsuki hums, cheeks burning. "Found it in the house. The paper and… what's inside, I mean. Was goin' through some… old stuff."

"So… I open this?" Izuku asks, turning the package over in his hand.

"That's kinda what you're supposed to do with gifts, yeah."

Katsuki waits patiently as Izuku tries to find the best way to unwrap the package without tearing the wrapping paper.

"This is…? No…" Izuku's curiosity immediately gives way to shock. His arms go slack for a moment as he stares at Katsuki in awe. "No way."

Katsuki picks at that loose thread again, face uncomfortably hot and heart squirming like a four year-old at the doctor's clinic. Whether it's from anxiety or giddiness or both, he has no idea. "Yup."

"My… MY BOOK OF HEROES!!" Izuku exclaims, holding his prize up for the world—or rather, for all his All Might merchandise and Katsuki to see: a large children's picture book decorated front to back with sprawling, colourful, lightly stylized illustrations of various old and mid-age heroes. It looks a little worse for wear at first glance, corners fraying, childish scribbles all over the hardcover and spine precariously held together by layers on layers of aged tape… but it was features like this that made this particular copy irreplaceable.

"How'd you even… I can't believe it, I thought I'd never… Oh, wow!!" Izuku's eyes sparkle like a second sun. Katsuki's own cheeks hurt just by looking at his smile. The book's mended spine cracks gently as Izuku eases it open, lingering on each page with reverence, trailing his fingers over the illustrations… both those published within the book, and clumsy imitations drawn by a much younger Izuku. There were notes, too, babbles of a child slowly learning how to read and write. Every bit of negative space, crammed full. It was a treasure trove of memories.

"These illustrations were always my favourite. Can't believe all my drawings survived this long… What was I even trying to write there?" Izuku huffs a laugh as he points at some gibberish on the margins of a page dedicated to Photosynth, the chlorophyll hero. Old timer, she's been retired about eight years now. (Katsuki fondly remembers how this page gave him massive bragging rights back then. No other kid in class knew what chlorophyll was. Suckers!)

"Probably some variation of 'so cool'."

"Probably," Izuku makes to flip the page, and suddenly pauses mid-way. Having gone through this book a thousand times with Izuku in their childhoods, Katsuki already knows what comes next.

"You know who's next," Izuku grins. "I haven't looked at it in years. It's gonna be so embarrassing."

"You're acting like I've never seen it before. I was literally there."

"Still!" There's something else in the way Izuku breathes in before he flips the page, the visible rise of his chest and whoosh of his exhale. Despite his lighthearted tone, something in him weighs heavy.

Katsuki can't help himself. His eyes prickle when they land on that achingly familiar illustration of All Might, drawn over both pages with such dynamism, like he's about to jump off them and come alive. Triumphant fist raised high, frozen mid-flight with the wind in his hair, his radiant smile is just as comforting now as it was when they were little.

So caught up in his own mind, Katsuki doesn't realize anything's amiss until a small drop of water hits All Might's face with a plip. He watches as it's followed by another, then another.

He lifts his head, watches quiet tears stream down Izuku's still-smiling face.

He lets him have this moment, though his chest quivers at the sight. It's long overdue, this reunion. And, well… that's Katsuki's fault, for taking so long to muster the courage to give it back.

"You know…" Izuku mumbles, pressing a sleeve to his cheek. He turns another page. Another All Might spread decorated lovingly by his biggest fan, this time accompanied by a few drawings from little Katsuki as well. "When I gave you this book… It was around the time you stopped talking to me."

Katsuki feels lightheaded with how fast the wind exits his lungs. He knows this story, he was there, but hearing it from Izuku… his chest burns with how much that terrifies him.

But that's why he's here. That's why he did this to begin with. To show Izuku… that he was ready to listen. That he… cared about him, cared about every part of him, wanted to share in this pain with him.

So he keeps his eyes on Izuku, painful and scary as it is, and hopes they convey a fraction of what he feels: tell me everything you thought you couldn't tell me before.

"I didn't know why you went from being mean sometimes but still letting me be around you, to… ignoring me altogether. Or, I guess… the more accurate answer was, I didn't want to accept the reason." Izuku absently rubs a spot on the page where the texture of crayon is prominent, a drawing of a cat with a cape and the words ‘Cat Might!’ scribbled beside it. With a soft, humourless laugh, he shakes his head. "I was… in denial, I guess. I don't even remember how many times we flipped through this book together. I thought… If I gave you this, one of our favourite things, that you'd… maybe you'd stop being so upset."

Katsuki brings his hands into his body, clenches his fingers so hard it hurts, but he doesn't look away. "Wish I'd seen that for what it was."

"No use thinking that way," Izuku's gaze comes up to meet his, achingly gentle. If Katsuki were any younger, he would've been enraged at the thought that he was being pitied. Now he understands how sympathy and pity are different. Over these past three years, Izuku's sympathy went from inflicting the worst kind of sting to… a graze of something smooth and harmless. It's in Izuku's nature to care—Katsuki both curses and adores this about him. "We were so little, neither of us fully understood what was going on. For the record, I was super happy that you took it. I wasn't upset that you kept it, either. If anyone was gonna keep it safe, I knew you would."

Katsuki lets that roll in his mind for a moment. He sighs. "Y'know, before you gave it to me, my folks had gotten me a copy."

Izuku's eyes widen, genuine surprise on his face. His younger self really hadn't considered the possibility, and he evidently never revisited it. "Wait, they did?"

Katsuki frowns. For some stupid reason, this memory still irritates him. "I wasn't happy about it."

"Why not?"

Katsuki gestures blandly to the book in Izuku's lap. No use for secrets anymore. "It wasn't yours."

Izuku raises an eyebrow.

"I know it's dumb." Katsuki absentmindedly rubs the scars on his right arm, feeling out the right words to use for what he's about to say.

"Reading it myself, it wasn't the same. It pissed me off. I tried to…" He trails off, cringing at himself. Gosh, he’d been such a little asshole. "Tried to give it back a few times. Chickened out. Couldn't look at it without thinking of you, so I just… shoved it in a box and tried to forget about it instead.”

Izuku's eyes fall back down to the book, contemplative. Katsuki remembers clearly where he'd stored it, because he'd stare at that spot every so often, wanting but unable to reach in and look at the book. Looking at the book meant thinking of Izuku, little Izuku who had so clearly just wanted his shitty friend back, who was still waiting for Katsuki to come around.

"One day, I… dug it out." Katsuki continues, voice low. He traces the lines on Izuku's All Might themed rug with his eyes, back and forth. "That day. Sludge Villain."

"Oh."

There's more. There's so much more. Katsuki wishes he could untangle what's in his mind, his memories, his heart and bring it directly to Izuku, leave it all bare and honest, but as he is right now… he doesn't know how. He can barely make heads or tails of what he feels, beyond the fact it's the most intensely he's ever felt about anything. Beyond the urgency to make sure Izuku understands, to be understood by him. Beyond the… longing to be close to him, know him, whatever that means.

His brows pinch together. This shit is hard.

Even if he fucks it up, he has to try. He didn't come this far to not try.

"You–" His voice cracks on the first word, great. "You saved my life that day."

Izuku's eyes widen. He waves his free hand in between them. "No, no, I was just… I was… somewhere I shouldn't have been. I could very well have made it worse."

"You saved my life." Katsuki repeats. This isn't the first time they've breached this topic. Katsuki knows about Izuku's encounter with All Might beforehand, he knows Izuku blames himself for the villain escaping and for Katsuki getting attacked.

All of that doesn't matter. Because that day, what Katsuki saw at his weakest, immobilized and choking for air, was a terrified Izuku running towards him when no one else had. It enraged him, disgusted him, awed him, confounded him for months to come. He didn’t know how to carry all those feelings.

"I was pissed, obviously, but more than anything, I… hated that you were my hero, right then. Hated that I couldn't deny it."

"It's pretty simple," Izuku mumbles, face pinched in a hint of irritation he's hiding very poorly. "All Might was the one who saved you. I know he says I inspired him to act, but there were enough heroes on the—"

"Fuck, just—get it in your thick head that I’m serious about this!”

Izuku's mouth zips shut. His expression softens, albeit not entirely. "…Sorry, Kacchan. Keep going."

Katsuki breathes in, breathes out. Most annoying guy on earth, and I happened to fall in— …ugh. "After the attack, I ran after you, yelled at you, ran home. Couldn't shake how weird I felt. I don't know why I thought of the book, but… well, it was in a box in the garage at that point. I took it back to my room. I kept telling myself I did it so that my parents wouldn't find it."

Katsuki eyes the book, eyes suddenly painfully dry. "I knew I'd have to give it back at some point. You gave it to me to borrow, not keep. But the longer I held onto it, the harder it got to…" He pauses. "…I guess, in my head, giving it away kinda became something like giving up. At first I thought it was about giving up my pride… It wasn't."

Izuku absently flexes his hands as he listens, a gesture to relieve cramps. A bird sings somewhere near his window.

"It was about you," Katsuki murmurs. Despite himself, he reaches a hand out to brush one of the fraying corners with his fingers. "Somewhere in there, I was afraid I'd run out of excuses to be a part of your life… something like that. Doesn't make much sense, saying it out loud, but… that's how it feels. After graduation, I couldn't hold onto it any longer. I needed… I need you to know that."

It's funny how, in a way, the book ended up representing the same thing for both of them. A silent acknowledgement of their past, a quiet desire to keep the thread between them intact. Even when they were at their worst, the thought of getting rid of any lingering remnants of Izuku in his room, his house… felt unbearably wrong. He still has a shoebox under his bed full of broken keychains and rocks, little things he doesn't have the heart to throw away.

Sometimes, back in middle school, Katsuki would catch himself thinking about how Izuku would react if he were to give the book back. He used to vehemently curse those moments, curse Izuku for ‘getting in his head.’

Funny how life works.

It's quiet for a moment. Izuku studies him and Katsuki thinks he looks a bit lost.

Did I fuck it up? Why isn't he saying anything? It kinda sounded like I was talking out my ass. Does he not believe me again? I'll kick him if he doesn't. Isn't it obvious what I'm trying to say? Maybe I'm actually not bad at this and he's just really dumb.

As though Izuku somehow heard Katsuki's increasingly frantic inner monologue, a genuine smile breaks over his lips, slightly frayed but still sincere. He seems to have decided something, as he lifts his gift and hugs it to his chest.

"I'm glad you didn't give up," he says warmly. Then his eyes flicker away, and Katsuki suddenly remembers what day it is. "I'm so happy to see it again. I didn't expect this at all, it's really… special. Thanks for, uh… sharing. With me. And—! I think… I have something that belongs to you, too!"

"Hah? What?" This whiplash is hurting his brain. He'd comment on Izuku's weird half-dismissal of him, but he's stuck on how often he still struggles to get a read on him. Was that… was that a good response? It wasn't bad, at least. Was Katsuki too vague? Or maybe it ventured into territory that's still sensitive for Izuku? That could be it… Then again, Izuku is worse than him when it comes to feelings, contrary to what most people might think at first glance. Katsuki is one of the few people on earth qualified enough to say he learned that the hard way!

Now the guy's shuffling around in his closet. He's pulling out a cardboard box.

"What the hell are you looking for?" Katsuki calls over Izuku's muttering. 

Ignored. Fine. Not like he was interrupted in the middle of trying to have a heart-to-heart. Katsuki waits patiently, though he's not happy about it.

"Aha!!!" Izuku kicks the box back into his closet, all but throws himself back to his spot on the rug at Katsuki's side, and extends his arms to reveal in his grip… a plain black notebook.

Katsuki squints at it. It looks really familiar. Actually, that's pretty much how all his school notebooks look. It even has the colorful tabs he uses, neatly pressed between pages in (almost) perfect lines. He's pretty good at that, keeping his notebooks neat and colour coded and stuff, though it became much harder to keep up with his injuries. Judging by the slightly wonky alignment of the tabs, this notebook was post-injury.

"Why do you even have this?"

"Kacchan," Izuku scolds. "You seriously don't remember? Actually, maybe it's a good thing you don't remember…"

Katsuki deadpans. "The fuck are you talking about?"

"Math class, you gave it to me after I got sick so I could catch up."

Is he dumb? "Why are you giving it to me now? We literally graduated."

"You're so—" Izuku drops his arms and looks at the ceiling like Katsuki's the crazy one. "Okay, let me try to explain this better."

Katsuki feels like he's earned the right to be a little awkward after putting himself out there, so he says, "Would help."

"The one and only time you let me borrow your notes…” Izuku looks sheepish all of a sudden, and ohhh wait a minute—

"The one you lost? So you were lying, I knew it!"

Izuku winces. "Sorry. Just…" He hands Katsuki the notebook. "Just open it."

Flipping the cover open, Katsuki is immediately confused at what he's looking at. It's definitely his notebook, that's his handwriting, but there's black marks and shadows of letters and numbers Katsuki definitely didn't write. He flips a few pages. Not all, but several pages have them. Almost like—

"Your pen bled through?" Katsuki squints suspiciously. "That's why you lied? That's—" He stops himself.

No. He was about to scold him again, but that's not… how he wants this exchange to go. Clearly, Izuku thought this was important enough to bring up and return. In a practical sense, it's not useful at all. He's long since been done with this class. But in a symbolic sense…

"You… were you afraid I'd get mad?" Katsuki tries, sounding unsure even to himself.

"I mean…" Izuku scratches the back of his head, looking anywhere but at Katsuki. "I ruined it. I swear, I didn't mean to… I had a bunch of… sticky notes on it. I don't know how I didn't realize.”

Katsuki eyes him. "I'm not mad about it. That still doesn't explain why you lied."

Izuku lets out a deep sigh. His shoulders go slack, a bit like resignation. (Well, thinks Katsuki. He's the one who started it, so finish it!) "I don't know what came over me, if I'm being honest. You were working so hard, learning how to write with your left hand, coming to class while juggling rehab and all these other things." His face pinches, as if he doesn't like the image his mind just recalled. "I was trying to support you—"

"You were supporting me."

"—But," Izuku barrels on, "I was… Don't take this the wrong way, okay?"

Katsuki's stomach jolts. "Okay?"

"It was the first time in so long that I felt like… We felt like… friends. Like real friends." Izuku's eyes become glossy again. Katsuki recognizes this look. Shame. "I didn't… I didn't want to jeopardize that somehow. Like, maybe you'd get this back and regret lending it to me. It was easier to say I lost it.” 

Slack jawed, Katsuki is in no place to be surprised. He's had similar thoughts. Hearing them laid out so plainly, though… that's new.

"I wouldn't have… for the record," he mumbles. "Regretted lending it to you."

Some of Izuku's colour returns. He gives Katsuki a little smile, and Katsuki thinks he understands why Izuku gave it back now. "I know."

Katsuki feels like he should say something more, before the conversation ends. He scrambles for the words. "It's kinda… I can make out your handwriting, and now that you know how I…" he clears his throat, "how I feel, I guess I can say this…" God, is he really doing this? "Your handwriting pisses me off, but I also… like looking at it."

If he were being totally honest, he'd say that seeing his handwriting next to Izuku's—faint as it is—is doing something to his heart. You goddamn corndog.

Izuku seems to agree with that self-assessment, because he's giving him a blank look.

"Uh…" Katsuki stares back.

"Really? You…" Izuku's eyebrows furrow in concern. "You… like my handwriting?"

"I didn't say all that."

"You said you like looking at it, that's practically the same thing."

"No it's not!"

Unexpectedly, instead of arguing on, Izuku's hint of a smile turns into a grin, into a laugh. A real laugh from him is rarer than it ought to be nowadays, and if Katsuki decides to bask in it for a second, no one can blame him.

"To be honest," Izuku absently flips through the ink-blotted pages of the notebook, smiling faintly still. "I… forgot it was Valentine's Day until you asked me if you could come visit."

That stings a little, but it's fair. This is very new to them both.

"I've… well, you already know. I've never done this before. Both of us were so busy right after graduating, we didn't get to talk it through at all… But I also have to apologize. A lot of that is my fault."

Katsuki gives him an exasperated look. Izuku holds a hand out.

"Just listen. I say a lot of it is my fault because I got in my head about it… about everything. Graduating, the… the embers, what I was going to do, you, how… um…" His cheeks flush pink, the same way they did earlier today, and Katsuki's own face immediately heats up in response. What's going on? "I didn't know what you wanted this to look like."

Ah. Katsuki rubs under his eyes, wary. "Yeah, I don't blame you. But it's equally my fault for not… y'know."

"Trust me, Kacchan, now is a much better time. It wouldn't have gone well if we tried to talk it through any earlier." Izuku's tone leaves little room for debate, and that says it all. "In any case… Even after you messaged me about coming over, I didn't know whether I was going ahead of myself thinking it had something to do with… the date."

"That was definitely the point."

"Okay…" Izuku sighs in poorly concealed relief. "Okay… good… that's good!"

Silence.

"We're really bad at this," says Izuku.

"Speak for yourself," sniffs Katsuki.

Izuku leans against the edge of his bed, which means he's shuffled just enough into Katsuki's space for their knees and shoulders to touch. Katsuki may as well still be in high school with how his heart is beating out of his chest.

"Since we're talking about it…" Izuku carries on, pulling his knees up so he can rest his arms on them. He tilts his head to look at Katsuki, hair framing his eyes in the way Katsuki realized he really liked in their third year.

(He realized a lot of things in very quick succession that year, actually, after months on months of asking himself why his heart pounded and his stomach fluttered whenever Izuku was near him. It's painfully clear in hindsight, sharp and defined since the war, but, well… Katsuki had been facing similar physical symptoms around this boy for most of his life. It was hard to make sense of. Still is, but maybe for the first time in his life since he was three, he feels like he's on the right track.)

"This… can look and mean all kinds of things, huh? What do you—"

"Everything," Katsuki replies immediately, perhaps a bit nonsensically, but it's a familiar promise.

Izuku seems to find his decisive enthusiasm funny for some reason, there's a bit of humor in his voice when he speaks again. "You did say that. But I want you to tell me what that means."

"Everything means everything." Katsuki pauses, then adds, "So long as it's just us."

"I don't have eyes for anyone else." And Izuku says that with such a sudden intensity that it sends a jolt up Katsuki's spine. Like he's offended Katsuki thought to say that at all.

"You better not."

"If I'm being honest," Izuku smiles to himself, a bit ruefully. "I never have. I don't think I ever will."

Katsuki's heart beams at his answer. He can't help it when his eyes soften up. "What d'you want me to call you?"

All of Izuku's prior confidence disappears into thin air. "What, like… pet names?!"

Katsuki rolls his eyes so hard they almost roll out of his skull. "No."

"Then what? Like b—" Izuku abruptly stops himself, hand over his mouth.

"What?"

"Boy… boyfr…"

Katsuki realizes what Izuku's trying to say a second too late.

"Kacchan," Izuku's big googly green eyes are bigger than ever. He looks equal parts mystified and terrified. "Does this mean I'm your b… boy…"

"You can't even say boyfriend?!" The moment the b-word leaves Katsuki's lips he's slapping his hands over his own mouth.

"You said it! You just said it!" Izuku stands up and starts pacing. "Boyf… boyfrie… That! Is that what we are?"

"Who's your boyfriend?! Who's in there?" Inko's voice suddenly calls from the hallway, and it dawns on them how little attention they'd been paying to the time. She must've gotten home just now.

They look at each other, eyes wide.

Shit.

1 Year Later

When Katsuki finally makes it back to his shitty apartment complex, he parks his shitty old car and just… sits there.

The weak winter sun, too high in the sky for his liking, casts light through the driver's seat window. It musters just enough heat to warm his right shoulder. It's not enough. His arm throbs, a dull pulse. Sure, it feels a little like being stabbed by a hundred tiny needles, but he barely feels it.

Couldn't he have done paperwork or something? They just had to send him home early for this?

He knocks his forehead against the top of the steering wheel, sighing heavily. He knows he's been pushing it, but progress and pain are a package deal.

Look, Katsuki isn't trying to rush anything, least of all with the recovery of his arm or his heart. Since his injuries, he's been as meticulous caring for himself as he is with everything else that matters to him. He dutifully keeps up with his physiotherapy schedule (and that includes rest!), he's never missed a single check-up, he's been slowly working his muscles back up to a state where they can handle more blowback and fine-tuning of his quirk.

He knows it'll never be the same as before, and that's fine, he's just… trying to be as efficient as possible.

The version of Best Jeanist that seems to just perpetually hang out in his subconscious now materializes in his mind’s eye. He repeats, with the same cadence and verbiage as Real Best Jeanist this afternoon, I know it has been slow. It is frustrating, having such a clear vision of your goal and nevertheless coming to grips with how long it will take to get there. Every thread in your tapestry of life has a purpose, it is you who must bear the tedious task of weaving them together.

Whatever the hell that means.

As if on cue, his arm throbs again. They seriously couldn't have just given me some freaking paperwork!?

He tosses his seatbelt off and gets out of the car. He's home, nothing he can do about it now.

What can he do, then? He mulls this over as he enters the complex, grumbles to himself as his legs beeline to the mailroom. Might as well check the mail, sure. And get a head start on dinner? Drop by UA to see Izuku? Watch reruns and mope on the couch? He'll never admit it, ever, but sometimes he really just wants to do nothing.

He jams his key into the mailbox.

(Nevermind that the urge to do nothing has been stronger than ever lately, which is ironic considering he was just sent home for doing too much. Bakugou Katsuki is NOT depressed!)

Wait. There's a package here. What's—

Oh.

Oh!

Today's Valentine's Day! It's a welcome little jolt to his system, seeing that his gifts arrived in one piece. Maybe this day can be salvaged yet, if he can do something for Izuku…

Izuku.

They moved in together several months ago, under the guise of it being efficient and convenient even though they technically don't need a guise (in all honesty, both Izuku and Katsuki still stumble over what to call each other. Izuku still can't say b… boyf… the b-word without stuttering). Katsuki has gotten closer to Izuku in ways his pining high-school ass could only long for. But… that proximity means he also gets a front row seat to Izuku's struggles.

For all the ways Izuku let him close, Katsuki came to recognize some of the many ways Izuku held him at a distance… and some of the many ways Katsuki did the same.

They had a fight about it, actually, a month into living together. Katsuki had asked him, with barely concealed ire and a hint of misplaced betrayal, why Izuku was stubbornly refusing all hero work that wasn't volunteering, temporary, the shortest of short-terms. Fresh out of school, Izuku predictably got caught in a flood of work offers. People approached him with… a little too much zeal. Some still do, though many gave up after a handful of his overly-polite, increasingly concise rejection emails.

Katsuki had accused him of holding back. Told him he was placing all his worth in those embers. It was a low blow. Izuku accused him of being dense, said he fixated on the embers just as much as Izuku.

They went in circles until they were both exhausted, lying side-by-side on the ground, in sync for the first time in the past three hours: there has to be an easier way to talk to you. They were well-versed in each other's language, but they weren't skilled in speaking it themselves.

It was kind of funny, the way Izuku showed up the next day with an armful of crap, from books like The Psychology of Successful Relationships to DVD boxes of Reddit-approved romance movies.

And Katsuki, well, he gives as good as he gets. Being near Izuku so much more often, it's easier to mentally record what kinds of things Izuku is most receptive to. If Izuku needs Katsuki to use his words, he'll use his words… even if it makes his face scrunch up and his eyes water at the height of his emotions. Katsuki has faced beasts far more vicious than embarrassment. Izuku always looks stunned, still unused to such open displays of trust. He'll inevitably return the next day to regale Katsuki with half a notebook full of research or something, his own little warm-up ritual before he attempts to confide in Katsuki for real.

He's a little weird, but Katsuki enjoys that about him, so it's okay.

Lately, though… he's been worrying Katsuki. More than usual, that is. It's not hard to pinpoint the reason.

Four months ago, the last embers of One For All faded.

Neither of them were blindsided by this. But knowing and experiencing are two very different things. That day left a pit in Katsuki's stomach that has yet to go away.

He has… an idea. A lofty, ridiculously expensive, frankly insane idea that's been in the works since his second year at UA. If—no, when he pulls this off, everything… everything will change. His heart, though terrified at the sheer scale of it all, is determined to make this a change for the better. Even if it means defying the impossible.

Katsuki feels the weight of the rectangular paper package in his hand. Izuku will have to do with smaller, markedly less insane gestures for now.

Although… this one is, like, suspiciously small. Katsuki immediately furrows his brows.

He tucks the package under his arm and peers back inside the mailbox. Empty. He takes a look around the rest of the mailroom. Also empty, save for the trash bin overflowing with junk mail. He drops by reception to check if they might be holding something (the rare day he's back early enough that they're still open, ha). Nope. No more packages.

Huh.

He can tell, without opening it, which item out of the multiple things he ordered is in his hand right now. It's definitely not the figurine. It's also definitely not the new set of notebooks. It just had to be the one that makes a really stupid standalone gift. Come to think of it, it's a stupid gift in general. Why did he get this?

He glares at it as he waits for the elevator. Nope, this cannot be the thing Izuku gets from him this Valentine's Day. But the thought of showing up empty-handed…? Also unacceptable. He'll stash this away somewhere, see what happened to the other gifts and reorder them or whatever so he can give them all together. He needs to prepare something else in the meantime.

Katsuki heaves another exhausted sigh as he makes his way to his apartment door. It's in the back of his mind, he knows—he knows that if he had just checked on those damn packages a few weeks ago, made sure they were actually en route, he could have avoided this.

These past four months have been a blur. He's been restless, it's true. Sick of feeling like he's stagnating, not doing enough, even though he understands that's not the case. He knows healing isn't linear, knows some days will be worse than others but fuck, he's…

Izuku's stricken face flashes into his mind, the expression he made when he told Katsuki the embers were gone, seared into his memory. He never wants to see that look on his face ever again.

Katsuki vehemently shakes his head. He doesn't need this right now. What he needs is a plan.

He's got roughly four and a half hours until Izuku gets back. Katsuki's covered in dirt from when he ate shit at work earlier, so he'll shower and then run to the market, pick up whatever he can find and cook a bunch of Izuku's favourites. He can salvage this. Absolutely.

He turns the lock and enters the apartment.

"Hi, Kacchan!"

Goddammit.

"Why… Why are you still here?!" Katsuki yells, appalled, pointing an accusing finger at him for good measure. 

The accused has no idea why Kacchan is mad at him for being in his own house. "Well…" Izuku scratches his cheek. He sits at the living room coffee table, laptop open, still in his fucking pajamas! "Apparently there was an accident in one of the chemistry labs, huge mess. Wasn't a big deal at first, 'til it turned out a student with a quirk called Contagion wasn't wearing his specialized safety gloves when it happened, and since his quirk is touch-activated…" Izuku mimes an explosion with his free hand and makes a bwshhh sound. "You get the idea. They essentially had to quarantine the school for a few hours. Thankfully no one was harmed. They wouldn't tell me what kind of, uh… specimen? Went loose, but it turned out to be nothing super dangerous. I was scheduled for a late start today anyway, so they told me to just stay home."

Katsuki blinks, speechless.

Izuku smiles brightly. "And you're back early!" Then he frowns. "Why are you back early?"

"…Askin' the wrong guy." Katsuki undoes his shoes and relays the events of this morning to him anyway, because he asked. His eyes linger on a well-worn pair of red shoes tucked off to the side. He can't help but look at them, every time. Izuku hasn't worn them in a while now. At this rate, they'll collect dust.

Katsuki steps away from the genkan, noticing Izuku's questioning gaze on his arm. Man, he's been sighing a lot today. "It's aching a bit right now, but I'm fine."

Izuku moves his laptop away and gets up. He gently, wordlessly pushes Katsuki onto a chair, bringing with him what Katsuki recognizes as one of their heat packs. Katsuki's eyes flicker to Izuku's hands. They must have been aching today.

Izuku wraps the heat pack around Katsuki's right arm. "I'd just reheated it, before you came in," he explains.

Katsuki's muscles slowly unwind, as much as they can. It still hurts, but it helps a little. "Thanks," he murmurs, endeared, slumping forward and rubbing his head on Izuku's shoulder. Izuku presses a kiss to his temple in response.

"You know…" Izuku starts, tentative, after a moment of quiet. "Aizawa-sensei and the others gave me an offer the other day."

"What kinda offer?" Katsuki mumbles into Izuku's shirt, more limp and tired than he should ever be at 1 PM. He feels Izuku's fingers weave through his hair.

"…They want me to try running a class of my own… this summer."

Katsuki blinks back to alertness at this, lifting his head to look at Izuku directly. "Huh."

"Yeah."

"And…” Katsuki squints at him, reading the worried line of his brow. “You think that it's too soon."

Izuku smiles a little, sheepish. "Isn't it?"

"Dunno. You've been a teaching assistant for a while." Katsuki straightens his spine, stretches his back a little. It pops. Ugh. "Not like they're asking you to design your own curriculum or something."

"No… I'd be using last year's." Izuku looks down at his lap. fiddling with the heat pack. They'll have to microwave it again. "Can I tell you something?"

Questions like that always spell trouble, coming from Izuku. Katsuki eyes him warily. "Yeah?"

Izuku continues in a voice so low, Katsuki has to lean back into his space to hear him. "It’s weird. Everything around me feels like it's changing too fast… meanwhile I'm not changing fast enough.”

Katsuki's arm twinges.

"What, like, you can't keep up?"

"More like…" Izuku cringes, rubs his hand over his face. "This is stupid."

"Not stupid." Katsuki pinches his freckled nose, too softly for any real admonishment. He takes the heat pack Izuku's kneading to death in his hand and replaces it with his own. "Just say it."

Izuku stares at their hands. There's a hint of resignation in his exhale. "Too scared of being stuck in the past… too scared of leaving the past behind. Everything's been about moving on, for the last… nearly four years. The past is the past, and all that. But there're things I need to remember, I'm… I'm the only one who can remember them." In a much smaller voice, he says, "Kacchan, where does that leave me?"

Katsuki watches his face. Rhetorical question. Izuku's eyes take on that faraway, glassy look.

In the past, Katsuki might've felt alarmed, unnerved, desperate to shake him out of it. He might have tried to force an ultimately one-sided conversation, because he knew Izuku wasn't going to do it himself.

Now, he lets Izuku feel his feelings, doesn't race to change them. Squeezes his hand back just as hard.

He thinks about those red shoes at the genkan.

Izuku's been slowly phasing out his old wardrobe, replacing it with stuff that's more like "what an adult is supposed to wear," his copious collection of basketball shorts and nerdy t-shirts relegated to pajamas and the occasional workout. UA doesn't even have a formal dress code and yet, ever since he started out as a teaching assistant, he's insisted on wearing a black suit and tie every day. Shovels all his other clothes in the dresser, lets his favourite shoes for so many years collect dust like they're ancient artifacts. A thing of the past. Everything about this… it makes Katsuki's skin itch.

Why is he trying so hard to play a part? Be anything but himself? Because that's what it is, at the end of the day, isn't it? He's scared of showing up as he is. Doesn't know what to do with all the confidence and hope people place in him. Doesn't think he's earned teaching his own class this summer. He's scared, so he wears a suit and dress shoes and keeps it all where it can't have implications of any kind, so he can look like he's moving on with everyone else.

Sitting here in thoughtful silence now, Izuku's wearing one of his old ones. That dumb shirt that says "sleep shirt." Katsuki thinks, not for the first time, that he will never take Izuku's trust for granted.

He makes up his mind.

"You know what day it is, right?" Katsuki slides out of his chair.

Something like panic flashes in Izuku's eyes. "Happy Valentine's Day! I, uh… didn't know what to get you, wasn't sure how you'd wanna celebrate or if you'd wanna celebrate at all, and I've been kind of a downer lately, sorry—"

"What?" Katsuki, who'd gone back to the entryway to grab the abandoned package, pauses mid-reach to furrow his brows at him. "The fuck are you apologizing for? You know that doesn't bother me." Just like Izuku to worry about this, dammit, stop stewing on useless things!!

"Right… okay." Izuku nods to himself. Katsuki knows when Izuku's eyes land on the package because he suddenly sits up straighter, the freaking nerd.

Katsuki doesn't speak until he's sat back at the table.

"You've been changing your wardrobe up a lot, huh?"

Izuku doesn't say anything to that, looking away.

"Remember, in third year, I was making fun of your Christmas shirt that said 'Christmas shirt' and you said, if you could have a shirt for every holiday of the year, you would?"

"That's—" Izuku raises his brow at the sudden topic change, but he's not about to ignore an out when gets one. Class 3A's winter holiday party is, despite everything, one of his favourite memories from those last two years at school. "Yeah. You told me wholesale warehouses and custom printing websites hate to see me coming. That was pretty funny."

"Obviously. And yeah, well, thought I'd help you along instead of mocking you, 'cus I'm so generous." Katsuki shoves the package at his stupid grinning face. He's definitely caught on.

"You know, once you get this going, we can't stop until we have every holiday."

"Figured that was the goal."

"And we have to match."

"Now you're pushing it."

Katsuki wills the pink in his cheeks to go down. God, he knows he has valid reasons for getting this, but it's still seriously dumb.

Izuku opens it. Unearths the pink monstrosity shaped like a t-shirt. Unfolds it. Holds it up.

And stares.

And keeps staring.

"Uh… Kacchan?" Izuku looks like he's about to cry.

"What?!" Katsuki's heart jumps into his throat. What the hell else did he do wrong this time?!

Izuku presses his lips together.

Oh.

He's not about to cry, he's about to laugh.

"Take… take a look at this, please." His voice wavers with the effort it's taking him to hold it in. Katsuki quickly goes from nervous to irritated. He snatches the offending item from Izuku's hands.

"If there's something wrong with it, just fuckin' spit it out instead of—"

Katsuki's sentence ends abruptly as his eyes go wide in horror.

There, right there on the front in big black lettering that was supposed to say 'Valentine's Day Shirt'. The most miserable printing error Katsuki has ever fucking seen in his life.

Valentine's Day Shit

Katsuki gapes.

"There's no way."

Izuku can't take it anymore, he starts howling.

"There's no fucking way—" Katsuki scrambles for the packaging as Izuku laughs his ass off, re-reading his order and sure enough, he spelled 'Valentine's Day Shirt' correctly. "You've got to be KIDDING ME!"

"It— It says— I can't breathe—" Izuku literally can't speak with how he's gasping for air. He tumbles out of his chair, holding his stomach. "My stomach—hurts! Hahahaha!"

"Can you—!" As wonderful as it is to hear Izuku laugh, Katsuki's face is too hot with embarrassment and couldn't ONE thing have gone right today— "Now I gotta fight this shitty website for an exchange—"

"NO!" Izuku snatches the shirt back fast enough to rival One For All. "No way!!"

"Oi!"

"It's mine!"

"You— You want to keep it?!" Has he lost his mind? He can't wear this!

"Kacchan." Izuku wipes a tear from his eye. "I haven't laughed this hard in so long."

And it hits Katsuki—he's right. When was the last time?

"Listen—" Izuku holds the shirt up on his torso, misprinted words facing Katsuki in all their glory. "Who else is ever gonna have a shirt like this?"

Katsuki tilts his head. He has a point.

"And you've gotta admit…" Izuku aims the brightest smile, a hundred suns' worth of sunshine directly at him. "It's pretty fucking funny."

Katsuki holds his frown in place, if only to be petulant, but…

"Yeah…" His lips twitch, betraying him. "It's really fucking funny."

"I'm never taking it off."

"I'm never appearing in public with you ever again."

Izuku's smile softens. It's a look Katsuki hasn't seen before.

"I'm serious about us matching."

"No way in hell!"

Halfway in the shirt already, he laughs.

The next time Katsuki comes back from work before Izuku, Izuku's black dress shoes are exactly where they were the night before, and his red shoes are nowhere to be seen.

2 Years Later

Why is it that he's always dealing with some kind of bullshit on Valentine's Day?

Granted, last year went relatively smoothly. Maybe that was a fluke after all. Katsuki distinctly remembers wondering if it'd be back to business as usual next year.

What is it this time, you ask? Is he injured again? Does he have food poisoning? Did someone's quirk turn him into a cat for a week?

Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight, felled by the common cold! His stupid boyfriend had the gall to say this to him before leaving for work one day, closing the door just quickly enough to avoid the cushion flung in his direction. Katsuki would later get a text that read 'love you!', because Izuku was too busy running for his life to say goodbye properly. His fault. Katsuki isn't felled by anything, least of all a stupid cold.

At least, that's what he thought, until about a week and a half later (okay, it was kinda bad). He's back on the field, catching up on what he missed (he hates being off course) and dealing with Hatsume's fervent texts about a malfunction with some tech they're developing for the suit (thats a couple million yen down the drain and another six months added to the project completion date, fantastic!) when he realizes what day it is.

"—and then he was like, dude, it's literally Valentine's Day! And I was like, you're asking the wrong guy for relationship advice. You couldn't be asking a wronger guy." Kaminari, his patrol partner for the day, yaps a mile a minute beside him. Katsuki's half paying attention (and still keeping up, 'cos he's just that good) while trying to keep his still-a-little-sore nose from running too much in the February cold. At the words 'Valentine's Day', he stops in his tracks.

"What'd you just say?"

"I mean…" Kaminari gestures to himself, "I appreciate the sentiment, but I'm not exactly known for luck in love—"

"No, before that!"

"Valentine's Day?"

"Yeah, that's today?"

"Uh, yes? Why?"

Katsuki slaps his forehead. "Of course it is!"

"You forgot?" Kaminari pats his back in what's supposed to be comfort, but all it does is aggravate Katsuki further. "It's okay, you know Midoriya won't mind!"

"He won't mind, but that doesn't mean I can just— ugh!" Katsuki checks the clock. Half an hour 'til lunchtime. He starts walking faster, for no other reason than to blow off some nerves. "This stuff is the bare minimum." Isn't it?

Izuku likes gifts. He likes keepsakes and knick-knacks and things he can hold, display, collect. Especially when those things have memories attached. Katsuki has always known this about him. He loves how excited Izuku gets when he receives something he likes. Being attentive to things like that, doing more of it—that's important, isn't it?

Kaminari raises a quizzical brow at him, matching his quickened pace. "Well… I get what you mean, but that's a little intense for what's supposed to be, like… a fun holiday."

"I just need—" Katsuki interrupts himself to help an elderly lady put her grocery bags in her little wheeler.

"Thank you, dear!"

"Yup—I need to stay consistent. Valentine's Day is…" Katsuki cringes at his own words. "It's a thing couples do. I don't want him to think I don't…"

Kaminari deadpans. "He's literally obsessed with you."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Look, dude—" Kaminari places a hand on his arm and comes to a halt by the edge of the sidewalk. Katsuki, begrudgingly, obliges. "I wouldn't be saying this if it was the first time, but you've mentioned feeling like this before."

Katsuki's eye twitches. He crosses his arms, but doesn't say anything.

"It's great to acknowledge when you've messed up, make up for it, whatever. But with you, it feels like you're constantly trying to make up for something. Have you considered the possibility that you're the only one keeping score?"

Katsuki sniffs. "For someone with no 'luck in love', you sure have a lot to say about it."

"I'm single, not stupid!" Kaminari laughs good-humoredly. "But seriously, I think he's happy getting to just… live life with you, y'know? Gift or no gift, Valentine's Day or no Valentine's Day. That stuff can be important, yeah, but not any more important than what you do every day."

Those words play on loop in Katsuki's head.

It's true, he knows it, it's something that really only comes up the way it does with Izuku—Katsuki spends an inordinate amount of time keeping score of his own perceived failures. Amending them, setting them right. Katsuki didn't need Kaminari to tell him that.

Everything's a slope, a constant fight with gravity. Why would relationships be different? If a little bit of extra effort keeps him on top of it, why wouldn't he put that in? One excuse always becomes two, becomes three, becomes four, until suddenly you're buried under all the mistakes you've made, you have no idea how to even begin breaching the topic, the love of your life goes and runs away, another war's about to break out, he left you nothing but a shitty fucking letter—

Hm.

There was a time, before now, where singleminded obsession was the only thing he had to get him through hell. His and Izuku's foundation, beat up as it was, needed tender, meticulous repair.

But it was never weak. He knows how much stress it takes to crack, he caused plenty himself. What it takes to shatter, he hopes he never finds out.

…Yeah, maybe that's not the healthiest thing to be thinking about on a semi-regular basis. Definitely not the kind of spiral he wants to have about his four-year relationship, which is going… really well, to be honest. He needs to get a grip. Probably.

When lunchtime comes around, it's immediately cut short by an emergency call. The next few hours are spent helping first responders snuff out a fire and rescue civilians at a nearby office building. People really need to stop plugging their space heaters into extension cords and cranking them up to full power!! One of the people Katsuki saves during the incident almost plummeted to their death from standing on the edge of a rickety-ass balcony! Way too close of a call, but he'd take a vigorous handshake and a stream of wailing gratitude over the alternative any day. He chewed them out about it, which definitely gave bystanders more footage to paste all over social media. Whatever.

That makes no casualties, a few minor injuries, quite a bit of property damage…

By the time he's done with all his paperwork, the sun's nearly set. That means…

"Shit!" Valentine's Day! He vaults over his desk and all but runs to change out of his costume. Most stores are open until 8 PM. If he's lucky, he may be able to grab something. It really doesn't matter what it is at this point. Flowers? Nah. Chocolate? Nah. Maybe something practical?

He's just flown out the door when he gets the idea. Something Izuku mentioned last week! How Katsuki remembers it through the fever-induced haze he was in that day, he has no idea. In any case, there's an office supply store nearby—perfect.

He makes it there and inside in record speed. 7:48 PM. He's the bane of these people's existence right now.

"Pointer sticks," is the first thing he says when he reaches the counter. The high schooler at the register is staring at him with wide eyes.

"H—Huh?"

"Pointer sticks! For presentations, powerpoints, whatever! Tell me where they are! Now!"

"Yes sir! Aisle— Uh, aisle seven! B—By the whiteboard erasers! Sir!" Kid doesn't know what to do with himself, so he straight-up salutes.

Scanning the aisle, Katsuki can't help but smile to himself—that's exactly the kind of endearingly awkward thing Izuku would've done in high school.

He mentioned dearly missing his stupid little pointer stick, one of those goofy ones with a little hand at the tip, index finger sticking out. One of the many corny teacher things he'd collected over the years. A student sat on it by accident. Broke it clean in half.

It was no collector's item. Probably cost him five hundred yen at most. Call this an exercise in getting a fucking grip, because Katsuki knows their foundation is strong and maybe zero or one hundred aren't the only modes he has. Maybe it doesn't have to be either all-out or failure.

"A thousand yen? Are you fucking serious?" Katsuki mutters to himself, snatching it off the rack. Dumb little hand. Nerdy ass fuckin' pointer stick. Can't believe he finds this shit cute.

Maybe Izuku's happy just knowing Katsuki thought about him, remembered something he said, miniscule as it was. Katsuki's always thinking about him, remembers a whole lot more than he lets on. He's been getting better at letting on.

When he gets home and sees Izuku, the first thing he does is throw his gift at him, cheeks pink, and yells, "I didn't forget!"

"Ow!"

There's freshly made curry on the counter when he gets there. Izuku isn't a bad cook, having learned a couple things from his mother. His issue was that he lacked variety.

This… is one that Katsuki taught Izuku how to make.

I think he's happy just… getting to live life with you.

"Kacchan!!" Izuku recovers quickly, laughter in his voice from the other end of the room. "Of all the—you're so weird! You're all over the internet again, by the way!"

"Quit pointing that thing at me." Katsuki doesn't have to look over to know what Izuku's doing. He rounds on the curry instead, eyes narrowed in scrutiny. "Hm."

"Happy Valentine's Day to you too."

"More salt."

"Without trying it?"

"I can already tell."

Later, when they're cleaning up and Katsuki feels calm enough to take a long look at him, he has that impossibly soft expression on his face again. Katsuki still hasn't been able to decipher it, though he's been on its receiving end more and more often over the last two years.

All he knows for sure is that it makes his skin tingle, makes him feel like he's under a microscope. Seen through, found out. It's not as bad as he once thought it was, and maybe that's okay.

Two Days Later

"Just 'cos you're sick doesn't mean you get to slack off!" Katsuki heaves a basket of dirty laundry over to where Izuku sits on the couch, surrounded by snotty tissues and waxy cough drop wrappers. "You're gonna sort these."

"I didn't make you do chores when you were sick," Izuku grumbles. He still scooches to the edge of the couch, dutifully separating darks and lights.

"You can't make me do anything. I'd have done them on my own if I could."

"I'm sure you would've."

Katsuki straightens a bedsheet mid-air with a quick flick of his wrists. Straight corners, less wrinkles. "…I'm glad it didn't hit you as hard as it hit me, at least. Be more careful."

Izuku sneezes again. "Jeez, I wore a mask and everything. Next time we should just disinfect the whole apartment." He digs out a dark-coloured puffer vest from the laundry basket and holds it up, inspecting it. "Haven't washed this in a while. It needs, uh…"

Katsuki moves onto the next bedsheet. "It needs?"

Izuku makes a grabby motion with his hands, trying to recall the word he wants to use. "Like… those things you put in the dryer along with jackets and pillows and stuff so the filling doesn't clump. We gotta use those, right?"

"Might as well."

Where did he put them, anyway? He wonders as he stashes away their freshly folded laundry. It's got to be in a drawer somewhere. He opens a few he hasn't opened in a while, skims their contents. Come to think of it, he also can't find his workout earbuds.

Katsuki spends the next several minutes shuffling through their massive dresser. He claimed the top two rows of drawers the moment they moved in, and hasn't ever felt the need to bother with the others. That's Izuku's domain.

Why is the only thing in this drawer a bottlecap with Edgeshot's face on it?

He's about to cave and call out to Izuku when something glints in his periphery. A little golden speck of light, from a drawer down at the very bottom.

Izuku's old UA uniform sits inside, neatly folded. There are a few loose threads where one of the buttons on the blazer should be, and you'd think the little golden button sat on top would be that missing button, but Katsuki knows better.

Kneeling on the floor, he takes it in his hand. There, a scratch on its surface, impossible to see from afar but easy to feel when it's in your hands. No doubt about it, this button is Katsuki's.

He feels a tug in his heart, a memory.

He doesn't know how long he sits there, probably would have sat there for much longer if not for Izuku walking in, tissues and blanket in hand.

"Kacchan?" Izuku calls, tired throat making his voice sound a bit gravelly. "I finished sorting. Made some tea for us, too. You were taking a while, so I…"

He trails off when he notices what Katsuki's looking at.

"Oh… Haven't seen that in a while."

Katsuki grunts in response. Izuku joins him on the floor, quiet as he crosses his legs and wraps the blanket around himself again.

"…You kept this?" Katsuki asks. It should be obvious to him at this point, but he says it anyway.

"Of course I did. I keep everything you give me."

Katsuki lingers on that. And Izuku, who'd been watching his face up until now, graces him with one of his wryer smiles.

(Katsuki has noticed, been noticing for some time, a bunch of rare expressions from Izuku have become less and less rare. And Katsuki—he feels, in the privacy of his mind, relieved.

On many fronts, Izuku is straightforward and easy to understand. He's kind. He's emotional. He's a freaking nerd.

On others, he's a looping, winding maze of half-truths. He's prone to lies, both with others and himself. Altruism with no limits. He's not afraid of the grotesque—one could argue, not in the way he should be.

Does this make him a bad person? Does this make his kindness insincere? No. Katsuki thinks it makes him human.)

"It's been enough time, so I can say this." Izuku starts, fidgeting with a tissue. "It took me a while to understand what I was feeling back then. Your confession… it made me a little mad."

Katsuki raises his brows. "Huh?"

"I was so confused and so happy at the same time, it was disorienting.”

Another thing that's changed. Katsuki can look into Izuku's eyes without feeling like someone's pulled the rug from under him. He remembers when his mind was just this incessant, nauseating loop of what are you thinking? Why are you looking at me like that? What do you want from me?

In the end, there was no rug to pull.

Izuku reaches over, takes the button into his own hands, turns it over. He looks ridiculous with his hair sticking out all kinds of ways, mismatched pajamas, nose red and rubbed raw.

"I thought, are you insane?  You want me? Now? You know, I felt the most pathetic I'd ever felt, those last two years at UA. Graduation was like a day of reckoning. I spent all my time leading up to it being terrified of it." He rubs his thumb along the scratch. "I'd already decided I was going to teach. It's the least I could do. Other than that, I was completely lost.

"And then you showed up, and gave me this… and I realized I really didn’t know anything at all. 'Cos here I was, mentally and emotionally preparing myself for a lonely life, while you had something completely different in mind." Izuku peers at him out of the corner of his eye. "I couldn’t just go and refuse you. But if I was going to keep you, I had to dedicate myself the way you were. Give as good as I got. I wouldn’t be able to face you otherwise.”

He closes his fist tight around the button. Katsuki feels his chest tighten in tandem.

“’Course I was mad," Izuku continues. "You gave me an impossible task. I always knew we’d be great together, but you were handing me a chance at a happiness I didn’t know was possible. I couldn’t bring myself to reject it.”

Katsuki lets out a long-suffering sigh. “You’re just… something else.”

Izuku finds his hand and takes it into both of his own, holding him there. He grins, a much different kind of smile, warm around the edges, knowing in all the ways he didn't back then. “Turns out I make a pretty great boyfriend. I had no idea!"

“Don't flatter yourself,” Katsuki mumbles. Stupid. He'd kiss him if he wasn't a snotty wreck right now.

He says as much. Izuku presses a dozen kisses to his hands to make up for it.

In the past, whenever Izuku considered the idea of someone liking him that way, it was always with a vague future version of himself. Blurry, faceless. Always a him who wasn’t quite him, a him who was better. Older, cooler, put-together. Someone he could imagine being like-liked by someone else. Romance had to be put on hold until he met those standards. He didn't know when he would meet them. He didn't know if he’d meet them at all.

His first year at UA complicated things, to say the least. He became utterly consumed by being the best hero he could possibly be, prove that he was worthy of One For All. If someone asked him, 'would you sacrifice your life to save another's?' he would have answered 'yes.' That didn’t necessarily mean he wanted to die. He just wanted his death to mean something.

It sounds selfish in hindsight, but it's true.

A life like that didn’t lend itself very well to intimacy. What a torture it would be for the poor sod unlucky enough to fall for him—if a person like that even existed, he'd think to himself. Flights of fancy. What-if scenarios, fantasies, unthinkable. That's what they were.

If that person isn't real, he can't hurt them.

Oh, how tragically wrong he was.

Izuku would have to shamefully admit to himself that, yes, he had been skirting the line with Kacchan all throughout their last two years at UA. He knew he was being greedy but, in his mind, that was his last chance to be close to Kacchan. His last chance to experience being Kacchan's friend again. The last two years before all his what-ifs became did-nots.

When Kacchan confessed, Izuku felt that yawning pit of consequence growing in his stomach.

The Kacchan who loved him back wasn't supposed to happen. Not after everything. Not him.

Of course Izuku accepted his feelings. He had to. The way Kacchan's eyes bore into Izuku like there was no one else in the world who could ever compare… Izuku was well and truly fucked.

Months later, Kacchan would turn up at his house on Valentine's Day, shy and pink-cheeked like he wasn't still recovering from being dead on the battlefield. Because of Izuku. How the hell was he supposed to reconcile these two wildly contrasting realities?

Izuku made a promise to Kacchan that he would try. So, no matter how unreal or impossible it all felt, he had to try.

Izuku was not, is not, will never be perfect. He knew this. Trying with Kacchan taught him, better than anything else could have, that he wasn't as self-aware as he assumed he was.

The times he thought he was being very honest ended up being half-truths he was either ignoring or unable to catch because he told himself the same lies.

That blurry, faceless version of himself from the future, the one he imagined when he tried to conjure a him who was worthy of love—Izuku had to face himself and swallow down the truth. Blurry, faceless him from the future was always going to be perfect. And that's why he will never exist. There is no apparition, no what-if, no lie that can carry Izuku's consequences for him. No thick metal door, chained and locked, to shield Izuku from the things he can't stand about himself.

Being loved so decisively, so intentionally—Izuku could no longer run from the fact of his existence. Couldn't inflict more hurt on the (un)lucky sun that fell for him.

Kacchan is allowed to mess up, make mistakes, be imperfect in front of him. Izuku will never think less of him for trying, will never hate him for being there, will never love him any less. Kacchan has always done his best, not just to be a good partner, but… to see and hear Izuku so he could be a good partner for Izuku.

And, well… when in doubt, Izuku has always asked himself, what would Kacchan do?

"Remember to read chapter seven! We'll be going over it next class! There may or may not be a pop quiz, who knows?"

The class, halfway packed and out the door, groans in unison. Izuku hadn’t thought he'd ever be the kind of teacher who delivers pop quizzes. They're mostly to check progress and keep students on track for exams, anyway. He doesn't even include them in their final grades.

He also hadn’t thought he'd be the teacher that whistles and hums to himself in empty classrooms.

As he tidies up his desk, it hits him how much of the little objects that constitute his 'personal touch' are just gifts from Kacchan. Valentine's Day, Christmas, New Year’s—and plenty of things outside any official occasion, brought home or to the classroom and tossed at him for no particular reason other than Kacchan wanted to.

Speaking of Kacchan, Izuku could recognize those footsteps he's hearing down the hall any day.

"Close the door behind you," Izuku says, without looking up. "For some reason, there's no heating in the hallways."

"I could tell," Kacchan deadpans, half buried in a sweater bigger than he is, and that's saying something! He takes it off almost immediately, though. Izuku knows it's because he overheats under thick layers at the temperature his classroom is at.

"Are you, uh…"

Izuku raises his head. "Am I…?

Kacchan looks bashful suddenly, kicking his feet against the tiled floor and looking away. So cute. "You busy after this? I was thinking we could, uh…"

Izuku can't help it, he laughs. "Are you hitting on me?"

"You think you're sooo funny." There it is, the angry pout. Izuku puts down his freshly organized stack of papers so he can devote both hands to holding Kacchan's face. He gives his pout a little kiss, a silent I'm sorry, go on.

"We couldn't go to the park earlier. I got off early today, so I was thinking…"

Izuku's face lights up immediately. "Oh! Yeah, let's go! Let's go now!! Are we going now?!"

Kacchan sometimes gets this look when Izuku gets excited, of being taken off guard. Like he doesn't expect Izuku to agree, or be happy about something, even though Izuku knows he knows better. Silly Kacchan.

"If you wanna, yeah, sure."

"Of course I wanna!"

It's been a while since Izuku got the chance to sit in the park during sakura season and just watch the petals fall, take in the scenery he so often takes for granted. He mentioned it to Kacchan, back in February.

Izuku's chest floods, swells with a rush of affection. He can't help the expression he makes, it's probably so grossly tender, brows pulled together and helplessly endeared.

Kacchan's own expression softens, looking at his. "I have a question," he says suddenly.

"Hm?" Izuku ends up in these weird half-trances, where he's just so in love and happy to be alive. It's kind of scary, but he wouldn't skip out on them for anything.

"What're you thinking? When you're…" Kacchan gestures vaguely at his face. "When you're lookin' at me like that."

In the past, Izuku would've gotten self-conscious. Would've apologized, thinking he'd freaked him out or made things awkward. Now, his smile just grows.

"Just now," Izuku wonders aloud, "I was thinking about how thoughtful and attentive you are. I mentioned the park over a month ago and you still remembered."

"Duh." Kacchan looks at him like he's dense. What a hypocrite. Izuku can't speak at all, though.

He absently smooths Kacchan's shirt, fixes the collar that doesn't need fixing, fussing just for the excuse of touching him. "I feel it in my chest, like my heart grows twice its size. I just think, he's really trying, huh? It makes me want to try even harder."

Kacchan puts his warm, warm hands over Izuku's, stilling them so he can lace their fingers together properly. "Just like you to turn caring into a competition."

"Not a competition. More like, uh… reciprocity."

Kacchan rolls his eyes. "Whatever you say. Grab your shit and let's go!"

"Okay, okay!"

Kacchan, for all his confidence, still stumbles through his feelings the same way Izuku does. To be loved and to feel loved are two different things.

Every time Kacchan aims cloud-parting sunbeam smiles at him, every single time Izuku hears the implicit message—I've entrusted my heart to you.

Izuku is in no denial of his feelings, not anymore. He's as in love as the grass is green, now and forever.

Graduation Day, 4 Years Ago

The ceremony ended a while ago. Graduates are milling about all over the UA school grounds—last-minute packing, saying goodbye to friends and teachers, taking a lot of photos. Younger students sneak into the commotion, eager to play a part in sending off what's arguably the most famous graduating class in the history of UA.

Katsuki doesn't need to do all of that. He packed his dorm well in advance, made sure to spend a great deal of quality time with his classmates, and made today an exception for photos—he hasn't denied anyone a picture. Took a few of his own, too.

There's something left on his mind.

He hasn't been able to get Izuku alone yet, can't bring himself to interrupt these moments with their classmates. Everyone's a little emotional today, reminiscing on the past three years, rehashing talks about the future, setting times and dates to meet up again, allowing themselves to open up and say the things on their minds to people important to them. Things like 'I'm gonna miss you' and 'you were there for me when I needed it' and 'our friendship means everything to me, let's promise to always stay in touch.' Here and there, if he turns a corner or catches a break from the crowd, he might overhear things like 'I really like you, do you like me too?'

He took his button off. The second one. It's in his pocket now, right beside his All Might card.

If giving away your second button is like giving away a piece of your heart, it’s only fitting that Izuku gets his. It belongs to him. He should know. Wherever he goes, whoever he becomes, he needs to know there's a place beside Katsuki that will always be his and his alone.

When he finds the opportunity, it's Izuku who approaches him first, sounding out of breath.

"Kacchan! What's the point of having a phone if you're never gonna use it?!"

Katsuki checks his phone.

"Oh." 5 missed calls. Whoops.

Izuku sighs. He turns his head towards the trees, sakura blossoms in full bloom. They stand by each other for a moment, watching pink and white petals flutter to the ground, catching sunlight along the way.

"I wanted to say…" Izuku matches the quiet, keeps his voice soft. He turns back to Katsuki, and for a moment Katsuki thinks he sees something conflicted in his brow. It smooths out as soon as it appears. "I… I know we don't do a lot of this… feelings talk. And I know you've heard me say it a thousand times, and it probably pisses you off, but—" His eyes well up. "Thank you for everything."

Here he goes again. And maybe there's something a little different about it this time. Something in the air, too. Katsuki tries not to tear up, it's a valiant effort. "You always say that, yeah. But right now you're saying it like you're saying bye. You sentimental today or what?"

Izuku blinks, as if he didn't expect to hear that. "I—It's not, I mean… Today's the kind of day that marks an end and a beginning, right? So… um, thank you for looking out for me, and… let's keep looking out for each other from here on!"

They talk about their plans. They've already talked about them before. Izuku hasn't accepted any of the offers he got. He's terse about it when it comes up.

"And… you?"

"You already know," Katsuki replies. "My goals haven't changed." Keep chasing after Izuku. Keep being the greatest heroes together.

Izuku looks out at the trees again. He follows the wash of petals with his eyes. A breeze twirls them in circles as it passes by.

"By the way,” When Izuku breaks the silence again, his voice sounds just a little different. Lower. Like he’s straining to say the words. "It's missing."

"What is?"

"Your button."

Katsuki's butterflies tickle his insides. Nausea rolls in his stomach.

"Yeah."

Izuku's gaze flicks to the ground. "…Did you lose it?"

"Not really."

Say it. Say it now.

Izuku, as always, cuts him to the chase without even realizing it. "...Does someone else have it?"

It isn't lost on Katsuki, and it's a little scary, the immediate repulsion he feels to the idea of anyone but Izuku having it.

"No."

He thumbs the button in his pocket. Izuku's eyes immediately catch the movement.

When he looks back up, it's with a small, tired smile. "You're not one to do things halfway."

Katsuki's chest is tight, tight, tight. Why does it feel so…

"I'll see you later, alright?" Izuku says suddenly. There's reassurance in his voice, kind. Warm. Unplaceable. Who is he comforting? "You can… um, call or text me whenever, by the way. I…"

He trails off, and doesn't move.

Perplexing. He's confusing, so confusing, the greatest hero Katsuki has ever known, and he's such a liar.

Katsuki takes a deep breath, feels it in his diaphragm. The sudden rush of air has him dizzy. He makes a fist over the button in his pocket and brings it out into the open. Gut churning again, over and over, he feels like he's going to throw up. Whatever this means… whatever it brings, it'll be okay. Because it’s Izuku with him.

"You're right. I don't do things halfway," he says. "… Open your hand."

Izuku tends to stumble into subtlety. Now, he's the picture of confusion. He extends his hand anyway, palm facing up. So many scars, patterns, reminders dug into his skin forever. As painful as they all are, Katsuki knows Izuku doesn’t regret any of them.

He drops the button into his palm. No preamble. Izuku's brows shoot up. "This…"

"It's yours." Katsuki glances to the side, too nervous to look at his face. His entire body feels hot, heartbeat in his ears. He can't keep the small quiver from his voice. "Always been yours. I've been trying to… find the right words. I haven't. But today isn't gonna happen again, and you need to know."

It dawns on Izuku then. There's a tremor in his hand when he pulls it back.

"Izuku," Katsuki's eyes burn when he musters the courage to look at Izuku again. "You don't have to worry about whether I'll be there. You don't have to say bye if you don't want to. You don't have to ask."

"I don't…" Izuku looks mystified, eyes shining subtly with barely-there tears.

"Nothing has to change if you don't want it to change," Katsuki can barely recognize his voice anymore. He wipes one of his cheeks with his sleeve. "But you'll always have me. You and every you from here on. For as long as I'm breathing you'll have me."

"Of all the…" Izuku trails off, rubbing his eyes roughly. His cheeks are flushed red. A laugh spills out of him, disbelieving. He closes his other still-trembling hand over his own button and all but rips it from the fabric, cursing to himself. Swept by the breeze, painted by the setting sun. Tear tracks glinting in the light, crystal clear, he brings his fist to Katsuki's chest.

"I think…" He offers a shaky smile. "I want things to change."