Chapter Text
She’s pretty.
The way her brown, shiny hair falls and curls over her shoulder, how it’s never frizzy or catches split ends. He stares at her. Probably longer than he would like to admit. She has got huge doe eyes that glow when he talks to her. They widen, turn extra big, appearing more innocent with every millimeter, just for its prey to feel more superior.
Katsuki is not a prey, nor a predator. Izuku knows because if anything, he’s the furthest away from being one.
And Izuku is neither too.
Not good enough to even be preyed on. The people don’t look at him and think he’s interesting, or salivate at their mouths when he walks into a room. Normally, they turn their heads away immediately.
If he had to categorize himself, he’d always be the moon, in a sense.
A soft giggle fills the hallway, standing out from the snorts, loud laughter and rough banter of his other classmates.
Ochaco’s cheeks turn pink, and Izuku witnesses it in real time. The way she raises her hand and presses her fingers against her plump lips softly, hiding her perfect teeth and blinding smile just for Katsuki to get flashed by it anyways.
It’s only fair that people like her end up with people like him.
Maybe it would be easier if it wasn’t fair.
But just because something is fair doesn’t mean you can’t be upset about it. And Izuku is upset every day. If only she would be mean to him too. That would give him a reason to be upset with her.
But she’s not mean. She’s not nice, either.
And Izuku is orbiting around a much bigger planet, so much brighter and livelier than him, reflecting the light. What is it good for? The curiosity fades once you set foot on the unfamiliar surface, once it’s defiled and you get to take a piece of Luna back home. You might tell your friends. How amazing the trip had been, how stunned you were to feel the new environment around you, how kind she treated you.
But also, that you’d never do it again.
Sometimes, Izuku thinks Kacchan would behave like a man who’s been on the moon before. He would happily give Katsuki a piece of his surface. He could cut it out of Izuku, maybe even rip it out painfully and with way too much force and destroy a piece of him if it meant he’ll think about him later on.
Izuku would give anything for Kacchan to notice him.
The silver, metal lock is cold underneath his fingertips as he opens it with his index finger and thumb. Even when the locker opens with a slight, uncomfortable screeching sound, he’s not taking his eyes off of her. Of him.
“I could come,” she says, twirling her perfect hair with the perfect length around her finger. Uraraka’s long and dark eyelashes bat once, then twice. She looks like a deer. But not the one that people refer to when describing shock or discomfort. More like a deer when they describe softness, cluelessness and innocence.
She’s innocent. And he’s…
…Well, he’s not. He’s not guilty, either.
His hands reach for the biology textbook, stored all the way back in its own, small three walls of metal. It feels heavy in his hands when he pulls it out.
Its normal place isn’t in there, anyways. Izuku stores it at home most of the time. To read. When the semester is halfway through, he has already finished what could be described as a novel.
If books had emotions and thoughts, would they feel out of place too, sometimes? Ripped out of warm hugs from their loved ones only to get spread and read. They’re consumed, and then Izuku puts them back on the wooden shelf. In a different order, never in the place where they once were.
“To your party? Tonight?” She presses again. Her teeth gnaw on her bottom lip and somehow it looks cute instead of worrisome like it does whenever Izuku chews on his lip.
When Ochaco does it, it’s to give it a new shine for a hot minute.
When Izuku does it, he starts to leave a metallic, tangy taste on his tongue.
Katsuki glances over to Izuku, cramming in his locker. He’s not searching for anything, not really. He’s found what he was looking for.
It’s a short, fleeting second that passes by just as quickly as it had arrived. But to Izuku, the world seemed to stop just then. It was a flicker. A blink, really.
His chest is flooded with a warmth that he’s been getting more often lately. Which means, Kacchan has been looking at him more often too. Which could mean nothing. Or maybe it means everything.
God, Izuku hopes it does.
His heart skips a beat in his chest and he can feel the palms of his clammy hands starting to heat up too. He’s sweating all over his hardcovers again.
Then, the heavy book slips out of his hands and hits the ground with a loud
thud!
“Embarrassing,” somebody snickers, wiping off imaginary dust from their shoulder. “You shouldn’t be standing there like some useless loser,” he spits, staring down at the literature all spread out open on the dirty ground.
In moments like these, Izuku knows it’s best to stay silent. Every word to deescalate, is a word to escalate.
He swallows down any emotion before his dark-green eyes glance back to Katsuki. He doesn’t know why. What does he expect? The blond to be his saviour? His knight in shining armor? To save him from all of this humiliation?
Katsuki meets his gaze, once again and his dark-blonde eyebrows furrow into something Izuku can’t quite read. It looks like pity. Or maybe he’s saying sorry.
Katsuki looks at Izuku.
And then he looks away.
“The- uh, the party,” he murmurs with a slight nod, staring at Ochaco’s fringe. “Yeah, everyone’s invited.” The girl beams. “Really? Oh, I didn’t know! The invitation never reached me…” She starts mumbling, her cheeks getting round with the air she’s sucking in just so her lips form into a pout. “But okay, if you want me there, then I guess I’ll bring a friend.”
His mother worries about him more often too, lately.
“Izuku?” A knock on the bathroom door. Warm water splashing around in the tub. It feels like a hug. And with Izuku hugging his legs, it feels like he’s being double comforted.
“I’ve cooled some broccoli for you, my dear,” she says against the wooden door. Her voice is laced in worry and concern. It never stops. It clings like superglue to her soft tone these days, comes naturally and never leaves.
“Thanks, mom. But I’m fine,” Izuku mumbles into his wet skin while staring at his legs. There’s a blue spot on his right shinbone. Another dark green spot on his left thigh. And more planted all over his freckled body as if they were gardeners, dedicated to do their job right with a passion.
Inko sighs gently outside the door. “Honey, let me cool them for you. You can’t keep letting this happen.” “It’s not like I’m asking them to do this,” Izuku argues back. It sounds less mean and more quiet in his head, but it comes out sharp and snappy. As if he’s one of them, with teeth that actually bite.
Izuku doesn’t bite.
“I can still teach you at home. I’ll visit evening classes, Izu.” She’s always saying this. And this, so close before graduation too. She’s so dedicated and willing to help Izuku out of his misery. “I told you, I want to go to school, mom,” he whispers.
His left hand moves out of the water, pushing past the resistance of the surface only to dip back under. He straightens his legs some more in the tube, water sloshing all around him. With his index finger, he presses against one of the bruises on his skin and hisses.
It should hurt, just like that. He could endure more than that.
“What? Aren’t you gonna pick that up?” The guy asks, still standing taller in front of Izuku. He clenches and unclenches his fists on his sides. Then, he nods. There’s more people behind the guy now. All gathering up to witness the daily ritual of degradation.
Izuku really hopes Kacchan is watching him too.
His posture bends as gravity pulls him down onto his knees. His back is slouched over and his backpack sits heavily against his uniform and above his now cold skin. Slowly, he reaches out for the biology literature on the ground, breathing in.
The guy then kicks, ripping a few delicate pages from the book with his dirty soles. The crowd breaks out in laughter, fingers pointing at him while they do so.
Izuku’s heartbeat spikes up, green eyes flashing through the crowd. His breathing kicks up. He knows what’s about to happen when he feels the tears swelling in the corner of his eyes and his sight getting all blurry. It’s as if there’s a huge lump forming in his throat, impossible to swallow.
Quickly, he scrambles for the book, handling its ripped out pages carefully, before he’s up and gone. His body pushes past the people, feet carrying him down the hallway to the grand entrance.
Once his lungs are met with fresh air, he feels like he can finally breathe again.
“Mom, can you come and pick me up?”
Izuku tries not to sob into the speaker.
Inko arrives shortly after the call.
The car ride home is silent except for Izuku’s soft sniffling as he stares out of the fogged up window, palm already numb from the weight of his chin in it.
“Izuku, this isn’t right.”
She suddenly breaks the silence at a red light, staring ahead. “I can’t see you like this. Everyday, it’s the same,” she continues, her fingers clinging to the brown steering wheel like it’s the only thing anchoring and holding her back from yelling out how frustrated she is.
“You come home, you don’t talk to me, what am I supposed to do with that?” She says it as if she’s saying bad words. All quiet and hesitant. “And then I see you like this. Always so scared, beaten black and blue. What are they doing to you at this school?”
He never wanted to make her worry. He just slipped into the role of the black sheep so easily, no matter where he went.
Izuku shrugs his shoulders, closing his eyes.
A minute passes. Or maybe five. Izuku doesn’t know. All he knows is that she is clutching and driving again.
“Kacchan’s there,” he whispers above the whirring of the car when they stop at another red light. His mother keeps her lips closed, but when the green shines onto the window of her car again, Inko stalls, tries again, and drives. “Katsuki?” She asks, as if there was anyone else who’d that childish nickname still belonged to.
“Yeah.” Izuku nods, back still turned to her. The seatbelt digs into his neck at this position. He will live.
“Katsuki takes care of you?”
What a stupid assumption, Izuku thinks.
“Yeah,” he says. “Kacchan’s nice.”
Inko clutches again, slowing down as they drive into their driveway, plastered with grey stepstones. This time the silence is way more uncomfortable than the last. She’s been holding her tongue, sure, but Izuku can feel her burning stares into his back.
He sits back down properly, turning his back to lean against the fabric of the seat, staring at the garage entry.
“Why are you not saying anything?”
She immediately talks, as if she only needed an invitation to do so.
“Katsuki Bakugou hasn’t visited you in years,” she states. “And now he’s supposedly my son’s protector?”
The gate opens slowly with an unoiled screech as she rolls in. “This doesn’t make sense to me, Izuku. If he’s such a nice person, why are you still like this?” “It’s the other kids. Not him. He’s nice to everybody,” Izuku explains. If Kacchan were here, he could defend and speak for himself. He’s very good at saying things everybody wants to hear.
“Being nice to everybody,” Inko starts, turning off the engine. The car turns silent, the cold weather immediately spreading through the empty spaces in the door inside the car. “means that you’re actually doing nobody a favor. You are just a coward.”
Her delicate hand slides around the door handle, pushing it open with one swift movement before she steps out of the vehicle.
“Come on in. I will run you a bath and make you some hot chocolate. Your favorite.”
Izuku knows that his mother loves him dearly.
But pretending to be loved by Kacchan is special in its own way.
A clattering noise wakes Izuku from his sleep. Or at least that’s what he should’ve been doing. His mother let him bring the frozen vegetables upstairs and let him cool his bruises off in the comfort of his own room.
The lights are dimmed in a soft orange hue as he’s staring at the ceiling fan. It’s a calm night. His heartbeat finally returned back to normal, giving him a pulse that only spikes whenever he thinks of blond hair.
Izuku sits up in bed when the clattering noise appears again. This time he locates where it’s coming from, staring at the closed window. His tired eyes flicker to check the time on his nightstand. Past midnight.
His mother won’t allow him to go to school tomorrow anyways. He might as well stay up a little later.
Another tiny, but apparently hard thing hits the window. It’s going to leave a crack if he doesn’t go check now.
He gets up, whining quietly when he puts too much pressure on his thigh while trying to balance himself against the bed frame.
In the dark of the night, it’s hard to make up silhouettes from the outside. Another tiny rock hits the window and it cracks where the stone hits the glass.
Izuku's eyes grow wide for a second. How will he explain this to his mother? He quickly unlocks the window and the next rock comes flying right at his clothed chest. He squints, trying to figure out the person in the shadows, leaning over the window sill.
The person steps forward into the weak light and green meets red once again. “Kacch-“ The blond quickly puts a finger in front of his pursed lips, looking around frantically.
“Can you open the door?”
Katsuki looks so pretty in the dark light of the street lamp. His blond hair reflects the light a little, shining practically on its own.
“I- uh- I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Izuku yell-whispers back down with a sigh.
“I just want to apologize,” Katsuki says, his right hand immediately flying to the left side of his chest in guilt. He pats over his heart twice before nodding his chin into the direction of the front door.
Izuku can’t help the little snort that escapes past his chapped lips. “Okay, wait.” He closes the window back up, locking it tightly before sneaking past his mother’s bedroom.
Before he passes it, he checks the slit underneath her door. The lights are turned off. Everything should be in the clear. With painful, burning legs, he steps downstairs, avoiding the creaking parts of the wood.
Once arrived, he turns the key that’s dangling in the lock and pushes the big, front door open.
There he is.
Kacchan, in all his glory.
Only a little taller than Izuku, his chest a little broader but the dip when his eyes reach his waist is obvious.
Izuku’s heart skips another beat just staring at him.
This is how the protagonist in every cheesy romance must feel when they reunite with the love of their life. All gooey and warm inside, legs threatening to give in.
The heartbeat reaches his ears, thumping heavily as he’s holding his breath. Katsuki is not saying a word either. He just stands there, on the front porch, looking prettier than ever.
Not that he ever looked ugly.
God, Kacchan could never ever look ugly!
“Do you want to come in?” Izuku then offers shyly, suddenly fully aware of his childish blue and yellow pyjamas he’s wearing. But before he has the chance to shut the door close again in front of Katsuki’s nose, which he’s very conflicted about if he'd actually pull through, the blond nods.
His brain short-circuits when he actually sets a foot into the house. Kacchan hasn’t been here in so long, a lot has changed ever since then.
The door quietly falls back into its lock when Izuku lets it go, handing Katsuki a pair of guest slippers from their slipper rack. His guest is not even reaching out to take them. He must want Izuku to put them on for him. The smaller boy shuffles back a little, ready to kneel, when Katsuki coughs awkwardly.
“I didn’t plan on staying long,” he mumbles, looking at everything except for Izuku. “I just wanted you to know- that wasn’t nice. What Monoma did today.”
Izuku laughs softly. “It’s not like you’re him. You didn’t tell him to kick my book,” he scoffs with a roll of an eye and a gentle smile.
If Izuku were a god, he’d let Katsuki come to heaven with all of his sins, even if he hadn't even been a believer.
“I didn’t tell him not to kick the book, too,” he whispers. There it is again. His voice is laced with guilt and pity. Sometimes Izuku thinks he needs to get his ears checked because it’s draining to know what intention lies beneath the word.
He wonders if Katsuki can tell that his voice is laced with love and adoration.
“Aren’t you hosting a party right now?” He asks then.
“It’s not really… fun,” Katsuki replies, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. It’s almost as if he’s embarrassed to be here but even more embarrassed that he’s hosting a party he doesn’t even enjoy.
When Katsuki said that everyone was invited, that didn’t include Izuku. And he knew that. And he was fine with that, because he got something even better.
“Oh.” Izuku gulped into the silence of the big corridor. His fists are clenching and unclenching at his sides. “Why?” He asks, his voice a little too soft to face a “nice” one like Izuku calls him.
Katsuki breathes out with a huff. His eyebrows are furrowed. He always has that look on his face, as if it pains him to talk to Izuku. As if his presence alone is embarrassing enough. Maybe even second-hand.
“They’re all… making out with each other,” he murmurs underneath his shaky breath, just standing there.
Izuku blinks. Once, then twice. He can’t quite follow, but still he pictures the party so vividly. So many drunk faces in one room, hollering and yelling and laughing with their chest while downing another shot. Someone tells her she’s pretty and somebody lets him know he’s handsome before they’re found in a closet.
He bets that Katsuki has heard that tonight. That he’s beautiful and handsome and pretty. And that Katsuki then smiled gently, taking the compliment for what it is.
He’d go and play drinking games with his friends while some girls are watching them from afar, deciding who their next target would be. And then they’d choose Katsuki.
And Kacchan, instead of joining the pretty one in the closet, comes running straight into Izuku’s loving arms.
“And… I’m not,” he continues as the silence grows louder between them. Katsuki takes a courageous step forward.
Izuku takes a small step back, fists clenching again. He’s heating up. No, he’s burning. His palms start feeling wet all over again. He could never escape the symptoms of Kacchan.
The blond then takes another step forward, this time smaller, less confident. And Izuku, just like he is, takes another step back, also smaller. “I’d do it with you,” Katsuki whispers. His pink lips move so effortlessly when they say it, luring Izuku in, like a moth to a flame.
He chuckles nervously, eyes scanning every inch of the room they’re in. His heart is going to fall out of his ribcage. Or even better, explode. Yeah, explode. A quick death. That sounds good. “You don’t… really want to,” he huffs out, shaking his head, cheeks red.
“I do.”
Izuku’s heart doesn’t explode, sadly, but it sinks.
Maybe this is what he wanted, but is that what he wants to offer? His scrawny, lousy self, beaten black and blue, for a kiss like it’s described in only the most beautiful fairytales?
“Do you?”
Izuku wants to, so badly.
He’s waited for this all along.
He’s endured everything, just for this.
He’s nodding.
The blond gulps before reaching forward and a strong hand curls around Izuku’s waist to pull him closer, just a few inches.
“I haven’t done this before.” He says it like a very dangerous warning. Like kissing Izuku’s lips means killing yourself and you should best not try it.
“Just follow my lead,” Katsuki whispers. He has this intense gaze that pierces right through Izuku’s soul, touching him from the inside out.
He could get lost in those eyes for eternity.
The blond gives a short nod, not a “yes.” but a “yes?”.
And Izuku nods back, not a “yes?” but a “yes.”
Kissing Kacchan feels heavenly. It’s like his softest dreams but ten, no, million times better. When you kiss someone, you don’t have to interpret their laced tone. You don’t have to think at all, actually.
But still, Izuku does.
Katsuki pulls Izuku in closer, tongue patiently waiting, occasionally swiping against Izuku’s lips. His hands grab his waist, holding him steady and grounding him while simultaneously letting their crotches touch carefully.
Only for a second, like it zaps if it’d happen for too long. And then they pull away again. When they think the electricity has died down, they do it all over again till they feel like they’re about to get electrocuted.
Kacchan is a good kisser. He’s careful and slow. Izuku finds him not in a rush, but he actually seems to be enjoying the moment. Not for a second he thinks about opening his eyes. It’s better to feel the moment instead of witnessing it with your own eyes.
It will give him something to hold on to, something to think about at night when Kacchan is missing in his bed, underneath his blanket. He already misses him and he’s not even out the door yet.
Izuku’s hands reach upwards, locking around the blond’s neck as Katsuki tries again, licking his way into the other’s mouth. This time, Izuku parts his lips carefully and grants him permission.
Katsuki tastes sweet like liquor. He’s so cool, Izuku thinks he might die from a heart attack when Katsuki grinds against him once again. But the voice in the back of his mind is not leaving him alone, even in sacred moments like these.
He pulls away gradually till his mouth is free to speak again. Katsuki stops, bleary eyes blinking open in confusion as Izuku looks around nervously.
He has to ask. He has to make sure Katsuki knows. That he’s not blinded and knows what he’s doing.
“You don’t mind that I’m- ugly?” Izuku whispers into the space between their bodies now. His eyes dart to the ground, ashamed to even be seen in this dim light.
Katsuki shakes his head. It’s full of things he could say. Things he should’ve said while chasing after Izuku’s soft lips again. “I don’t mind,” he says tenderly, just below a whisper, as he leans in for another kiss.
Izuku thinks it’s the most romantic thing he’s ever heard.