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Izuku stared at his phone—unconsciously holding his breath as he watched the bubbles type under his text to his lover.
Why does it feel so weird?
What’s wrong with us?
He had felt a subconscious pulling for weeks from his boyfriend. It wasn’t intentional but as life moved on for them hours apart their affection fell through the cracks. They hadn’t spoken in days and worst of all— it hadn’t hit Izuku until his spiky haired love was mentioned.
At dinner that evening his mother had asked in passing, “How is Katsuki, Zuku? I haven’t heard his voice in a few days”, Inko smiled quizzically, oblivious to the way Izuku’s shoulders tensed in realization.
“Good,” He choked out, trying to keep his face neutral. “He’s so busy prepping for finals next month. You know him, always the best.” Izuku smiled, the crinkles not quite reaching his eyes. Inko didn’t press, chomping away at her food, already accepting the answer her son had given.
“Of course— Could you pass the green onions?” Izuku slipped a slight smile on his face, doing as he was asked. How did this happen? He thought.
The line to his mother wasn’t a complete lie, Kacchan and Izuku did have finals next month and it wasn’t out of character for him to start his rather intensive study habits obscenely early. He was weeks away from graduating as Salutatorian of his class at University of Akishima better known as UA. Izuku, a future graduate of Shiketsu College, was on track to do the same. They were set to move in after they graduated, to start their lives together. A little over a month and the future would begin. The End of an Era, and the Beginning of another.
Once dinner ceased and drowning in his selfishness, Izuku reached out immediately. It's not like there had been total radio silence in the last two weeks but Katsuki acquired a sprained ankle and a week later a concussion—gifts for being UA’s star volleyball player and constant target. Izuku's mom was in the hospital after a heart scare and at the prospect of losing the only parent he had left Izuku undoubtedly retreated inward. When did they stop turning to each other when it got hard?
They were both healing respectively, but it became distant. Fragmented moments, ignored text, and though he didn’t know when it happened he'd stopped wanting to talk to his boyfriend all together. Their routine had shifted, no more morning giggles or late night sleep calls. All that was left was 30 second calls and an unbridled anger he couldn't place.
Well… that wasn’t 100% true. He thought to himself sprawled on his bed as his meal settled. He knew where some of the anger came from.
Before this dry spell, Izuku and Katsuki had a disagreement on control. It may not seem like it but both men were incessant control freaks.
Izuku, always the analyser, constantly saw solutions and ways to fix problems and had trouble hiding his dislike for things being done in ways he deemed inefficient or unnecessary. He chalked it up to having to be in charge at home and needing control after his father left them.
Katsuki hated being controlled by actions—He never listened. He was the best at what he put his heart into and was the more spontaneous of the two. He grunted and complained and procrastinated on things Izuku saw as priorities. He’d rather go to a game than finish apartment hunting with his partner. He knew Katsuki’s final season was important to him, but it felt like it delayed their future. He knew Kacchan had more money saved for this given his lineage and familial connections. But Izuku, doing what he could, felt like the entire mental strain of planning their lives together was on him.
At the beginning Izuku took it— a necessary trade off for the life he wanted. Eventually though, after enough spreadsheets, itemized lists, questions, and property calls he was starting to crack. He was irritable, alone, and that distance was doing nothing but grow, festering through minimal conversations and what was rotting into a cracked foundation.
Katsuki was an angry person by nature, but he could be insufferable when he was truly hurting. He screamed at everyone, even Izuku, and shut out the world under the guise of training his body. Izuku knew that that anger hid pain, disappointment, and more negativity toward himself than anyone Kacchan ended up yelling at. Knowledge did not negate feelings though and already at his limit, Izuku resorted to two minute conversations and sporadic texting in an attempt to avoid fighting in the pockets of time they did get to speak. He could hear it though—the gritting aggression consuming Katsuki these last few weeks when they spoke. He could picture his face, mouth snarled and eyebrows downset.
Izuku knew he’d have to address it eventually but, and he shuddered at the weight of it, he’d forgotten in the air of new normalcy. He’d gotten used to waking up and immediately helping his mother with errands and cleaning up the house— his phone forgotten in the sheets, left open on an unanswered text. He’d gotten used to sucking in his anger and pain as best he could to let Kacchan live his life as he drowned. Holding everything in to keep the peace.
Now Izuku had to face the consequences of his actions. They had to fix this before they moved in together. How could they even consider it? They weren't communicating now— and as much as Izuku wanted to he couldn’t trust it to just get better once they could just fuck their problems out of mind or ignore them all together in the haze of being in the same space again. He wanted to know it was the right choice. He needed to.
Inko liked Katsuki, but she thought they were moving too fast trying to live together right out of college and she’d made that known. She’d also said she’d supported him to make smart decisions though given he was legally an adult. Izuku remembers her sighs, resigning herself to accept her son’s choices unmaliciously.
So Izuku decided it was time to break the silence. Knowing he’d find a way out of it otherwise— he typed it all out. Every feeling, every thought, every significant word in hopes it would make sense. He wanted Kacchan to know he wasn’t trying to be uninterested when he spoke, he just couldn't find it in him to care about it with all the noise inside. Izuku used to describe it as bees buzzing within him— but that felt childish now. He expressed his fears of their future, the mental load he was crushing under, even the fact his mother had to point out his failures.
He told him he didn't know if he could move-in anymore.
He understood if he felt like he wasted the last 4 years.
He understood if his doubts made Katsuki not want to be together anymore.
All of them would be valid reactions and he’d take them.
Regardless of his confusion there was one truth in it all— Kacchan deserved better than this— better than worthlessness— better than Deku. Hands shaking, unedited, raw, and briefly read over for clarity sake— Izuku pressed send.
He tried taking a breath, accepting that this needed to be done. There was barely a beat before the message was read at 8:27pm.
Izuku’s breath caught in his chest as he sat up in his bed. He thought he’d have to wait longer.
The bubbles kept moving.
Izuku thought of all the possibilities of the reply. Would Kacchan be mad? Would they really break-up?
Then it stopped.
The bubbles stopped typing.
A minute passed.
Then five.
Izuku bit his lip, staring at the empty screen as a pressure started rising in his chest.
Ten minutes passed. Izuku rubbed his face, muttering into the silence, “Yeah, that makes sense”.
Izuku should’ve expected this as an outcome. This was Kacchan. He didn’t give warning or time or ease into it to give him space to breathe. Izuku just dumped everything on him all at once. How was he supposed to reply? “Okay, we’re falling apart?”
Fifteen minutes and his thoughts were racing now—combing through every sentence as he re-read what now felt like a choker, his throat tightening a little more with every word.
Why did he say he was worthless? Point out all his flaws and insecurities for Katsuki to easily identify?
It was too much.
Too fast.
He should've waited.
He should've called.
After thirty minutes, Izuku still had no new notifications and his phone dimmed. He took a deep inhale to center himself. He couldn't change what was already done. He could only breathe through the outcome.
After forty-five minutes he willed himself to move.
He drifted to the kitchen, turning off any lingering lights or opening doors along the way. He moved slowly as if he’d combust with too much force— losing himself in his self-appointed tasks. He cleared the remnants of dinner, wiping down the table and surrounding counters. He was methodical in the way he cleaned the dishes—scrubbing places that were already clean, drying everything off inch by inch instead of allowing the air to dry them.
He repositioned the pillows on the couch in the living room, swept the floor, organized the piles of shoes and books strewn about. He did anything to ignore the trembling in his hands, as if he focused on the mundane he would forget the reality of the situation—There was still no reply.
His room felt colder now—smaller. He lugged on his pajamas quietly, slipping into bed. He had no idea how long he laid there.
Izuku turned his head— shocked when it was sticky and wet. He didn’t realize he was crying. He cleaned off his face on his shirt, tossing it with his other dirty clothes in the corner of the room, turning over.
In a last desperate attempt he checked his phone— hope pooling in his chest that he'd see his boyfriend’s name. Izuku held in tears as he saw nothing but the time: 11:35pm. It’d been over three hours and nothing but silence consumed him—fear followed. The realization sat in his chest a minute before spreading, settling uncomfortably into his gut and squeezing at his neck. His body was heavy as he laid back in bed still cold under the weight of a once comforting quilt—staring unblinking at the ceiling. He faded into the darkness. What else was there to do? He just had to—
A sharp knock on the door shocked Izuku out of his thoughts.They weren't expecting anyone.
He checked his phone again— 12:18am.
It was too late for visitors.
Grabbing the bat he kept by his bed he moved swiftly to the door. The knocking came again, harder this time—more urgent as it echoed through the entire house. If his mom wasn’t awake yet she would be now.
He moved wordlessly through the hallway finding his mother’s room empty. Crap. He moved faster, racing towards the front door. It was no use his mother had beat him to it— her fingers grazing the knob.
“Wait…mom!” he panicked, desperately scared of whatever stood on the other side.
“Who is knocking this late, Izuku?”
He couldn’t answer.
Not for sure.
But deep down he already knew.
The door opened.
There he was.
Katsuki Bakugo stood on the porch flushed. He was ridged, breathing heavily, eyes wide searching for something. As they found Izuku behind his mother his shoulders relaxed only slightly. When looking at his face it was clear he’d been crying, and based on the puffiness already accumulating beneath those pools of crimson— it had been for a while. He was still in his practice uniform, a boring light gray so unlike the brightness Izuku associated with Katsuki. An open zip-up casually thrown over it to combat the chill nighttime brings—hoodie up. Katsuki turned his attention back to Inko bowing.
“I’m sorry, Auntie.” He started, rising to meet her eyes as his voice scraped “ I know it’s late, I just…” He glanced Izuku's way once again “I had to talk to him”.
Inko’s eyes widened as she took in a sharp breath "Don't tell me you drove all the way here with your concussion, Katsuki.” The blonde gave a small smile in response, shaking his head ‘no’ at the light scolding.
“No, my team—my friend Kirishima drove me,” Katsuki replied, a tad scratchy. Izuku’s eyes got wide, his mom did know he wasn’t telling the whole truth. He’d never told her about Katsuki’s concussion— scared her heart wouldn't be able to take it. Mitsuki and Inko were friends after all— He should've predicted this as a possible outcome.
Inko gave a relieved smile before yawning. “I’ll leave you boys to it then, I'm going back to bed. If you're going to yell, please do it outside.” She started to her room before pausing briefly “It really is nice to see you Katsuki.”
“You too, Auntie. Thank you. I’m sorry for disturbing you.” He started to bow again but Inko was already gone, closing her bedroom door behind her. His eyes immediately went to Izuku, dashing toward him.
He shut the door—reaching Izuku before he could process it.
He’s here.
Bakugo is in his house.
“I— fuck— I’m sorry I didnt tell you I was coming. Part of me was scared you wouldn't let me in.” Katsuki laughed, his eyes roaming Izuku’s face, but Izuku couldn't tell what he was looking for. “I was gonna surprise you next weekend but after your message I knew I had to talk to you sooner.” He huffed —out of breath— as if he ran the distance here. “So I asked Kirishima when we got out of practice early, he was the only one I knew with a car.” Izuku was still stunned, stuck in place while the bat trailed the floor beside him. Katsuki looked at his lover once more before inhaling.
“I’m sorry I made you do it all alone. You're usually so composed. So… prepared. And I would just,” He adjusted his hood “I didn't want to mess it up. So I let you do it. You're always so good at eve— he trailed off shaking his head, “Regardless, I should've noticed you weren’t happy.”
Izuku’s eyes started to water. He was stuck, rooted in Katsuki’s revelation. He owed him that— after dumping all his emotions on the hothead he deserved to be listened to.
“And I knew we were pulling apart,” He gripped his chest as if he could clutch his own heart, “ I just didn’t want to fight and add to your stress. I know you worry about me when I get hurt or whatever and I know a concussion and a twisted ankle feel big for you. But I've had 14 concussions and 4 sprained ankles in college sports alone. I can handle it.” Izuku tried not to gape at the numbers, realizing Kacchan had only told him of 3 or 4 of those injuries— Izuku had seen Kacchan get a concussion once their sophomore year and it was far too scary for him to want to experience again.
“But when the hag told me about Auntie I thought I understood why you’d been quieter. I let you have your space but it pissed me off. I was so angry you weren't talking to me.” He did a little kick, the toe of his shoe hitting the floor with a little thump. “But I didn't want to push you. I realize after your text I should've tried instead of being pissed and sad.” Izuku rarely saw Katsuki sad. It normally took something significant to elicit a reaction. Katsuki must’ve seen the confusion on Izuku’s face because he quickly amended “ I get sad when we don't talk, nerd. I want to tell you everything.” Katsuki’s eyes shined and Izuku’s breath caught. He couldn't believe he forgot how beautiful crimson could be.
“I want to talk to and be with you every second, Izuku. I could never feel like any time with you is wasted.” Katsuki smiled, soft and so unlike his usual persona, Izuku could cry at the sight— it was so pure, so beautiful.
“I’ve been lonely without you. I missed you. Talking to you, laughing, hell— even yelling at you. I don't want to do shit when you're not around and everything pisses me off. The Team said I was unbearable these past weeks. But when you said you didn’t know if we could move-in together.” He took a shaky breath, not meeting Izuku’s eyes. “Hearing you say you didn't know when we stopped turning to each other broke me, Izuku. I’ve wanted nothing but to be by your side since we were kids. That’s my dream, De-Izuku.” Izuku flinched at the start of his childhood nickname, he tried to cover it up but the name was like kunai aiming at all the places he held close.
“Shit, Izuku why do you do that?” Katsuki sighed, taking his hands, rubbing his knuckles as he guided the green-headed boy to the floor. "You're Izuku to everyone, but you're Deku to me.” Izuku averted his eyes “I know what it used to mean but you are not worthless. You're the farthest from it. I call you Deku when I’m so overwhelmed I don't know what to do except revert to the way my tongue first remembered your face. “ Izuku looked back at Kacchan to peer into his eyes. He was shocked to see the words coming out if his mouth were true.
“Deku is everything I could begin to care about. I call you Deku because it means my world. Because you're mine.” They were both crying now, holding on to each other as the words washed over them both.
“Never say you're not as good as Deku, Izuku. You're both my hero.” Kacchan sobbed. “Hero’s need help too. I'll remember that. I promise I will”. The boys held each other, hugging as they cried together.
“God—Izuku you are never too much.” Izuku clung to his boyfriend, trying to catch his breath as his chest heaved. He’d thought it was over that he’d pushed him away but here he was in his arms— confessing and saying exactly what Izuku needed to hear— one of Kacchan’s specialties.
Izuku pinched himself through his fabric, checking that this was real— But it was. Kacchan was here, a blubbering mess, whispering in his ear like a prayer “I’m never leaving you” over and over and Izuku nuzzled in his neck, relaxed into the mantra feeling the same.
The night ticked on but the boys stayed tangled in each other as if scared to disappear the second they let go. They cried holding one another until their limbs fell asleep. Only then did Katsuki lift his lover, guiding them both to the bed to finally rest.
As Izuku faded into sleep nestled in the crook of Kacchan’s chest— the adrenaline finally waning enough to rest—he felt a kiss on his temple. Izuku senses dissolved as the darkness took over. In the moments before he collapsed he heard Kacchan’s voice:
“I love you, Deku”.
And though he was too far gone to reply the response came instantly:
I love you too, Kacchan.