Archive of Our Own

Izuku doesn’t know it yet, but after tonight, he’s free. It might be Katsuki’s most impossible feat to overcome, but he will finally give Izuku up.

To think only a few months ago, he was the happiest he’d ever fucking been. Soaring beside Izuku in the sky again, tears of relief swept away by the wind, he thought he had done it. He had actually revived their dream eight years withered, pouring all his time and cash and purpose into it until it breathed back to life in the shape of the most advanced super suit on the planet.

And Izuku loved it. The grin on his face had been the size of the planet, not one of the countless muted ones he often gave. When he pulled Katsuki to the side afterward, thanking him earnestly with those familiar stars in his eyes, Katsuki almost spilled his guts right then and there. How he was worth every sleepless night, every extra shift, every yen spent. How Katsuki couldn’t and didn’t even want to live without him by his side, always, and how he hoped Izuku felt the same.

In the end he didn’t, content to wait in order not to overwhelm Izuku. He had already waited for eight years; what was another few weeks? They had time—the rest of their lives. The exhilaration of it all had threatened to burst Katsuki’s chest open for a second time, but in the moment he welcomed it with open arms. He wanted the explosion to go off, he wanted to rise from the ashes again—this time into the life they were meant to live this whole time.

Then that damn reunion happened.

When it turned out he was in the wrong blast zone all along, at first he thought he was… alright. He could swallow down the disappointment, the desolation, the same way he has the last decade. The status quo between them would stay the same, as childhood friends, as confidants, as each other’s biggest supporters. They could still meet up periodically, only the two of them, catching up on villains of the week and lesson plans, maybe watch a nerdy documentary. Katsuki would keep going home alone, never asking to stay, no matter how much he wanted to.

That had always been enough, hadn’t it?

Turns out, grief and heartbreak go down a lot more bitter than hope and devotion. Especially when, any day now, he’d need to start giving Izuku back to certain gravity-defying hands that would hold him a lot more gently than Katsuki ever could have.

So—he’s decided. He’s going to let go. No more guest spots at UA, no more daily texting or trips to Izuku’s dorky stores. He has to let go, because the longing that once drove him is now killing him slowly. Maybe one day Katsuki will figure out how to want something—someone else, thinks maybe he won’t, but that’s not Izuku’s problem. He’s not even angry, just—fucking sad. Katsuki’s going to miss him a lot.

He gets one last night to keep Izuku to himself at least.

Nursing his third beer, Katsuki sits at Izuku’s kitchen island, watching the other man finish up the dishes. It’s their same Friday night routine they’ve had for years, with Katsuki doing the cooking and Izuku cleaning up after. Izuku never lets him help since Katsuki never lets him near the stove. Not that he doesn’t trust Izuku, who has picked up plenty of culinary knowledge being the observant freak that he is, but Katsuki liked treating him, after a long week raising the brats of the next generation.

He had considered letting Izuku help tonight, just once, to see what it was like. If they would bicker playfully like always when Katsuki argued Izuku was doing something wrong, if Izuku’s hand would touch his waist to move him out of the way, if they’d get into a food fight that left them covered in flour. If the meal would taste better than any other one, like Katsuki always assumed it would.

He decided against it, though. He doesn’t need another mirage of everything he’s ever wanted to fucking haunt him.

An upbeat song plays from the tinny speakers of Izuku’s phone that he bounces along to as he finishes up, unaware that Katsuki’s soaking up the domestic scene for the last time. His rhythm’s not the greatest but Katsuki never minded, always found it endearing and distracting, especially like this. The sleeves of his button up are pushed to his elbows, throat exposed with that damn tie off to avoid it getting wet. His hips sway to the music, drawing Katsuki’s gaze to the tight hug of his work slacks that Katsuki doesn’t normally let himself linger on like he does now—while he still can.

He has to remind himself that Izuku does the dishes because he’s polite to a fault. He dances to the music because he likes it, not because he’s comfortable enough in Katsuki’s presence that he forgets to edit himself. They’re friends who have dinner together weekly because they were single, lonely bachelors, and soon Izuku’s Friday nights will be tangled up with someone more special to him.

None of this is his to keep, it never was, never would be. Katsuki was just deluded, short-sighted. Blinded by what he wanted so badly that he couldn’t discern reality anymore.

Katsuki downs the rest of his beer as Izuku finishes drying the last plate, wiping his hands and turning to look at him. He gives Katsuki an oblivious grin that hurts to look at directly.

“You want another?”

Katsuki wonders if he shouldn’t, haziness creeping at corners of his vision, but he answers, “If you’ll have one.”

“Kacchan’s such a bad influence on me,” Izuku teases, giving him a quick wink before heading to the fridge.

“Yeah, I know.”

Izuku giggles like Katsuki’s joking, the light, airy one Katsuki has yet to hear around others. The one that makes him still sound like the snot-nosed brat Katsuki met on the playground, the one version of Izuku that he gets to keep to himself. He grunts back to avoid any suspicion. Izuku has always, always been better than him, but Katsuki doesn’t want to spend their last night alone arguing with him about it.

When Izuku comes over with the bottles, he grabs Katsuki’s hand and playfully presses one into his palm, still giggling. Not that long ago, Katsuki would’ve thought—or let himself believe that Izuku was flirting with him, made braver by their tipsiness. He would’ve been fighting back a pleased blush then. A slight warmth still rises to Katsuki’s cheeks, but the gaping pit in his stomach devours any usual flutters.

Leaning dangerously close over the counter, Izuku launches into another story of the night, always Katsuki’s motor mouth. As much as he loves Izuku’s stories, the way he tells them—with his big, marked up hands flying through the air, uninhibited—Katsuki loses track almost immediately. He’s too distracted by how good Izuku looks in this moment, glowing amber under his kitchen lights.

Of course, on their final night like this, Izuku couldn’t look more unfairly perfect.

Katsuki’s gaze slides to Izuku’s face, from his perpetually messy hair to his devastating eyes, to the surviving freckles on one cheek and badass scar down the other. A few years ago, one of Izuku’s students accidentally broke his nose, leaving the slightest bump that no one else would notice but Katsuki sure, pathetically did. Izuku’s jaw has long filled out but he’s still such a baby face, a maddening mix of handsome and sweet.

Then there’s his mouth still going a mile a minute, pink and a little chapped. A mouth Katsuki has thought about kissing since he was fourteen years old.

The only mouth, at that. Awake and asleep, imagining it so many times. In middle school and waking up in a thrashing, angry panic. In high school and burying his face in his pillows to muffle his frustrated scream, trying to ignore the stickiness in his boxers. On and on through the years, through fantasy battles and sickly sweet domestic shit and heady moments in bed and—

“Kacchan, are you even listening to me?”

Katsuki realizes with a flinch he’s been staring at Izuku’s mouth for god knows how long, but luckily the nerd doesn’t seem to realize. He merely looks at Katsuki a little concerned, a little playful. Cute. So goddamn cute he can’t stand it. Maybe he has had too much to drink.

Except now he can’t help but think they’ve known each other their entire lives and have never talked about romance, sex, none of it, not genuinely. An off-hand comment about an objectively attractive person maybe, but that’s about it. Not that Katsuki had anything to report that wasn’t damning, and Izuku—well, he had always wondered why Izuku didn’t share, and ultimately had been too much of a coward to ask.

Seeing as it’s their last night, though… is there really anything to lose?

“Have you ever kissed someone?” Katsuki croaks out before he can talk himself out of it. His heart pounds as Izuku’s jaw drops open, going almost instantly bright red.

“Wha—Kacchan! What kind of question is that?” he exclaims nervously, averting his eyes to the other side of the room.

“Just a question, nerd,” Katsuki says, trying to stay casual. “Don’t gotta tell me if you’re too much of a prude or somethin’. ‘Course, I’ll assume the answer is a big fat no but—”

“I’m 25! Of course I’ve kissed people.”

The blow hurts more than he expected it would. Of course, of fucking course, he’s kissed people, as in more than one person, because Izuku’s not some loser who’s been sitting around waiting for his childhood friend. It’s not jealousy that threatens to choke him, although it is that too, but the resignation he really doesn’t know Izuku like he always thought. The lesson keeps getting drilled into him lately, and it hurts just as bad every time.

Katsuki takes another long sip of his drink to bide him a moment, then decides to dig the knife in further. He steadies his gaze on Izuku and asks, “Oh yeah? With who?”

“Kacchan, I can’t kiss and tell—”

“’kay, then I call bullshit.”

“Kacchan,” Izuku whines, clearly flustered, but eventually gives. He picks at the label on his own beer bottle as he lists some extras Katsuki doesn’t know and extras he’ll have to blast in the face next time he sees them: that bird boy shit from Otheon, fucking Shinso, the girl from Izuku’s uni Katsuki never liked, along with a few casual others from parties over the years. It’s only a small comfort a certain pink-cheeked brunette is not among them.

Katsuki tries very hard to keep the grimace off his face, the black hole in his gut expanding, eyes burning. Good to know Izuku does kiss men, another thing to tack onto the list of stark realizations— just not Katsuki.

“You never told me.”

He tries not to sound too accusatory but Izuku crosses his arms. “I mean, well, we don’t—well! What about you! You never said anything either!” he throws back.

Katsuki takes a deep breath. Part of him wonders if he should make something up—he’s sure any one of his idiots would back him up if questioned, or invent some random fuck like Izuku apparently goes after, but he can’t bring himself to lie to Izuku’s face. Another reason why he’s never brought this up before, and now he’s trapped himself into it.

“That’s ‘cause there’s nothing to tell,” Katsuki says.

That cuts Izuku’s budding rampage at its roots instantly, his body going still. He stares at Katsuki with those wide doll eyes of his, that pink mouth completely quiet for once. Katsuki tries not to squirm under the direct attention, hating himself for still basking in it so much. He just… wants Izuku’s eyes on him, always.

“That… can’t be true,” Izuku finally says, disbelief all over his expression.

“Hah?” Katsuki points a finger at him, a growl in his voice that slips out. “You callin’ me a liar?”

“Well, no, but…!” Izuku flaps his hands a little wildly, gesturing to Katsuki. “I mean, come on, look at you!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Izuku huffs an unamused laugh. “Oh come on, like you don’t know you’re, you know—you’re all—you! You’re powerful and talented and, um, your face…”

Izuku’s blush from before has flared back up, and Katsuki suspects he doesn’t look much better. “My face?” he asks warily.

“You have a n-nice face, is all. You could have your pick of anyone, I think!” Luckily, Izuku doesn’t seem to notice Katsuki’s flinch and continues ranting, “You’re ranked every year in top sexiest heroes, the fangirl popularity polls—I’ve seen people hit on you at bars!”

He raises his eyebrows like he’s making a point, and Katsuki shrugs. “What? Nothin’ ever happened.”

Izuku makes a strangled sound, and Katsuki doesn’t know why he’s getting so worked up. “But Kacchan, I’ve heard about multiple heroes asking you out, there was that tabloid stuff… I remember that one supermodel gushing about you after you saved her! And, and you’ve always been so busy, I always assumed…”

He trails off and Katsuki can’t do anything but shake his head, eyes briefly flicking over to the metal suitcase by the door. Part of him wishes Izuku would put the pieces together – does the nerd really not notice how his schedule is wide open for the first time since he debuted? – but the other part is fine that he doesn’t. He’s never wanted Izuku to feel guilty over him, his time, and definitely not the suit.

“It just never happened,” he says instead.

“Oh,” Izuku breathes. He starts mumbling to himself, too quiet for Katsuki to hear, evidently needing a moment to digest all the groundbreaking news. It gives Katsuki a mean sort of satisfaction, proving Izuku doesn’t know Katsuki as well as he thought either, but that just solidifies more that they’ve never been on the same page, not when it comes to matters like this.

God, he’s been such an idiot. They both are.

A dangerous stray thought nearly makes him fumble his beer bottle. Thankfully Izuku’s too in his own world to notice Katsuki flushing hot, heart kicking up again, because that’s crazy, he can’t just—just ask for Izuku to kiss him.

Can he?

But—he’s just discovered that Izuku kisses any fucker out there, so why not him? He’s evidently not off-putting enough if he can apparently date anyone else but the one he wants. They could use the alcohol as an excuse, or a favor for his pitifully alone friend that he won’t even have to see again after tonight outside of work, not that Izuku knows it.

It’s nuts. It’s a mistake. It’s the worst idea he’s ever had.

It’s… his last chance.

Katsuki breathes deeply a couple times, carefully setting his drink down next to Izuku’s.

“Izuku.”

He waits until Izuku turns his attention back on him, their eyes meeting, the other completely guileless. Katsuki raises his eyebrows, Izuku furrowing his in response. God, wasn’t there a time when they could practically reach each other’s minds? He doesn’t want to say it, he doesn’t want to ask, please just fucking get it one last time—

Eventually, Izuku jolts like he’s been hit with one of Denki’s full body shocks.

“You want me to kiss you?!” he all but screeches out.

“Why not?” Katsuki tries to keep his tone challenging, unwavering. “You kissed all those other extras but you won’t kiss me?”

“But—but—Kacchan! I’d be your first kiss!”

“So what?”

“So, um, you… you’ve been waiting for so long. Shouldn’t it be with someone special?”

It’s quite literally the worst thing Izuku could say, Katsuki swallowing back the pained noise in his throat. For a moment he’s transported back to that nightmare of a drive, already feeling his worldview splitting in two from Izuku’s casual rejection of the agency, practically begging him to open his eyes. Asking to see him as special. What a joke.

He has to blink rapidly to keep the damn tears at bay. He’s not going to fucking cry. He hasn’t since that night and he’s certainly not going to start now. He already knew Izuku didn’t think of him as special, didn’t he? That’s why he’s here tonight, silently sending Izuku off to the one who is actually special to him. Might as well at least try for a special fucking goodbye.

“It’s only a stupid kiss,” he manages to keep his voice steady.

“But I’d be Kacchan’s first kiss. Are you sure you want that with me?” Izuku asks, twisting his hands together anxiously.

Katsuki huffs a laugh that hurts his chest. If only Izuku knew. “Who else?”

His nerves fray as he watches Izuku grapple internally, eyes darting every which way. Izuku’s face twists in contemplation, his mouth moving with silent mumbling, but he still doesn’t say anything. Katsuki has no idea what the other man is thinking, and he tries not to squirm as he waits, but the longer Izuku stays silent, the more he starts to wonder if he should take it back, laugh it off, something.

Just as the silence becomes unbearable and Katsuki is about to tell him to forget it, he hears Izuku mutter, “Okay.”

“Okay?” Katsuki repeats faintly.

Izuku finally meets his eyes again. “Y-yes, okay, if you’re sure. I’ll… kiss you.”

Katsuki doesn’t know if Izuku’s moving slowly or if time itself has slowed, watching him exhale shakily and step around the island. The closer he gets, the more rattled he seems. Katsuki’s not faring any better, his heart pounding in his ears, chest tight. His eyes keep burning, but he can’t look away. He never can.

Izuku comes to stand uncertainly in front of Katsuki, flushed bright red like his old shoes and pulling at his collar as though he needs the extra air. Katsuki distantly wonders if he should stand up but he’s not sure his legs would support him, spreading them instead for Izuku to step hesitantly between.

His hand reaches out, and Katsuki’s traitorous mind flashes to that goddamn river, wondering for the millionth time where’d they be if he hadn’t slapped Izuku’s little one away. He doesn’t slap it away this time at least, and it settles like a searing brand on the back of his neck.

Fuck, Izuku’s really about to kiss him.

This is it.

Izuku leans closer and Katsuki can smell the hops on his breath, the spice from their dinner washing over his face. His vision’s full of his favorite shades of green, and eventually he has to close his eyes against the onslaught. His hands dangle uselessly at his sides, unsure of what to do with them. He hopes Izuku doesn’t notice him starting to tremble.

Then Izuku’s nose brushes against his, making Katsuki sharply inhale. He doesn’t close the distance right away, clearly hesitating, until Katsuki can’t take it anymore.

“Izuku,” he exhales, silently pleading.

Izuku kisses him.

It’s… soft, a long, gentle press of his mouth against Katsuki’s. Then he moves slightly, his lip snagging on Katsuki’s in a way that makes him shiver, before crowding in again. Katsuki always assumed they would crash together like they always have through everything else in their lives, but the way Izuku kisses him is quiet. Easy.

Amazing.

Katsuki has no idea how long the kiss lasts, can’t formulate another thought beyond Izuku. He does know he doesn’t want it to end, but eventually Izuku starts to pull away, both of them breathing hard like they did more than just share a simple kiss. When their eyes meet, Izuku seems dazed, almost dumbfounded, and before he can move too far away, Katsuki’s hand springs out to twist into Izuku’s shirt.

He shouldn’t, he knows, but he can’t help himself, he just can’t. It wasn’t enough, that can’t be it forever. He’s not ready to let go yet.

“Is that all you got, nerd?” he whispers hoarsely.

The challenge lights a familiar fire in Izuku’s gaze that Katsuki doesn’t see enough of these days. The look that makes Katsuki blaze up beside him, the one that gets his adrenaline singing, the one he fucking fell in love with.

When Izuku kisses him again, they collide.

Izuku captures Katsuki’s mouth with his own, fierce and unrelenting, stealing all the air in Katsuki’s lungs in one fell swoop. An arm wraps around Katsuki’s back and then suddenly he’s being tipped back in his stool, making him scramble to grab Izuku by the shoulders. He has no idea what he’s doing as he’s covered in Izuku, tasting him when he slips his tongue into Katsuki’s mouth. Izuku guides his inexperience with command, gnarled fingers threading through his hair deliciously tight, and Katsuki can’t do anything but follow him best he can, kissing him back and back and back.

It’s so stupidly, ridiculously good. Somewhat hysterically, breath hitching, he wonders if it was worth the wait. It was, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it? Maybe it’s not a total victory, but he got his first kiss from Izuku in the end, and kissing Izuku in real life surpasses any dream, fantasy. More exhilarating than any battle Katsuki’s ever fought, and now he knows.

It’s enough, it has to be enough. It was worth it, goddamn it.

Katsuki clutches Izuku closer, legs closing around his hips like he could keep him there, even though he knows he can’t. Any moment Izuku will pull away again and Katsuki will have to let him go. He’ll shuffle back with an embarrassed laugh and he’ll return to chasing after someone else, leaving Katsuki behind in the disintegrating remains of the dreams he thought they shared, and Katsuki won’t follow this time. Izuku doesn’t want him to, he reminds himself again and again.

And so what if Katsuki’s realizing with excruciating clarity that he may never move again? That he’ll spend the rest of his pathetic life stuck reliving this moment in Izuku’s shitty fucking kitchen, agonizing over the way Izuku held him desperately tight, the way he gasped into Katsuki’s mouth? So what if Kacchan Bakugo has always been and will always be a fool for Izuku Midoriya? He can’t help that Izuku’s ingrained into his very core, couldn’t rip him out before no matter how many times he tried, and he certainly won’t be able to now.

So—so yeah, it was worth the wait, it has to be, and Katsuki will be just fine watching Izuku slip further and further away from him. He’ll have this, and he’ll let go, he’ll give up, he will, he will, he will—

“Kacchan?”

When Izuku pulls away, Katsuki despises the wounded sound that comes out of him, snapping his mouth closed a beat too late. It’s a struggle to open his eyes, which he doesn’t understand, vision blurred when he does. He can’t fucking think, unable to catch his breath. When Izuku swims into focus, he looks stricken.

“Kacchan, you’re crying,” he whispers, and Katsuki’s brain finally kicks back online.

Fuck, Izuku’s right. He is crying.

Immediately he pushes Izuku’s arms off him, turning away and scrubbing at his painfully drenched face. He’s goddamn mortified, especially when he realizes he can’t stop. With every tear wiped away, another slips down, a dam undone, like every shitty ass emotion he’s felt over the last few months has surged to the surface. This cannot be happening.

He realizes that Izuku is speaking to him, probably has been for a while, “—ease talk to me. I’m so sorry, I didn’t want it to be bad! I went too far, didn’t I? I didn’t realize what I was doing, and, and I made you uncomfortable—”

The distress in his voice is enough to cut through Katsuki’s own, at least a little. He’s gotta save this somehow, but never at the expense of Izuku. The only one at fault here is Katsuki.

If only he would stop crying.

“Oi, cut that shit out,” he croaks. He still can’t turn to look at the other man. “You didn’t do anything I didn’t want you to do, so shut up.”

Well, that’s a bit damning. Katsuki winces, more traitorous tears cresting over, but hell if he can’t pull himself together, can’t calm down, doesn’t know what to say. He’d been doing so well before, too, ignoring the immense grief trying to swallow him down. Now that it has, he can’t find his way out.

“Then why are you upset?” Izuku asks urgently.

“’m not.”

“Kacchan…”

“I’m not!” Katsuki can’t bear this, he really fucking can’t. He should’ve kept his fucking mouth shut. Intent on fleeing out the door, he stumbles to his feet. “It’s nothing, alright, just my own fucking thing. D-don’t worry about it. I’m—I’m just gonna go—”

“No! You can’t!” Izuku grabs Katsuki’s wrist and stops him, fingers digging in tight enough to sting. “Please, you can’t leave like this, it can’t be nothing. Talk to me, please, I’m begging you.”

Katsuki can feel himself waver. The last thing he wants is Izuku hurting. He’s caused him enough grief in the past to last a lifetime—more than enough to outweigh keeping what’s left of his dignity intact, even.

“Zuku,” he tries one last time, resolve already crumbling. “Let me go.”

“Never,” Izuku replies almost fiercely, which only makes things worse. “Kacchan, please.”

He finally faces him, knowing he must look an absolute mess judging by Izuku’s sorrowful gaze. Izuku’s mouth’s still red from their kissing, his hair even more disheveled from where Katsuki must’ve mussed it in his pathetic desperation. He doesn’t know what to do, how to save himself.

“It’s me. You can tell me anything, can’t you?”

Katsuki can’t, he absolutely cannot, but he is so weak for Izuku’s pleas, beseeching him those lethal eyes. He’s always been so damnably weak when it comes to Izuku, it’s not fair. What the hell’s he supposed to tell him? He could blame it on the beer, maybe the long week—but then he’s a coward and a liar.

More hot, helpless tears track down his face. He starts shaking. Nearly a decade later and it’s like he’s back in the hospital after the war, barely held together by thread and bandages, heart recently blown to pieces. Standing in the ruins of Katsuki’s dreams, telling Izuku he wanted to chase after him the rest of their lives and knowing he can’t—he’s right back where he started.

Katsuki tries clearing his throat but his voice still comes out this awful, garbled thing. “Fucking… fine. During the war, I… made a promise to myself.”

“The war?” Izuku echoes, all his nervous fidgeting freezing. They’ve only ever talked about the war a handful of times, after all. Katsuki knows the war messed Izuku up more than he lets on, but he’s never pushed, because then he might have to admit he came away from the battlefield transformed by more than just trauma.

“I thought about you,” Katsuki forces out. Izuku’s eyes go wide but he can’t let himself stop now or he’ll never say it. “A lot. The whole fuckin’ time. And when I was fighting that rat bastard at the end, I—I remember swearin’ that I wasn’t gonna get in your way anymore.”

“Oh, Kacchan…”

Katsuki holds up his palms imploringly before Izuku can open his mouth and assumedly start reassuring him. “Stop, I meant it, okay? I never want your life harder ‘cause of me again. I respect your choices and I ain’t trying to make ya feel bad. This is all on me. I fucked up.”

“What is it?” Izuku asks gently.

God, is he really going to say this? The truth thrashes on the back of his tongue that still tastes faintly like Izuku. Well, he’s come this far. Squeezing his fists closed, Katsuki shoves the words out, voicing the truth that has been haunting him since Izuku left him behind.

“I just thought… that even if I wasn’t gonna be in your way, I was gonna stand there beside you instead.”

Izuku furrows his brow, looking down at himself as though he could’ve possibly disappeared, the dork. Katsuki would smile if he wasn’t so terrified. “What do you mean? I’m here, I’m right he—”

“No, Izuku,” Katsuki rasps. “You’re not. Not… the way I want you.”

The kitchen is quiet but for Izuku’s shaky exhale and Katsuki’s blaring heartbeat. Katsuki watches the face he memorized long ago phase through a myriad of dangerous emotions in real time—confusion, deep contemplation, and then a dreaded dawning realization. His eyes go wider than Katsuki’s ever seen them. Fuck, fuck. He prays Izuku won’t ask, but of course he does, barely a whisper.

“H-how do you want me, Kacchan?”

“Don’t make me say it,” Katsuki implores quietly, already defeated. He knows there’s no out. “Don’t you get it?”

“N-no, no I don’t think I do. I’m an idiot, remember, you tell me that all the time. You gotta—you gotta tell me, I have to know. H-how does Kacchan want m-me?”

Squeezing his eyes shut, Katsuki takes another valiant swipe at his face. He manages a breath that’s almost deep and straightens his spine to meet his maker. Fine, fine. He’s going to have to spell it out for the nerd. There’s no going back and it was over after tonight anyway, so—so— fuck it. Of course he’d go out with a whimper and a goddamn bang.

When Katsuki speaks again, it feels like he’s not even in his body anymore. Fresh streaks of tears escape beneath his eyelids, blazing down his face.

“Well… I’m fucking in love with you, so I guess every way I can, alright?”

And just like that, a secret he’s held tight to his chest for almost two decades has been wrenched free. Unable to take it back, play it off, act like it’s not out there, ugly and painfully visible for Izuku to see.

Several beats pass in silence. Katsuki doesn’t want to open his eyes, waiting for the execution’s swing. He just wants this to be over. He can already envision Izuku’s pitying expression. He’s probably working through the revelation, trying to figure out how most kindly he can let Katsuki down. At the end of the day, Izuku will always be selfless, pushing any of his own discomfort aside. Katsuki is the selfish one for even telling him. Always too damn selfish when it comes to Izuku.

“Kacchan,” the other man says finally. “Look at me.”

Despite the dread, Katsuki does, ready for the second letdown of a lifetime.

What he doesn’t expect is for Izuku to have crowded back into his space. He doesn’t expect the wild, intensely bright sheen to those emerald eyes. He certainly doesn’t expect Izuku’s flush to have returned, practically tomato red, as though his blood pressure might make his head pop off. He’s practically vibrating.

Katsuki doesn’t understand.

A sudden brush against his hand has him flinching in surprise, trying to pull back but Izuku won’t let him. Instead he grabs on and tangles their fingers together, squeezing them almost too tight.

Izuku takes a staggered breath. When he speaks, his voice shakes. “Kacchan really… loves me?”

“I’m not repeatin’ it,” Katsuki says quickly, sounding pitiful to his own ears. “Look, like I said, I messed up.”

“N-no, Kacchan, no. You didn’t. You didn’t.”

“Oh, no?” he bites back. “I already know what comes next, don’t I? I know you don’t want the same thing. You don’t wanna work with me, you don’t wanna be my partner, and you don’t want me, you want—”

“I want you,” Izuku interrupts with a rush.

Katsuki blinks. “…What?”

“I…I do, I want you. And—” Izuku actually barks out a slightly hysterical laugh, a fucking smile blooming across his face. He’s got the same crazed look in his eyes as he does at the beginning of a fight. Katsuki doesn’t know what’s happening. “Holy shit, Kacchan. You love me. I… I love you, too.”

The air snaps from the room then, taking his breath with it.

That’s… not right.

Surely he can’t have heard Izuku properly, his mind playing tricks on him after years of delusion. Too long spent imagining him returning Katsuki’s stupid feelings, before he knew better. Ears ringing and alarm bells sounding, he stares at Izuku, waiting for the catch that must be coming, but nothing changes. Izuku keeps grinning back at him as if the world isn’t spiraling sideways, his thumb stroking over Katsuki’s knuckle in a way that might be soothing any other time.

Katsuki doesn’t believe it.

“No, you don’t,” he eventually manages because it’s just not fucking possible.

“But I do,” Izuku says, which doesn’t make any goddamn sense.

“You don’t.”

“Kacchan, I do, I love—”

“Stop!” Katsuki rips his hands away from Izuku’s, stumbling back a few feet. He literally can’t stay still, his blood thrumming, heart somewhere in the back of his throat. Izuku follows him, keeping his distance but barely, and he’s still smiling away like he’s happy. The frenzy keeps rising in him. “You don’t get to say that to me when you turned my ass down six weeks ago!”

Izuku’s mouth falters, somehow taken aback. “Turned you down? What are you talking about?”

“Are you fucking kidding?” Katsuki demands, momentarily seeing red. It was only the most crushing night of his adult life and Izuku doesn’t even have the slightest clue? “The night of the reunion! Todoroki’s dinner?”

“I never turned you down! I mean, I turned down your agency offer, but that was nothing against you—”

“Like hell it’s not!” Normally Katsuki’s got a grip on his yelling around Izuku but he can’t help it. “It’s got everything to do with me, and—and you, and how I wanted to spend the rest of my stupid fucking life with you, and you don’t! I’m not—” damn it, he thought he was done with the crying. The word chokes in his throat. “Special to you.”

“Oh, Kacchan.”

When the understanding dawns across Izuku’s face, Katsuki huffs a sad excuse for a laugh, crossing his arms in front of him. “Yeah, ring a goddamn bell now?”

“You were talking about yourself?” Izuku asks softly.

“Fucking obviously,” he answers, a little too wobbly for his liking.

“I’m sorry, but it wasn’t that obvious.” Then Izuku frowns, reaching out and brushing a knuckle over his damp cheek. “Or… maybe it was.”

“Shut up.”

“Kacchan, I’m so sorry, I—”

Without warning, Izuku rushes forward and wraps his arms around him, pulling him into a hug.

Katsuki freezes. They might skim each other’s hands or lean on shoulders occasionally, but they definitely don’t hug. His first instinct is to resist but Izuku remains undeterred, holding him so tight that he couldn’t get away unless he put in some effort. But honestly—he doesn’t really want to.

Katsuki’s too exhausted, and it feels so fucking good, that he can’t do anything else but melt into his grip. His arms unfold and slip around Izuku’s waist, fingers clinging to Izuku’s scratchy dress shirt. He allows his forehead to rest on Izuku’s shoulder as he takes in his scent of faint cologne, laundry detergent, and… home. He smells like home.

Izuku’s fingers start carding through his hair, which makes Katsuki shudder. All the touch is a little overwhelming. He sniffs a few times and Izuku just keeps holding him, until finally the goddamn tears dry up.

When Izuku eventually speaks, his mouth brushes Katsuki’s temple. “I’m so sorry I made you feel like you’re not special to me,” he says quietly. “Of course you are. How could you not be? You’re my Kacchan. You’re… the most special.”

“Ugh, I don’t want your pity,” Katsuki groans. He still doesn’t let go. “Don’t gotta be sorry. I get it. We want different things.”

“How can you say that? You haven’t even asked what I want.”

“I know you want Cheeks.”

He doesn’t mean for it to slip out. When Izuku pulls away to look him in the eye, he regrets saying anything, but it’s not like Katsuki can ignore what he’s heard from multiple sources. He assumes that Izuku will turn guilty, remembering who’s waiting for him.

“Uraraka?” Izuku asks instead, and he looks—confused? “What’s she got to do with anything?”

“What’s she got—Izuku. I know you called her special that night. Aren’t you two practically dating? Everyone thinks so.”

“No! I mean, I’ll admit I did wonder for a second, because in some weird way I feel like I’m—I’m supposed to, or that you were telling me to—but no. She is special to me but not like that. We’re friends. Just friends who haven’t seen each other in a long time and have been catching up. That’s it, I promise.”

“Huh.” Katsuki has spent over a month agonizing over losing Izuku, shutting down when his friends brought them up, turning his face away from the tabloids who caught sight of the duo out and about. Thoughts of the two of them have been eating him alive and it turns out he was wrong? The relief barely washes out the frustration. He grumbles, “Dumb ass. I wasn’t telling you to go after her.”

“I get that now,” Izuku chuckles quietly, which stirs up the warmth threatening to thaw weeks of icy buildup in Katsuki’s chest.

A silence settles over them, Izuku looking at him so fondly that it makes Katsuki want to squirm. Now that some of the confusion has melted away, his heart starts thumping harder again. His blubbering confession hangs in the air, which, impossibly, was followed by Izuku’s in return.

Holy fuck, Izuku really confessed back.

He did, didn’t he? He didn’t imagine that? Katsuki still can’t wrap his mind around it. He was so sure going into tonight he was alone in this. There was no ounce of doubt in him. But Izuku said—he really did say—

Hope starts swelling beneath his ribcage but Katsuki isn’t ready to let it out yet.

“So,” he says eventually, scratching the back of his neck, almost reluctant to keep eye contact. “You said you… love me.”

Izuku must read his reluctance because he asks gently, “is that really so hard to believe?”

“I don’t know,” Katsuki admits. “Yes. I know all about your damn martyr complex. You sure you’re just not sayin’ that ‘cause I cried like a baby all over your kitchen?”

“Kacchan is really pretty when he cries,” Izuku smiles, which makes Katsuki’s face go hot, “but of course not. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“Well—why now then? You figure it out in the last ten minutes or something?” Katsuki tries because he still can’t believe it’s that easy. Something like panic prickles beneath his skin. He’s never wanted to be wrong this badly in his life but he won’t accept it until he’s sure.

“It’s been a lot longer than ten minutes, Kacchan.”

“Izuku… I don’t think you get it. Look, I’ll just admit it. I’m like—a psycho about you, okay? I don’t wanna share ya, I want all your time, I want your eyes only on me. It can’t be the same for you.”

“Do you even know me?” Izuku laughs, and Katsuki scowls best he can in the face of the other man practically glowing, apparently elated by the admission. “I’ve only been obsessed with you our entire lives. And—” Izuku takes one of his hands again, his scarred knuckles fitting perfectly between Katsuki’s own. “I want to spend the rest of it by your side, too.”

Katsuki barely holds back a whine, his heartbeat thumping so hard he thinks Izuku must be able to hear it. A new kind of terror begins surging through him. It’s literally all he’s ever wanted to hear Izuku say, and he doesn’t know what to do with the weight of it. Can he really accept this? Was it really this simple? Can he reach out and have Izuku the way he’s always wanted, just like that?

It’s too much.

Izuku sighs when Katsuki doesn’t—can’t respond. He starts chewing on his lip, clearly thinking through something while Katsuki stares back a bit helplessly. He doesn’t know why he’s so frozen in indecision, but it kind of feels like he’s drowning and reaching once again for Izuku to pull him up.

Izuku seems to know it, too. His eyes go wide in some kind of realization and then he’s nodding to himself.

“Can I show you something?” he asks.

He doesn’t actually wait for Katsuki to agree and begins pulling him bodily through the apartment. Katsuki has no idea what could possibly be important enough during arguably the pinnacle of their relationship, but… he’s too overcome to question it. Besides, at the end of the day, no matter what happens between them, he’d still trust Izuku with his life.

And now maybe, maybe with his heart, too.

Izuku tugs him down the hallway towards his room, which is decorated with snapshots throughout the years. Dazed, Katsuki watches Izuku’s life—their lives unspool before his eyes, seeing as he’s also in the majority of them. Photos from when they were obnoxious kids, one from graduation under the blooming sakura trees. A couple of Katsuki alone, after Izuku got into his photography hobby, usually scowling so Izuku didn’t know how much it warmed him.

He used to tease Izuku about his sentimentality, but with Izuku’s declaration echoing in his brain, he starts to wonder.

A new addition hangs at the end, one he’s never seen before, though he remembers All Might taking it. The day Izuku was gifted the suit. They’ve got their arms slung over each other’s shoulders, their hair windswept, Katsuki grinning at the camera like a maniac from his pride. Izuku, though—he’s only looking at Katsuki.

Maybe…

They reach Izuku’s bedroom. It’s only a little untidy with some discarded clothes and a rumpled bed that Izuku proceeds to lightly push him down upon. He lets go of Katsuki’s hand and starts rustling through the top drawer of his dresser, mumbling something rapidly, too quiet to hear. Katsuki notices his shoulders look a little tense, hunched toward his ears.

Curiosity sufficiently piqued, he starts to ask what Izuku’s looking for when he interrupts with a, “Found it!”

He spins around to face Katsuki, something hidden between his hands. He takes a deep breath, and then he—he—

He drops to one knee.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Katsuki blurts out.

“Don’t freak out! It’s not what you think!” Izuku exclaims, but when he opens his trembling hands, a small, velvet black box rests in his palm. “Well… it kind of is.”

He carefully pops open the lid. Sure enough, there’s a fucking ring inside: thick, shiny onyx with an inlay of what looks like a goddamn galaxy poured along the band. Starbursts of orange and, upon closer look, specks of green. When the room’s light catches it, the ring looks aglow with burning embers.

It’s beautiful. It’s badass. It can’t possibly be what he thinks it looks like.

“Explain,” he wheezes out.

Izuku gives him a nervous, tight smile. “Do you remember that fire in the shopping district before I lost One For All?”

Even though that was years ago, Katsuki nods. It was shortly before they graduated, when Izuku’s quirk was almost extinguished. What would’ve been a mass casualty event became one of his greatest, and final, saves. Katsuki had been furious with his worry after he learned about the situation, if only because he selfishly wanted to put off Izuku quitting hero work as long as possible.

“Well, one of the shopkeepers owned a jewelry store. He could actually make the jewelry with his quirk. It was kind of like Yaoyorozu’s quirk, but with his hands and strictly jewelry? I’m still not quite sure how it worked, I meant to go back and ask more questions, but it really was impressive how he could produce—”

“Izuku,” Katsuki pleads. Normally he adores Izuku’s passionate quirk rants, but not when his heart is about to give out.

“Right, sorry! So he was really grateful for saving his family’s life and offered to make me whatever I wanted. I made probably a thousand designs, but once I had this idea, I had to have it made. Just in case.”

“In case what?” Katsuki asks, more than a little desperate to hear the answer.

“That… one day…” Izuku looks down at the ring briefly and then he meets Katsuki’s eyes again, steadfast. “Kacchan would love me the way I love him. My dream of being a hero might’ve been dying, but the one where you might be mine never did. It couldn’t. It still hasn’t. I thought… if I was ever lucky enough, if you felt the same way—I’d never want to let you go.” His voice is soft when he says, “The rest of our lives, right?”

If Katsuki had any processing power left in his brain, it’s gone, spilling out his ears. After all this damn time, years of swallowing down his fucking feelings, writing off lingering looks and soft touches, convincing himself he had misconstrued everything between them—and Izuku had a ring for him tucked among his nerdy underwear? One of a kind, made in their colors, apparently in high school no less—

Breath catching, Katsuki realizes it was exactly around that time he had the idea for the suit. No fucking way. While he was carefully drafting designs that seemed almost impossible, Izuku was doing the exact same thing apparently. Tributes to each other, to a shared future neither of them could say out loud.

“You’ve had an… an engagement ring since then?” he asks, woozy from the realization.

Izuku hums in affirmation, plucking the ring out of the box and holding it higher. Up close, the details are even more stunning. Katsuki’s hand itches to reach out and take it.

“I never thought I’d get to show this to you,” Izuku says softly. “I can’t believe I am.”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“Probably the same as you, I think?” Izuku gives a weak shrug. “I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. I had convinced myself you didn’t feel the same. And sometimes—sometimes I still don’t feel worthy of standing next to you.”

“Moron,” Katsuki breathes. “That’s me, not you.”

“Then I guess we’re both a couple of morons, huh?” Izuku laughs. His eyes look a little misty. “Perfect for each other, hmm?”

For the first time all night, Katsuki feels a smile tugging at his mouth. Part of him is still afraid that he’ll wake up from this impossible dream at any moment, but the proof is literally in front of his face.

“You really love me,” Katsuki manages.

Izuku nods firmly. “I really love you.”

“Are you actually—" Katsuki almost can’t say the word, “proposing?”

“It’s your ring,” Izuku murmurs. “I’d marry you today, tomorrow—ten years from now, if that’s what you wanted. If you ever said yes to me.”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

Izuku is still on one shaky knee, presenting a ring that practically screams Katsuki’s name, looking ruffled and nervous and so damn pretty. Telling Katsuki he loves him, wants to fucking marry him, steady and sure about it. It still doesn’t feel like the image in front of him can possibly be real.

But somehow, miraculously, it is.

Something clicks into place. The hope he’s been trying so hard to push down billows up and bursts, rushing through his body with a release so profound Katsuki can hardly breathe around it.

He’s not alone. He doesn’t have to walk away. He doesn’t have to spend the rest of his life wondering what if. Izuku really wants him, permanently and irrevocably.

He doesn’t need to think about the answer.

“Yes,” he says, barely audible from the tightness in his throat.

Izuku’s eyes go wide. “W-what? Did you just say yes?”

Suddenly Katsuki can’t hold himself back. He explodes with a clumsy launch, tackling Izuku flat to the floor, arms slung around his neck. The box clatters somewhere near them and Katsuki can only trust Izuku didn’t drop his ring. His whole body weight lands on Izuku, who grunts from the impact but immediately clutches him back, burying his face into Katsuki’s hair.

“Yes, you crazy bastard,” he chokes out, so overwhelmed that he consciously has to keep his quirk from detonating. He’s not crying again but it’s a close thing, eyes stinging once more, only this time from the sheer elation. “You better mean it, ‘cause now you gotta marry me. You better not change your mind.”

“I mean every word, Kacchan,” Izuku says, winded and sounding choked up himself. “I promise.”

Katsuki pulls back just enough to look at his face. Izuku has no qualms about crying, tears streaking down his temples. Hair awry, the smile on his face brilliantly bright and almost comically wide, he is beautiful. So fucking beautiful. He looks back at Katsuki, the way he always has, the look that apparently really was love all along.

“Well?” Katsuki asks thickly, holding up his left hand. “You gonna make it official or what?”

Izuku giggles through his tears, nodding. He steadies Katsuki’s hand with his own and uses the other to gently slide the ring on his finger. Somehow it fits perfectly, heavy and claiming and right. He has never loved something more, other than the man beneath him.

“It’s explosion proof,” Izuku offers with a smile, and Katsuki grins back, happier than he’s ever fucking been.

“I fucking love you, Izuku.”

“I love you too, Kacchan.”

With that, Katsuki gently takes Izuku’s face in his hands and kisses him. Izuku grins against his mouth and then kisses him back with all the sweetness of their first and a hunger like their second. It’s just as brand new, and so much better without all of the heavy pain and fear. He’s still a little scared – holy shit they’re actually fucking engaged! – but compared to the relief flooding through his veins, he couldn’t care less. All he cares about is his goddamn fiancé.

Katsuki can’t help but touch him, running his hands over Izuku’s hair, his broad shoulders, tracing the scars he’s memorized up his arms, hidden beneath his button up. Izuku shivers, sharply inhaling. It’s intoxicating, feeling the body he spent so long building a suit to protect and uplift, finally under his. He’d do it again ten times over, he’d do anything for this man, and that was always going to be the case.

Thank fuck he was wrong. To think he almost walked away, that he came through the door expecting to say goodbye. He would’ve lost his Friday dinners, their nerdy adventures out, lazy days on the couch. He never would’ve known how Izuku chases after his mouth or the noise he makes when Katsuki kisses his jaw. He wouldn’t have a ring on his finger swearing forever.

Eventually he’ll tell Izuku how low and desperate he got, but not tonight. Not on what turned into the best one of Katsuki’s life.

No way he’s giving Izuku up now.