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Izuku finds him on the roof, hunched over with his elbows to his knees. He’s breathing heavily, shoulders shaking.
“Fuck off, Eijirou,” he mutters, bringing up an arm to wipe at his face.
“It’s me, actually.”
Katsuki goes still. He turns his head just a fraction of an inch, but doesn’t say anything. Izuku stands there for a long moment, unsure how to break down the wall between them.
“I’m sorry,” he says finally.
“No. Stop. Don’t you fucking dare.”
Izuku swallows. “I didn’t mean to bring all of that up again. I wasn’t — I didn’t think it would go there, and if I had known —”
“I said stop it. You don’t — You — If you’re trying to make me feel guilty, it’s fucking working, okay?”
“I’m wasn’t trying —”
“I know that, Deku — Izuku. God.”
Katsuki leans his head down and takes a long breath in.
“I can go,” Izuku says, turning, cheeks burning against the coolness of the night. In the dark he sees Katsuki shift, just barely glancing over his shoulder.
“Wait.”
He stops. Katsuki sniffles. “I didn’t mean to yell. In there.”
“I know.”
“No, can you listen to me for a second?” Katsuki leans back, tilting his face toward the stars. “I was wrong to hurt you in middle school, and when we got to UA, and tonight. Yeah, I say shit I don’t mean sometimes, but… I meant it, back then, and it was wrong. So… I’m sorry.”
“I forgive you.”
Katsuki’s knuckles pop as he grips the edge of the rooftop. “You shouldn’t say that so easily.”
“But —”
“Just fucking — I hurt you, Deku, and I — I’m still doing it. You know you’re allowed to be angry at me, okay? You don’t have to pretend you’re not.”
Izuku steps closer, noting the way Katsuki’s whole body goes tense. “I’m not angry,” he says. “That was a long time ago. I’m not happy about everything that happened, but… I wouldn’t be the same person I am today if any of it had happened any differently.”
“Stop.”
“Kacchan —”
“Stop trying to make me feel better,” he snarls, whirling around. His face gleams in the moonlight, wet with tears. “I was an asshole. And now everyone knows, so you don’t need to act like you’re okay with it anymore.”
“But I am okay with it,” Izuku insists. Katsuki’s jaw goes tense. “The way you treated me back then was wrong, but — you’re not like that anymore. Maybe superficially, sometimes, but I know you care, deep down.”
“Deku…”
“Maybe you haven’t always been my friend,” Izuku says, “but I will never stop being yours.”
He walks over and sits next to Katsuki, swinging his feet against the side of the building. He nudges their shoulders together, and Katsuki goes tense again but doesn’t pull away.
He waits a moment before slowly, tentatively leaning his head on Katsuki’s shoulder. Katsuki goes still, and for a second Izuku thinks he’s gone too far, that Katsuki will push him away — but then Katsuki gingerly rests his head against Izuku’s, leaning his whole body closer.
Izuku feels him swallow, hears the rapid beat of his heart just below his skin.
“For what it’s worth,” Katsuki says, quietly, “you’re… a pretty good friend.”
“Thanks, Kacchan,” he says, smiling. “So are you.”