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They’ve said their vows. Exchanged the rings.
Izuku watches, paralysed, as they kiss.
Everyone is clapping. Cheering. Some crying, some laughing. Izuku can only stare blindly. He watches as the love of his life is promised to someone else. Watches as Kacchan devotes his entire life and his entire being to someone other than him.
He expected to cry. He’s not surprised when the tears come running. It’s not the usual loud, nasally type of crying he does when he’s happy, or shocked. He’s completely still, completely silent.
Someone taps on his arm eagerly, and he turns. Mina meets his eyes, standing at her assigned “maid of honour” position, the ecstatic smile on her face contrasting Izuku’s inner turmoil so much that he finds it morbidly funny. She looks overjoyed, eyes crinkling at the corners and wet with tears of joy. Her smile is bright and excited, but it fades.
His lack of expression must be enough to give her an idea of what he’s really feeling, with the way her eyes suddenly go from enthusiastic to evidently concerned. He schools his face into something more emotive, a wobbly smile appearing on his lips. His voice breaks when he speaks, “I’m so proud of Kacchan.”
And it’s true, he is proud of him. He’s so glad Kacchan is happy, because seeing Kacchan happy means the absolute world to him. Mina still looks concerned, even more so when Izuku lets a wretched sob escape his already inflamed throat. He can feel the flowers rising in his lungs, crawling like bugs, burning like bile. He raises a shaking hand to cover his mouth, shoulders trembling with his stifled cries. He needs to get out of there, now. Kacchan would notice — Izuku’s his best man for God’s sake — and he knows Izuku too well to be fooled by his acting. Just a glance and he’ll know.
Izuku searches desperately through the crowd for Ochako or Shouto — or even Tenya. He meets eyes with Ochako, who immediately starts pushing through the crowd to get to him. He’s told Ochako about the Hanahaki, and everything. Izuku told a few people, actually: Shouto, Tenya, All Might…
Not Kacchan, though. Never Kacchan. Or anyone who would tell Kacchan.
He might have to tell the head of HR at his agency, with the rate things are going. He’ll set up some nice jobs for his employees. They’ve done a lot for him.
Izuku stumbles forward, into Ochako’s awaiting arms. She guides him down the aisle — unnoticed by the huge crowd distracted by Ejirou and Kacchan.
Ejirou and Katsuki.
They even sound good together.
“Deku?” Ochako murmurs, her hand gently patting his arm. He takes in his surroundings, a small dressing room with a few mirrors, a couch and a table. “It’s okay,” Ochako says softly, voice steady, “It’s gonna be alright, Deku-kun.”
Deku-kun.
Deku.
He’s not sure if it’s the comforting words that finally breaks him, or the sudden wave of realisation that this has actually happened, Kacchan is married to someone else and I’m going to die and—
Izuku falls to his knees, sobs violently wracking his body as he cries out. It’s the worst pain he’s ever experienced. All-encompassing mental and physical pain that puts any injury he’s ever had to shame. His ribs burn, a hot flame that licks up into his throat — that of which is so raw that it feels as if it’s a moment away from bleeding out.
Ochako slides down with him, shock and worry present on her features, eyebrows furrowed and skin pressed into a frown that Izuku wants to wipe off her face. Izuku wants to abate some of his sadness to cease her worry, but now, in the midst of his blurry surroundings and unconscionable sadness, he finds that he really doesn’t care. He lets it out. Every wail and strangled cry thrashes his body until he’s hiccuping and trembling.
The flowers crawl up once more, feeling like hot stakes against his marred throat. He chokes, coughing and spluttering blood as petals fall from his mouth. They hit the floor in wet, bloody clumps, crumpled and torn but still the bright purple Izuku is all-too-familiar with. Ochako is crying too, now.
She takes some tissues out of her handbag, catching some of the petals in her hands. Some of the blood gets on her exposed fingers. He wants to say something like stop it, that’s gross, leave me to die, but he has a feeling that wouldn’t end well. She continues murmuring quietly, little things like it’s okay, and I’m here.
It’s poetic, really. Something as beautiful as flowers — as beautiful as his feelings for Kacchan ends up being the thing to end him.
He must look pitiful. The Number 2 Hero, reduced to a crying mess on the floor at his best friend’s wedding.
When his tears subside, he avoids eye contact with Ochako. He doesn’t want to look at her. He doesn’t want to look at anyone. All Izuku wants to do is hide away, lie in his bed and ignore the world around him. Let the flowers swallow him whole as he rots from the inside out.
“…Who should I ask to read your speech for you?” Ochako asks, breaking the silence. She isn’t crying anymore. The only evidence of her tears is the slightly smudged makeup (waterproof, since she knew this would happen).
Izuku mulls her question over. He’s glad she knows about his Hanahaki — it’s useful at times like these. After an attack like this, speaking is pretty much the worst thing he can do. Add on to that the general stage fright, anxiety, and the possibility of triggering an even worse attack by reading about how good Kacchan and Ejirou are together, and it’s a death wish.
But then he reminds himself that this is Kacchan’s wedding. He’s Kacchan’s best man, and he can’t do something as simple as a speech? No. No, he has to do it. Kacchan might not forgive him if he doesn’t.
“…I can—“ he chokes with a grimace, feeling like he’s swallowed sandpaper. He doesn’t finish his sentence before another coughing fit overtakes him, but Ochako knows him well enough to understand what he was about to say.
“Deku-kun, no. You can’t,” Ochako says, smoothing down his hair and looking at him with sad eyes.
At this point, he’s sick of people telling him what he can and can’t do.
“I have to.”
Ochako doesn’t argue with that.
When they return to the main hall, it’s practically already time for him to do his speech.
He does it. Manages to make a few people laugh when he gets over the stuttering. The smile on his face is easy, because he’s staring at Kacchan, and Kacchan is staring back. He’s grinning. Happier than Izuku has ever seen him.
“…And I wish you both all the best. To Ejirou and Kacchan!” He raises his glass in a toast, the smile on his face wobbling as the rest of the crowd echoes the sentiment.
He throws up as soon as he gets home.
Petals, blood, he’s used to. This time, it’s a whole flower. It rises up his airway slowly, painfully — he feels like he’s suffocating, dry heaving yet trying to desperately get air past the flower lodged in his throat, tears falling and muscles aching, and aching. For a moment, he thinks, this is it. This is how I’m gonna go out. But one more dry heave, and the flower emerges. He reaches into his mouth to pull the flower out, teeth grazing his knuckles. As he does, he gags, but there’s nothing really left to throw up.
The flower is a bellflower. Symbolic of everlasting love.
In sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, ‘til death do us part.
…He hates being like this.
Izuku knows he did this to himself, but he really does hate it.
“Ochako, seriously. I don’t want you to watch me die. That’s awful!”
“What’s awful is the thought of you dying alone!” She fumes, brows furrowed and eyes angry. “I can’t let you do that!”
“You can’t be serious. I can’t let you subject yourself to seeing it happen! Ochako, that kind of stuff stays with you. Watching someone you don’t know die is bad enough, but your best friend?” He’s nearly begging at this point.
“Izuku. Stop arguing. I’ll be fine. I know it’s going to happen and if I don’t stay with you I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. I’d rather be traumatised than have that kind of guilt,” she counters, eyes blazing. Her tense shoulders are more relaxed now, and her expression — rather than being furious — is sad and tired.
“Okay.”
“Thank you.”
Everything’s ready.
He stands in front of a wall of flashing cameras and microphones that push into his personal space, invasive like the flowers that plague his lungs.
“I’ve been a Pro Hero for 4 years now. I’ve received so much support, and I wouldn’t be here without it,” Izuku pauses to take in a shaky breath, steadying his voice.
“My dream has always been to save people with a smile on my face. I never thought I’d be able to become a pro-hero when I was younger, but thanks to some very important people, I’m standing here today as the Number 2 Hero. I’d like to name them all, but unfortunately if I did this conference would be hours long.” Izuku smiles when they laugh, listening intently to his words.
“I want to keep this short, so I’ll name just four. Aizawa Shouta, the person who always let me know what I needed to do to improve, how I needed to do it, and why. Toshinori Yagi, my mentor and inspiration. The one who gave me strength, gave me determination. My mother, Midoriya Inko, for always standing by me and being my biggest cheerleader. And lastly, Katsuki Bakugou, for being my rival, childhood friend,” …love of my life, “…and hero partner. I couldn’t do it without him.”
“This press conference— um, well, more like a speech now,” Izuku chuckles nervously, hands shaking as he reads over the next line on the paper in front of him. He swallows down his nerves, speaking once again: “This press conference was held so that I could announce something. I will be resigning from my place as Pro Hero Deku, effective immediately.”
The crowd breaks into chaos.
“What the fuck!?” Kacchan bursts through the door of Izuku’s apartment, stomping and angrier and more confused than Izuku had ever seen him. “You’re fucking resigning!?”
Izuku opens his mouth, then closes it, unsure of what to say. The room is painstakingly silent, save for Kacchan’s angry breaths. He doesn’t have to wait long before Kacchan speaks again.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he spits. Izuku flinches. “You—“
“There’s nothing wrong with me, Kacchan,” Izuku replies, tired. “It’s for personal reasons.”
“Personal— you’re keeping secrets from me now!?” Katsuki seethes, muffled explosions popping from his clenched fists.
“Please, Kacchan, you’ll know soon! Not from me, but—“
“Who knows?”
“What?” Izuku blanches, hands beginning to tremble.
“I said, who fucking knows?”
Izuku is good at a lot of things. Lying to Kacchan is not one of them. He absolutely hates doing it, and every time he tries, Kacchan always calls him out. He’ll know immediately, and in this case, Izuku thinks it’s probably better to bite the bullet.
“…Ochako, Shouto, Tenya, Tsu, and All Might.”
With every name he lists, Kacchan’s demeanour becomes more and more deflated. The hurt on his face is palpable, and Izuku wants to fucking sob. Hurting Kacchan, of all people, is something he would rather die than do.
“You’re supposed to…” Kacchan murmurs, abnormally quiet. “You’re my best fucking friend, Deku. We’re supposed to tell each other shit. I thought… I really had thought we’d gotten better, De— Izuku.”
“We have! I swear, we—“
“Yeah, but fucking Cheeks knows and I don’t!?”
“I can’t tell you, Kacchan!” You’ll make me get the surgery and we both know I can’t say no to you.
“No, fuck that!” he yells, trembling with rage. Kacchan glares expectantly, but Izuku keeps his mouth tightly shut. He hangs his head. Kacchan turns around, clicking open the door and looking over his shoulder at Izuku. “Come find me when you’re ready to fucking talk,” and slams the door behind him.
Izuku crumbles.
Ochako is at Katsuki’s doorway the day after Deku dies.
Katsuki opens it after she knocks, brows furrowing in immediate concern at her appearance. Dark purple eye bags, tear-stained face, red, swollen eyes, and the most blank, unemotional expression he’s ever seen on her.
“The fuck happened to you, Cheeks?”
She’s holding an envelope out to him. He grabs it, flipping it over in his hands and observing the messy ink strokes that make up the word Kacchan.
“This is Deku’s handwriting.”
And it’s when her eyes begin to water at the mere mention of his name that Katsuki realises something is seriously wrong.
“Who is it?” Ejirou calls from inside the house.
“Round face,” he responds, turning his head back only slightly. His eyes never leave Ochako’s.
“Read it.” She leaves without another word.
He closes the door, and Katsuki does. He gently tears it open, right there in the entryway.
“What’s that for?” Ejirou questions from his spot on the couch, eyes trained on Katsuki’s hands curiously.
“Dunno. It’s a letter from Deku.”
“A letter? Bit old-fashioned.”
Katsuki shrugs, unfolding the paper.
He starts to read.
And from then, it’s not long until his knees hit the floor and there are drops of water splashing onto the paper.
Deku.
Izuku. No.
“No,” he whispers, out loud this time. Vaguely, he can hear Ejirou calling his name.
“Izuku,” he sobs, “Izuku.” Ejirou winds his arms around Katsuki’s shoulders, who remains still, strangled cries spilling into the open air. His shoulders shake and he rocks himself back and forth as far as Ejirou’s arm’s allow him.
“No, no—“ he cries, wails until his throat is raw and his voice is hoarse and his head is pounding. Ejirou doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t even know what’s happened; Katsuki won’t let go of the letter.
It’s only after hours that Katsuki speaks again without crying. A mere two words, shaky and broken.
“I’m sorry.”
Hi, Kacchan.
It’s been a while! Well, I just saw you yesterday but by the time you read this letter it’ll already be a few weeks (at least, I hope it is? Ochako probably followed my instructions, so it probably is…) since I last saw you.
I’m not really sure how to tell you this. I’ve written this letter 8 times already and I still can’t phrase it right, haha. This time I’ll just say it outright, I suppose. I know you hate it when people sugarcoat things.
I got Hanahaki when you and Ejirou started dating. Sorry I didn’t tell you. You probably would’ve thrown a fit if I did. It’s been 6 years since then, I know, but it never went away. That’s why you’re reading this. I’m not around anymore (all because of some silly flowers!).
Sorry this happened! I bet you’re asking why. That sounds like a Kacchan thing to do — always finding the cause in order to create a solution. The cause is simple; I loved you too much.
I can’t actually remember a time when you weren’t in my life! Kacchan is always in my memories. I admired you from day one, and since then, you’ve always been there. Strange you never knew, huh? Not that it’s your fault you didn’t know! I guess I’ve loved you for so long that you don’t know what I look like not loving you.
People sometimes say “the world doesn’t revolve around you”, but my world does. Revolve around you, I mean. You’re like the sun I orbit around.
The epicentre, the ground zero. Amongst everything else, all the chaos, all the uncertainty, there’s you. There’s Kacchan. And without you, there’s nothing. If the sun wasn’t there, the planets float meaninglessly. If you aren’t there, if my adoration for you isn’t there, I also float meaninglessly.
Pretty embarrassing, huh?
Now that I read over this, I think I went a little overboard with the analogies. But they’re true. Kacchan is my everything. My rival, my childhood friend, my other half, and the love of my life.
I could’ve told you, but that meant risking our friendship. I just wanted Kacchan around. And I did have you around!
I got to fight beside you, be your hero partner (!!!) and watch as you achieved your dreams and married the man you loved. I’m so proud of you, so please don’t let my passing affect you!
I know you’re probably frustrated I didn’t get the surgery but a life without you isn’t a life worth living.
Make sure to treat Ejirou well. I told him to do the same the last time I saw him, don’t worry.
Thank you so much for everything. I mean it. You’ve done so much for me. You gave me a life worth living, and unfortunately, I couldn’t live without you in it.
Yours,
Izuku :)