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He stood at the gates of UA. The place he swore he wouldn’t miss. Even after what happened in his dorm that night, he still came back. He still leaned against the wall waiting for someone he knew wouldn’t come. Years after the war and he hasn’t spoken to him since. That fight after the war runs through his head like clockwork. The screaming, the crying, the accusations, all of it.
Lying staring at the ceiling rethinking all he could’ve done to change the outcome. A way to be able to save Tenko. A way he could’ve gotten there in time. How he could’ve avoided Toga’s grasp. How he could’ve moved faster. All of these thoughts spiraled through his head, only being broken by a sharp knock. He didn’t even have to ask who it was. The aura was enough. He hadn’t spoken to him since they woke up. Even then, he only said a few words. Too much guilt weighed down on him to hold a proper conversation so he just stayed silent.
Not waiting for a response, Katsuki barged in. He took a moment to take in the state of the room. Posters torn down, clothes sprawled across the floor, multiple broken figures littering what’s visible of the carpet. The usual smell of clean laundry was long faded and replaced with the smell of salty tears.
Izuku didn’t move. He didn’t get up to greet him like he usually would. He laid there, silent. The silence between the two was suffocating. Izuku would usually initiate the conversation, or at the very least Katsuki would walk in on him mid-ramble, but not this time. It was awkward, unnatural.
“Hey.” Bakugo starts, unused to starting the conversation.
No response.
“Izuku, you gotta talk to me. You haven’t spoken to me for weeks.”
Still no response.
He’s clearly getting agitated now. “Everyone gets your speeches and explanations. What do I get?”
“You don’t need anything from me, Kacchan.” He says flatly. He sounds nothing like the kid that Bakugo had grown so fond of. It made his heart hurt and not from the still healing stitches.
“Bullshit. You think I went to hell and back just for you to rot in your bed, acting like I don’t exist?” He said harshly, but lacking his usual bite.
“You fought because you’re a hero. You didn’t do it for me.” His voice was still emotionless and he hadn't met Katsuki’s eyes yet.
Bakugo laughs bitterly. He sits down on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under the added weight. “Don’t do that. Don’t rewrite what happened just so it’s easier for you to leave.”
“I’m not leaving. I’m just.. done.” His hand curls into fists, slightly shaking. “No One For All. No power. No place in hero society. I was a weapon, that’s all. Now I’m back to the same old quirkless Deku that you loved to hate.”
“I didn’t hate you. I never hated you. You know that. We’ve talked about this. It was my jealousy. My burden. Not yours. And you weren’t a weapon. You were-” He cut himself off before he could say something he hadn’t come to terms with quite yet. “You were the reason I didn’t crash and burn.”
Izuku laughs darkly, disbelieving. “Yeah, and now I’m just added weight.” He finally meets Bakugo’s eyes. “You don’t have to carry me anymore.”
There was a pause. Bakugo wasn’t sure if he heard that right. Izuku wouldn’t just give up. He knew Izuku, and what he was saying wasn't him. He wouldn’t just outright give up all hope. He’d put up a fight, put Katsuki in his place and laugh it off later, together.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” He stands up abruptly. “So that’s it?!”
“You don’t get it.”
“Then make me get it! Because I’ve been standing here, watching you tear yourself apart, and you won’t even let me in.”
Izuku suddenly jumped up out of his bed. He came as face to face as he could with their height difference, glaring daggers into him. “Because I couldn’t save you!”
Bakugo freezes.
“I couldn’t save anyone! Not properly. Not fully. Not you! I watched your lifeless fucking body lay limp on the ground. I was supposed to stop that, but I couldn’t!” His voice cracks and his breath hitches, but he continues. “Now you have to constantly monitor your heart rate so you don’t fucking die, again! So forgive me for not wanting to face the person I love who I let die out of fear you’d hate me for it!”
Bakugo hesitates. “You. You think I hate you?” He’s never sounded so hurt in his life.
Izuku doesn’t answer. He can’t. His breathing is ragged, his chest heaving. His body is acting like he just fought another war.
“You think I woke up, after flatlining, after the surgery, after months of recovery, and my first thought was how much I hate you?” He takes a step closer, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. “Izuku, I lived because of you.”
Izuku opens his mouth to retaliate, but Bakugo continues. “I saw the footage. I saw how you fought. You were ready to kill for me. The only reason you didn’t kill everyone there was because Mirio was there to calm you down.”
After the initial shock of knowing that Bakugo had watched how he reacted he bit back.“It wasn’t enough!”
“It was everything!” He grabbed onto Izuku’s shoulders forcing him to look him in the eyes. His voice cracked, not out of anger, but desperation. “Yes I died, but I died for you, and I would do it a thousand times over. Even when I woke up from the hundredth open heart surgery, you were in my room, gripping my hand like your life depended on it while several angry nurses tried to drag you back to your room. You think that made me hate you? You think I felt anything but-” He chokes on the words. “I wanted to live because you were the one who kept fighting for me. But you? You gave up the second I died.”
“But, that’s- that’s not true.”
“Then why do you keep running?” He demands, unshed tears clouding his vision. “Why do you look at me like I’m something you broke and never fixed?”
Izuku’s lips parted, but no sound came out.
“You wish that you could make me whole, but you already do. I just can’t manage to get that into your thick skull. You’re the reason I’m still breathing.”
Izuku shakes his head, tears streaming down his face. “I don’t deserve to be.”
Bakugo’s heart twisted at the sight of Izuku breaking himself apart. His frustration was bubbling up again. “Izuku, you don’t get to do this. You don’t get to just give up like this.”
Izuku’s voice was shaky. “I’m not worth it anymore. How could you think I am? I failed you. I failed everyone.”
“God damnit, Izuku! Stop!” Bakugo yelled, his fist slamming against the wall. “You think you're the only one who lost? You think you’re the only one who had to pick up the pieces after all the shit that’s happened?”
Izuku flinched, taking a step back. He looked like he couldn’t take anymore of this. But Bakugo was far past caring about how much it hurt seeing him like this. He wanted answers, and he was going to get them. If Izuku wouldn’t let him help, then what the hell was he supposed to do? He wasn’t going to let him slowly kill himself over guilt that he shouldn’t have.
“Look at me!” Bakugo snapped, his voice full of emotion that he refused to acknowledge. “You were never just some weapon, not to me, not to anyone. You are my reason to keep going and I won’t let you throw it away. Not like this.”
Izuku shook his head again. “I’m not the person you need anymore.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it!” Bakugo’s chest heaved and his heart monitor went off, but he ignored it. “You think I want anyone else? You think I could ever look at someone the way I look at you? You’re my reason for living, Izuku. You.”
Izuku didn’t respond, his body wouldn’t allow it.
Bakugo spun on his heel, heading for the door. “I didn’t go through all that shit for you to sit here and waste away like you don’t mean a damn thing. You’re not a broken thing that deserves to be tossed aside. If you’re going to keep acting like this, I can’t help you. Come talk to me when you stop painting me as the villain.”
Then he left. No final goodbyes. Nothing.
They haven’t spoken since. Izuku trembled at the memory. He was amazed that he could still recall it as well as he did three years later. He stares at the setting sun, covering everything he can see to a deep orange.
He slid down the wall, fishing a small box out of his pocket. He stares at the design on the box for a moment before opening it, talking out a cigarette. Grabbing his lighter out of his pocket, he was cut off by a voice he thought he’d never hear again.
“You’re still doing that, huh?” The voice was deeper but unmistakable.
Izuku didn’t jump. He didn’t even move. Bakugo joined him, matching his sitting position.
“And I’m still fucked up, so why are you talking to me?”
Bakugo didn’t answer immediately. He just let the silence come over them like a blanket.
“Because I saw you here.” He finally spoke. “I figured if I didn’t say something now, I never would.”
Izuku lit the cigarette, his hand trembling slightly. He took a drag and exhaled slowly, not taking his eyes off the horizon. “You shouldn’t have.”
“Yeah, well.” Bakugo muttered, elbows on his knees. “You’re no the only one who stayed fucked up.”
Silence again. It wasn’t uncomfortable, just heavy.
“You really want to do this now?” Izuku asked, barely above a whisper.
Bakugo shrugged. “I didn’t come here with a plan.”
Izuku scoffed bitterly. “Some things never change.”
“Some things do.” He looked to Izuku, who was still refusing to meet his gaze. “I do.”
Izuku didn’t respond right away, but he opened his mouth like he was about to say something, but opted for taking another drag instead.
Bakugo didn’t push like he used to. He let it hang in the air for a while before speaking again. “Y’know, I never got over you.”
Izuku paused. The cigarette was held loosely between his fingers as he searched for an answer. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Bakugo leaned back against the wall, like if he didn’t look at Izuku, the words would be easier to say. “It means.” He started. “I didn’t just lose a friend or a teammate. I lost you, and it hurt a hell of a lot more than I thought it would.”
Izuku clenched his jaw. “You didn’t lose me. I’m right here.”
“No you’re not.” Bakugo’s voice cracked slightly. “You’ve been gone since that night.”
Izuku laughed dryly. “Don’t go getting poetic on me, Katsuki. It’s been three years.”
“God, it hurts when you call me that.” Bakugo laughed weakly. “And I know. I felt every damn day of it.”
The cigarette burned dangerously close to his fingers, and Izuku let it drop, stomping it out with more force than necessary. “So what? You thought showing up would fix something?”
“No.” Bakugo looked back at Izuku.“I came because I couldn’t stand not knowing if you still hated me.”
That got Izuku to look at him, really look at him. He took in his face. Slightly older, but still undoubtedly him. “I never hated you. I hated myself.”
“That’s what makes it worse.”
Izuku dropped his head. He opens and closes his hands, unsure what to do with them now that he has nothing to hold. He drops them to his sides, one instantly being found by another. He didn’t fight it. He didn’t know if he even wanted to.
“I wasn’t strong enough to carry it.” Izuku muttered. “Everything I did. Everything I lost. I thought that maybe if I stopped trying to be a hero, I’d stop letting people down.”
“You didn’t let me down.” Bakugo interjected firmly. “You saved me. In every fucking way someone can be saved.”
Izuku fidgeted with his interlocked hands. “It didn’t feel like saving.”
Bakugo gripped Izuku’s hand tighter. “Maybe not to you, but it meant the world to me.”
There was another pause.
Izuku spoke again, his voice cracking. “I thought that if I stayed away, you could finally heal.”
“Funny. I thought if I found you, I could finally start.” He paused. “You remember what I always told you?”
“What? Look to windward and you’ll be there?” Izuku supplied, unsure where this was going.
“It still applies. I’ll be your rock as long as you’ll be mine.”
Izuku laughed lightly and leaned against Bakugo. “Always so poetic.” He said, the smile evident in his voice.
After another moment of silence, which just comes naturally to them, Izuku asked. “And? Is this it? Your big breakthrough?”
Bakugo squeezed his hand. “It’s a step.”
Izuku didn’t pull back. He didn’t resort to silence or sarcasm like he usually would. He let himself lean into the moment just a little.
“I’m tired, Kacchan.”
“I know.” Bakugo murmured. “Me too.”
The sun had almost disappeared by now. Silence returned, but this time it felt less like a weight and more like trust.
“Do you think we can go back?” Izuku asked so softly that Bakugo had to strain to hear it.
Bakugo shook his head. “No. But maybe we can go forward. Together this time.”
Izuku didn’t reply immediately and pushed himself further into Bakugo’s side.
“Ok.” He said. “Just don’t leave again.” Izuku said tiredly. He was obviously falling asleep and Bakugo was overjoyed that he trusted him enough to let his guard down.
Bakugo turned just enough to plant a kiss on the top of Izuku’s head. “Not this time.”
They didn’t speak again. They didn’t have to. Anything left unsaid would be a problem for later. For now they can just relax into each other and try to make up for lost time.