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“Kacchan!” Izuku shouts as he rushes out of the izakaya. His friend is already outside, moving toward his parked car just down the street. “Kacchan, wait up!”
Katsuki’s gaze lazily flits to him. “Quit shouting my name, idiot,” he snaps as Izuku gets closer.
“Right, sorry.” Izuku’s chest rises and falls heavily, but he knows it isn’t from the jog over. “Can we talk?”
Tilting his head, Katsuki takes a step toward him. “I guess. Why?”
If Izuku doesn’t get straight into it, he isn’t sure he’ll still have the nerves by the time the conversation is warm enough to broach a topic like this with his oldest friend. He takes a deep breath. “I wanna ask you about the suit.”
Katsuki’s eyes dip to the case held tightly in his hand. “What about it?”
“All Might told me it was mostly you.” His throat tightens, a too early sign of emotion overwhelming him. Clearing it to continue, he says, “I wanted to know if there was anything else you wanted to… I don’t know. Tell me?”
The expression on Katsuki’s face barely falters, evidence of aggravation over All Might saying more than he wanted said. “What does that mean? It’s just a suit. You’re welcome.”
He starts to move toward his car, so Izuku reaches out to grab his wrist. “W-wait. It’s not, though.”
Katsuki is staring at the ground now, and he refuses to look up. “It’s not what?”
“It’s not just a suit. It isn’t for me, obviously, but I can see that it isn’t for you, either. So I’m…” He tries to think of a gentler way to ask the question filling his mind. “I’m wondering what it means. To you.”
Pressing his tongue along the inside of his cheek, Katsuki shrugs. “I mean, I told you in the hospital.”
“It’s been eight years,” Izuku murmurs. He glances down at his hand still holding onto Katsuki, then lets go. “Remind me.”
“I just—” Katsuki glides a hand slowly over his hair, back and forth, while he thinks. “I told you I wanted to keep chasing after you, and how I thought we’d always compete. And none of the losers in the pros are good enough, so—” Wetting his lips, he nods once. “I just wanted someone adequate enough to compete with again.”
The corner of Izuku’s mouth lifts in an involuntary smirk. “At fifteenth, you’re talking like that?”
“Shut up, Deku,” Katsuki barks. “I’ll get back up now that I have time and real motivation.”
His smile giving way, Izuku takes a step closer.
Katsuki inches back.
“You worked hard the last eight years. I’m really proud of you, Kacchan, and I’m even more grateful.”
Katsuki’s chest swells, and he lifts a hand to cover his mouth as he turns away. “Whatever.”
Izuku chuckles. As the quiet returns, he bites his lip and pushes himself to continue. “You worked harder than anyone else, and you saved up a lot of money for a suit that was mostly your idea. You even asked for help from our class, and I know that’s something you would have left as a last resort. You really wanted to finish it for me.”
“‘Course I did,” Katsuki mutters, “but it was no problem. You’re making it sound like I wasted my life away working on it.”
“You kind of did,” Izuku whispers, and Katsuki flinches. “Kacchan, I need to know what it means to you. Personally. Why did you work so hard on it? Why did you put aside your pride,” a sharp breath hits the back of his throat, “to do this? And don’t tell me it’s about competing.” Shaking his head, he can feel his nerves building as pointless words come tumbling out from between trembling lips. “It’s not about competing. We could have found other ways to do that. I was never going to let you go in the first place, so you didn’t have to do this, you didn’t have to spend eight years,” he inhales, “falling behind in the rankings just to give me back something I’d already given up.”
Katsuki was quiet for his whole ramble, but his gaze whips up now. “You don’t give up. You didn’t give it up.”
The corners of Izuku’s eyes sting as tears make his vision swim for a moment. “I did,” he says, nodding slowly. “I didn’t want to, you’re right about that. But I did what had to be done. I let it go.”
“But you weren’t happy.”
Izuku blinks away the last trace of tears as his brow furrows. “What?”
“You weren’t happy,” Katsuki repeats, his cheeks warming. He turns away again, as if the pressure of Izuku’s searching gaze is too much for him to bear. “I figured after your entire life spent putting up with me and my bullshit, you deserved to be happy. And I deserved to be the one held responsible for it.”
“You think you’re responsible for my happiness?”
Katsuki tosses one shoulder.
“And it’s out of a sense of duty? Of guilt?” Izuku doesn’t know what’s worse: it being nothing more than penance for Katsuki, or it being nothing at all.
“I guess,” Katsuki nods.
“It’s not for any other reason,” Izuku tests. “It doesn’t mean anything more than that.”
The look Katsuki gives him is more confused than anything else. “What other reason? What else would it mean?”
“Kacchan,” Izuku scoffs, amusement rising as his patience wears thin, “you’ve done more for me than most people ever get from their partner.”
Katsuki’s head lulls to one side. “Huh? Their hero partner?”
“N-no,” Izuku says. “I mean their romantic partner.”
“Oh.” Katsuki’s upper lip lifts in disinterest. “Okay. What does that have to do with me?”
Izuku’s mouth opens and he takes a breath as if to speak, but nothing he can think of quite sums up the disbelief. “Are you serious?”
Katsuki scratches the scar across his right cheek. “Yeah,” he states plainly, like Izuku is the stupid one.
Exhaling a long, calming breath, Izuku steeples his hands at his lips. “Okay. Kacchan. Work with me here.” When Katsuki only stares, he takes it as compliance. “Have you ever dated anyone?”
Squinting, Katsuki leans forward. “What? What does that have to do with anything?”
“I said to work with me,” Izuku snaps.
“Fine,” Katsuki mutters, straightening as he sits back into his hip. “No, Izuku, I’ve never dated anyone. Does it look like I have time? Does it look like anyone would date me?”
Izuku purses his lips as his gaze trails upward. “Okay… That’s a fair point. Then,” he pauses, trying to find a different way of explaining this. “Have you ever had feelings for someone?”
Mouth hanging open, Katsuki shakes his head. “What does that mean?”
“Romantic feelings, Kacchan,” Izuku sighs. “Have you ever had romantic feelings? For literally anyone?”
Katsuki’s face screws up in disgust. “Why are we back on the romantic thing?”
“Back? We’re not ‘back’ on anything,” Izuku laughs dejectedly. “I’ve continued this train of thought.”
“Oh.” Katsuki rubs the corner of his eye. “I didn’t realize the dating thing had anything to do with it.”
“You didn’t realize ‘dating’ had to do with ‘romance?’ How are you—” One hand sweeps Izuku’s hair back too aggressively in utter shock. “How are you this stupid?”
Katsuki lifts one eyebrow uncomfortably high. “I beg your finest fucking pardon?”
Throwing his head back, Izuku lets out a two and a half decade old groan. “I’m trying to ask if you—!”
But he stops himself. He knows if he asks directly, Katsuki will just deny it, and that’ll be that. Twenty-five years spent watching and chasing after his friend will all have been for nought.
In all honesty, Izuku only just realized himself that his feelings for Katsuki went beyond friendship. He’d always just assumed the nature of their relationship was fundamentally different than anyone else had with their own friends. It turns out it is, but only because at some point, it blossomed into something he thinks he’d rather let die.
Or, he did think that. But that was before today—before finding out that Katsuki did all of this for him. It has to be more than projection, it has to mean Katsuki feels the same.
Right?
“What are you trying to ask?” Katsuki grumbles. Like a child being held back from playing outside, he kicks his toe at the ground and glances back at his car.
Izuku could drop it. He could let it go. He probably should.
Again, he lets his head fall back, but this time, he really looks at the sky. His eyes trace the stars, forming imaginary lines that construct the constellations visible even through the stifling city glow. For a second, he can pretend this moment isn’t so terrifying.
He inhales. “Just—” Lowering his chin, he looks back at Katsuki.
Startling scarlet eyes observe him carefully, and the twitching brow above them compliments the twist at the corner of Katsuki’s mouth. His jaw is clenched, and the angular lines serve as a reminder of how long they’ve known each other. They’re both young men now. And Izuku thinks Katsuki only grows more and more handsome by the day.
The sky is beautiful. Anyone would agree.
But Katsuki is even more alluring, in any given time, any given place. He could be red in the face and cussing Izuku out and he’d still be breathtaking.
“You’re staring at me,” Katsuki points out.
Sucking in quickly, Izuku holds his breath for a moment. Then, he forces it out. “I know.”
Katsuki grins and turns aside. “Can you just get to the point?” The words are demanding, but the tone is as smooth as honey.
“Kacchan,” Izuku hums, “let’s go for a drive.”
Glancing back at his car again, Katsuki shrugs. “I mean, okay. But to where? And are you gonna get to the point once we’re there?” Already, he’s moving toward it.
Izuku sighs deeply. “Let’s go up to the lookout in the forest. And yeah, I’ll get to the point there.”
“Alright.” The two men approach the Guardsred Porsche 911, and Katsuki opens the passenger door for Izuku. “Get in,” he says gruffly. “And touch as little as possible.”
Izuku can’t help the smile that spreads across his lips. “Yeah, okay.”
As the car leaves the city and enters a mountain road, Izuku sits perfectly still with his hero suit tucked between his feet. Katsuki’s thick, scarred fingers drum against the stick-shift in time with the grunge rock playing on the radio. It’s not Izuku’s taste in music, but he’s listened to it enough to recognize the bands thanks to Katsuki. Early Nirvana creaks through the speakers, the melody harsh, the instruments sharp and unpleasant.
Izuku’s gaze slowly makes its way over to Katsuki, watching as his lips mouth the senseless lyrics that Izuku thinks still would mean nothing to him if he understood the translation. “You’ve got odd taste, y’know,” he notes.
Katsuki’s mouth snaps shut, and he frowns. “Shut up, loser.”
Relaxing back into the seat, Izuku looks out the window with a grin. “Just stating facts.”
Katsuki snorts. “Is it just for music? Or does my odd taste extend to other things too?”
Izuku focuses on Katsuki’s reflection in the passenger window, watching as his expression shifts from teasing to contemplative in a second. “Not sure,” he says with faux-nonchalance. Selfishly, he hopes it extends enough to include him.
Eventually, the car pulls into a spot just off the main road about halfway up the mountain. Katsuki instructs him to stay seated until he can come around and open the door for him.
“Such a gentleman,” Izuku mocks as he takes Katsuki’s hand and climbs out of the low-ride.
“If you damage anything, I’ll make you pay for it,” Katsuki snarks. “So yeah, sure. Call me a gentleman for watching your wallet.”
Izuku holds onto Katsuki’s hand for a moment longer than necessary.
Katsuki doesn’t seem to notice.
The men head down the short path to the lookout point. It’s quiet out, and the sounds of cicadas and nocturnal creatures fill Izuku with a certain sense of calm.
“So,” Katsuki says, disrupting it.
Sighing, Izuku nods. “So.” They approach the wooden railing enclosing the small cliff and come to a stop, overlooking the city below. “Stay facing forward,” he instructs. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to get this out if he feels Katsuki’s eyes on him.
Katsuki casts him one sideways glance before relenting. He plants his feet firmly against the packed dirt and sticks both hands in his pockets. “Alright. What is it?”
Izuku bites his lower lip. His near thudding heart rate crescendos in his chest. “Do you remember when we were little and we used to play by ourselves?” Most of the time, they were with Katsuki’s friends. But there were moments when it was just the two of them.
“Yeah,” Katsuki says. “What about it?”
A flush creeps up Izuku’s cheeks. “You always told me to stop following you. I just thought you were cool, but you hated that I was there. And yet, when it was just the two of us, it was like you were someone else. You would tell me to rely on you, to look up to you. I liked that side of you, so I did.”
Gulping, Katsuki turns away slightly.
“Now, you say you got me this suit so we can keep competing. So you can keep chasing after me.” Izuku’s mouth twitches into a disbelieving smile. “Doesn’t that seem backwards? What…” He rolls his shoulders back and shifts. “What changed?”
Katsuki stands frozen, and Izuku thinks he isn’t going to respond. But then, he tugs on his earlobe and sighs. “Nothing.”
Smile fading, Izuku looks at his side profile critically. There isn’t even the slightest hint of untruth. “How’s that possible?”
“Nothing changed,” Katsuki exhales, shoving his hands a little deeper into his pockets, “because I lied.”
Izuku’s heart skips a beat, perched precariously on the edge of something that’s feeling a lot like hope. “When? Back then, or now?”
Katsuki chuckles and shakes his head. Tugging out one hand, he brings it to the back of his neck and pinches it gently. “What do you think?”
“I don’t know,” Izuku whispers. “That’s why I’m asking.”
For a split second, Katsuki’s eyes find him. Surprised, he flinches, and Katsuki immediately looks away. “Obviously, I was lying back then.”
“Is it obvious?” Izuku mutters under his breath.
“Can I face you?”
Izuku looks at Katsuki’s tense form still facing the city. “Let me say one more thing.”
“Fine,” Katsuki huffs.
None of this matters in the grand scheme of their relationship. They’re more than friends, because of course they are. There is no label that accurately describes the dynamic that’s formed over the last twenty-five years. In one way or another, Izuku knows they love each other. He doesn’t need Katsuki to say it. He doesn’t need Katsuki to mean it the same way he does.
So he puts it all aside.
“I just wanted to say thank you,” he eventually tells him. “It means a lot to me. So much more than I can put into words.” Searching for more in a gesture as big as this is like searching for just one more drop in the ocean. There’s no point. It doesn’t change a thing.
“Can I face you now?”
Izuku lets out a puff of air. “Yeah. Sure.”
Turning, Katsuki looks at him with those sharp eyes that see too much and, yet, never enough. “Izuku,” he breathes. There’s a slight quiver in his voice, and Izuku can see it clearly in the tremble of his lips and the twitch of his brow. “What more do you want?”
The words hurt, but Izuku can’t blame him. He pulls back. “N-nothing, Kacchan. I’m sorry I started the conversation like that, it isn’t what I meant. This is already more than enough.”
“No,” Katsuki pushes, “I… don’t…” His gaze sweeps the floor as one hand presses into his forehead. “I don’t know if I understand. I just want to understand.” He looks up.
Izuku swallows a lump of emotion too heavy for him to process. “It’s okay that you don’t understand. It’s not important.”
“It is!” Katsuki yells.
The sudden noise startles Izuku, and he jolts.
Holding out his hands, Katsuki shakes his head. “Sorry. I just—” He chews on his lower lip for a moment, then tries again. “Like I said, I want to make you happy. I just want to know how to make you happy, Izuku.” His chin lowers. “You don’t exactly sound like you are right now.”
Groaning, Izuku drops his head into his hands, doubling over. “Kacchan, that’s not what I meant,” he chokes out. I’m ruining this. He did so much for me, and I’m ruining all of it.
“I want to make you happy,” Katsuki echoes himself quietly.
The wording of it suddenly jumps out at Izuku.
“I’m sorry I’m an asshole and not very approachable, but can you please tell me what I can do?”
“Do you actually want to?” Izuku hears himself ask. “Like,” he scrambles, hearing the way it sounds, “it’s not that I don’t believe you. I’m just trying to clarify. Do you want to make me happy, or do you feel compelled to?”
Taken aback, Katsuki’s expression relaxes. “I don’t know, what does that…” Uncomfortable, the man looks away.
“Neither answer is wrong, Kacchan. You’re fine either way.” He scoffs at himself. “Y-you’re more than fine. You’re…” A million thoughts come to mind, but no word seems sufficient. Nothing can describe what Izuku already has standing in front of him. So he simply sighs and murmurs, “You’re enough.”
Katsuki draws in an unsteady breath, something Izuku doesn’t think he’s ever seen from him. “I don’t want to just be enough.”
Izuku smiles. “I know, and you’re not just enough.” Mouth dry, he tries to appease him. “It seemed like it might go to your head so I didn’t say it, but the word I was really thinking of is ‘perfect.’ I don’t need anything else.”
And it’s true. He doesn’t. Having Katsuki in a romantic sense isn’t something he’d ever demand. In fact, it isn’t even something he’d ask for.
Coming to an understanding, Katsuki’s lips part, his eyes soften. “Then… I think I figured it out,” he murmurs. “I want to make you happy. So, Izuku,” his head tilts, “what do you want?”
The air abandons Izuku’s lungs in an instant, like it never belonged there in the first place. Tears spring to his eyes. He doesn’t trust himself to speak, so he stays silent.
But Katsuki must misunderstand, because he quickly jumps to explain himself. “You can tell me, whatever it is. I promise I won’t make fun of you if it’s something weird. But…” Reaching up to massage his right shoulder, he looks away. “I know I can be an idiot when it comes to—” He hesitates, glancing up at the sky with a self-critical frown. “When it comes to a lot of things, I guess.”
Izuku’s chest caves in with a breathy laugh.
Realizing he’s not upset, Katsuki turns to face him again, and a smile creeps across his lips. “Earlier, you asked me about…” His cheeks turn red as he covers his mouth with his hand. “About that stupid—” His eyes dart up, then back down. “About the romantic stuff.”
Hope wells in Izuku’s heart despite the pessimistic mantra ringing like alarm bells in his head.
“Were you— Do you…” Katsuki’s voice fades out completely. His body moves in jerking motions, like he isn’t quite sure what to do with his hands.
Izuku walks to him and takes his right arm, holding it tenderly as his fingers begin to knead the worn muscles. It’s something he started doing not long after Katsuki got most of the use of it back, and he does it completely absent of thought now.
“Do you think I have feelings for you?”
His hands freeze. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Katsuki tilting his head, trying to look up into his face. Turning away, he tucks his face into his left shoulder. “No, obviously not,” he chokes out.
Katsuki steps closer, his right hand finding Izuku’s side. Quoting him, he asks, “Is it obvious?”
The feeling of Katsuki’s palm against him sends a shiver down his spine. The hand moves to his waist and grips the fabric of his suit as he tries to take a step back. “What are you—”
“I’m an idiot when it comes to a lot of things. So I’m sorry that I’m slow on the uptake.” Katsuki tugs on Izuku’s tie, pulling them closer together. “But I think I might… be…” His eyes search Izuku’s, darting back and forth.
Blood rushes in Izuku’s ears, and his pulse throbs painfully in his neck. His breathing comes in stuttered waves that lack any real depth. Eyes wide, blinking rapidly, he tries to brace himself for disappointment.
“No,” Katsuki decides, shaking his head, and Izuku lets the disillusionment wash over him without resistance. But a gentle and crippling look of affection fills Katsuki’s face as he opens his mouth to speak again. His lips widen into a curious smile as he takes a breath. “I think I already did.”
Izuku can’t stand the suspense any longer. “Already did what?” he says through chattering teeth.
Katsuki hums softly, like he’s in complete understanding of the situation. It feels mocking, although there isn’t even the faintest trace of cruelty.
Incredulous, Izuku scoffs and tosses his arm down that he’d honestly forgotten he was still cradling. “Kacchan,” he groans with a nervous laugh, “what did you do already?”
Katsuki’s grin is enough to knock the wind out of Izuku all over again. “Well, shit,” he snorts, “this is gonna be really embarrassing if you haven’t yet, but it doesn’t really matter. I’ll obviously change your mind.”
“Haven’t what? You’re being really obnoxious right now, y’know,” Izuku grumbles under his breath. “Just tell me what you did.”
Nodding, Katsuki reaches out for him again, and Izuku doesn’t bother resisting this time. “I’m sorry,” he says without an ounce of remorse, “but I think I fell in love with you.”
Izuku’s heart clenches too tightly in his chest. His eyes widen so much it hurts.
“So, y’know what?” Katsuki continues. “I’m promising you right now, I’m gonna make you happy. I don’t need to waste time just wanting.”
A broken laugh escapes Izuku’s open mouth. “Are you sure you know what you’re talking about?”
As if words wouldn’t be enough to answer, Katsuki reaches up and takes Izuku’s face between his hands, pulling him close. Mere inches away, he rasps, “Yeah, I’m sure.”
Their breath intermingling, Izuku’s eyes dip down to Katsuki’s parted lips. His stomach lurches, and he forces himself to look back up. Clenching his jaw, he gulps and reaches out, latching onto Katsuki’s thin shirt like a lifeline as he tugs him closer, closing the distance completely.
Sparks actually fly, and Katsuki pulls his hands away quick enough to not hurt. “Sorry,” he inhales between clumsy kisses, voice shaking.
Izuku smiles against him, eyes closed as he chuckles low. “It’s okay,” he excuses. His hands glide up Katsuki’s chest and find a home buried in the man’s short hair, forcing their bodies closer.
“I’m sorry,” Katsuki says again, gasping against him, “I love you.” Heart to heart, his left arm snakes around Izuku’s waist, his right arm resting on Izuku’s shoulder.
Izuku can’t tell if the phrases were supposed to be connected or not, but it shoots a pang through his chest regardless. “It’s okay,” he repeats for reassurance. Pressing his lips into him one more time, he pulls back. They’re both breathless and too warm in the summer heat, and the moonlight is enough for him to see the blown out pupils in Katsuki’s starved eyes; but he looks stunning. “Kacchan,” he whispers softly, “I love you too.”
Katsuki’s face lights up, then darkens. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?” he asks, his eyebrows knitting together.
Izuku leans in to press a kiss into Katsuki’s scar. “Because,” he says slowly, “it wouldn’t have been the same if I’d tried to tell you how you feel.”
Katsuki’s gaze falters, and he looks away. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs yet again.
Frustrated, Izuku yanks him into another bruising kiss, followed by a loving brush of his lips. “I can’t believe I’m the one saying this, but stop apologizing. I don’t want you to feel guilty.” Then, unsure if that’s convincing enough, he shakes his head. “No, there’s actually nothing for you to feel guilty about anymore. Got it?”
“Are you sure?” Katsuki asks, fear flickering in his eyes.
“I’m sure,” Izuku nods.
The most beautiful and delicate smile Izuku has ever seen slips onto Katsuki’s swollen mouth. “Okay.” Izuku starts to lean in again, but Katsuki steps back. “Hey. Take me out, nerd.” He pauses, then amends. “On a date.”
Izuku’s cheeks ache from the smile that won’t go away. “Can I really?”
Doing a quick lap behind him, Katsuki mutters something incoherent. “It’s not a permission thing,” he clarifies when he faces him again. “I’m telling you to.”
“Oh, okay,” Izuku laughs, his chest suddenly feeling lighter than it has in—
Well. Probably ever.
Before UA and the war and being left responsible for saving the world, Izuku had Katsuki’s attitude to worry about. Everything was walking on eggshells and catering to his wants. He thinks he might have been satisfied at one point or another, but it doesn’t tend to be the good memories—the happy memories—that stay.
But he doesn’t need those memories when Katsuki is promising to give him nothing but happiness from now on.
“Then, will you go out with me, Kacchan?”
Katsuki rolls his eyes and turns to overlook the city in a show of annoyance, but the pleased look on his face doesn’t change. “If I’m not asking, then you don’t have to either.”
Standing against the backdrop of glowing lights, Katsuki appears shrouded in darkness. When he turns, Izuku can’t make out the expression he wears.
But when he steps closer and extends a hand, Izuku takes it readily, not a single doubt remaining in his mind. Just as he thought, Katsuki does love him. Unlike his assumptions, though, it’s the same burning passion that fuels the fire in his own heart.