Work Text:
{1}
"I love you."
The sky above the 3-A dorms explodes in a kaleidoscope of colour, and yet Katsuki finds himself unable to watch.
His initial plans to sleep early were pushed back when his soon-to-be-former classmates forced him into a post-graduation natter in the common area, and it was thwarted further when the opening of a door and a cordial greeting from their old homeroom teacher and current vice-principal became the prelude to surprise celebration. Soda's are soon passed around and snacks are quickly shared, Katsuki's reluctance tangible until a drink is thrust in his hand courtesy of a knobbled hand and sea-glass eyes, which is fine. Great, even. It would be better if the shoulder resting against his own didn't make his stomach swirl and if their ankles crossing then nudging then becoming intertwined didn't make his heart leap into his throat, but beggars can't be choosers, right?
(If only this deplorable part of his mind - the one that drags him into his dreams and rhymes off his favourite foods and searches for him even in the most crowded of rooms - could get with the damn program.)
Thankfully, freedom is granted with the fizzing of a bottle and the fizzle of a fuse, panic when the first boom! echoes outside knocked for six when it's followed by moonlight turning prismatic and the front door swallowing the chattering that had been plaguing him for the better part of an hour. All Might-themed socks leave first and slippered feet follow soon after, pausing once they reach the awning of their home away from home and soaking in the atmosphere as their friends cheer below a sky blooming in shades of sapphire and scarlet and citrine.
One last night of being students before they become very thing they've studied to be. One last hurrah for the saviours of UA before they replace uniforms with costumes permanently.
All of them, that is, except for one.
Katsuki lets himself soak in the shadows, arms crossed so his fingers can dig into his biceps and eyes narrowed so he can focus on the real distraction that stands just a few steps before him. Izuku's frame is held captive by this same vat of darkness, but what light is provided by the fireworks above reveals the scar that cracks like lightning past his right eye, highlights the blush smeared across the apples of his cheeks and dripping past the line of his jaw.
He didn't- Katsuki must have misheard him, surely, still giddy from the post-graduation mayhem UA is known for and still unsettled from the skinship they shared just moments ago. Between strict orders from a quack who criticises more than he cures and the pain medication he's no longer prescribed adrenaline is something that rarely pumps through Katsuki's veins nowadays, although he's well aware just how much it alters the things you see, the sounds you hear, the emotions you feel…
Katsuki's fingers press deep enough his arm begins to ache, pain throbbing in time with the boom-crackle that sounds in the distance.
If this hypothetical turns out to be theoretical, it's far more likely that it's to do with this school than the one who stands at Izuku's back; if this fantasy turns out to be reality, it's far more likely it's on behalf of the friends that they've made along the way than the one who only earned that title two years past. The thought that such words could be attributed to him beyond the veneer of his career is, quite frankly, nothing less than ludicrous -
And yet when their eyes meet Izuku may as well be a deer in the headlights, jade-green reflecting what colours cling to sky above with ease: a cluster of orange, explosions that crack across a storm-riddled sky and regress villainy to infancy; a spectral of colours, threads that send Izuku into a shadowed realm to connect him to lives that changed him, for better and worse. In the seconds that follow that mouth of his is quick to close, and in the blink of an eye Izuku looks… determined. Resolute.
His confession is not about the school, Katsuki realises when Izuku swallows. It's not about their friends, either, Katsuki understands when he watches those lips part again.
It's about him.
That is-
Not possible. Not acceptable.
"Hah?" Katsuki says, the bitterness of this lie a heavy thing when Izuku's hands become fists by his side, "I can't hear ya over -"
A whistle zips between them, followed seconds later by a boom! not dissimilar to what blasts from his own palms, playing the role of 'distraction' and 'explanation' perfectly. It's enough that it makes that mouth of Izuku's snap shut, Katsuki almost sagging in relief against the wall when Izuku starts watching their peers crow in delight as sparks cartwheel in the air.
"We should go," Izuku says quietly, "before they wonder where we are."
But Katsuki remains where he is, finds himself rooted to the spot when Izuku's gaze makes its way back to his and leaves him praying witness to a copse waxing under a chromatic moon, this quirk he no longer possesses beading just above his lashes.
When Katsuki breathes, his lungs burn.
Thankfully it's Izuku that breaks away first, his smile turning crooked as he gives Katsuki one last glance before joining the chanting coming from the footpath before them, the smoke hanging heavy in the star-studded sky above.
This is how it should be, Katsuki reminds himself, large brown eyes widening further when Izuku joins their ilk and pink cheeks turn near-fuchsia when their shoulders brush.
Nothing more, nothing less.
{2}
"I love you."
Cheek pressing where the cuff of a sweater meets the bump of his wrist, it takes 3 words for Katsuki to be grabbed by the scruff and dragged away from the succour of slumber.
What was promised as an evening of marking essays and running through lesson plans was diverted when Katsuki stomped into a barebones apartment only to be greeted by a fridge filled with light and cupboards stocked with air. Two steaming bowls of food later, he discovers that this was the plan, a freckled grin engorging a serving of katsudon with ease and leaving the monster that consumed it appeased. It's hard to be angry, though, when Izuku grins like he did before a quirk manifested in sweat-coated palms, ribs him gently when words passed through a snarl lacks the heat that would have laced them just years before.
With everything the man has been through, Katsuki will give him this, at the very least.
Anyway, he remembers marking papers and seeing just for himself what the next generation of heroes have to say. He recalls chastising Izuku for letting his students forget to include his own heroics while constantly propping up the feats earned by his former classmates. He recollects blue light catching the spectacles that keep sliding down the bridge of a freckled nose, the point of his chin digging into his forearm when teeth captured a bottom lip to gnaw at it pensively. He was-
Relaxed, so much so he must have succumbed to the exhaustion that he'd been waylaying in place of keeping this connection of theirs alight. Comfortable, to the extent he let himself forget a thing so damning he's spent the better part of two years forgetting it was said at all.
He heard those words for the first time at 18, days before entering society as the number 4 hero and the last year of his teens, and yet hearing them again at 20 brings with it a weight that presses heavy atop his spine, keeps him pinned to this rickety table he's resting upon. When they were younger Katsuki was able to convince himself it was a simple example of emotions running high, an incurable case of wishful thinking and unacceptable ideals forcing themselves misinterpret what had been said, but now -
A chair squeals, wood dragging against floorboards as a grumble apparates from on high and a warmth makes itself known down low, the cotton-fuzz weight of his head shifting when what may be his foot presses against something soft and what may be his knee knocks against something hard. A breath - warm, where it catches at the edge of his lashes and makes the lids below twitch; a touch - quick, where it ghosts gently past the curve of cheek, finds respite in blond spikes. The press of one finger then two, coasting along tramlines before settling quietly in sheafs of wheat, unmoving for a time before fading, only to start over… and over… and over…
His dreams haven't felt this real since they became the victors of war, and the price for peace was his arm and his heart and his psyche.
(All those nights Katsuki found himself gasping awake and slapping his hands against his solar plexus, shaking when he feels sweat-prickled skin and a hummingbird heart below his fingers and not the gaping maw that stole the last of his breath -
The eyes that met him when his door burst open, that believed him, reluctantly, when he said he was fine. Just another one of these pretty little lies that falls from Katsuki's mouth, but not for his sake.
Never for his sake.)
Sleep has just found him once more when the sensation stops, this forbidden part of him revolting when the touch leaves him, what was once warm under whorls now cool to the touch.
"I wish I could be brave enough to say it to your face," he hears whispered above his head. A song of devastation is soon scrawled by calloused pads between a heartbeat scar and the exhaustion that colours his bottom lid, scored into a symphony when it moves past the curve of his cheek to rest with a palm along the line of his jaw. "Sorry that the one who fell for you's a coward, Kacchan."
Katsuki can't move, can't breathe when those crooked fingers begin to pluck away at his resolve, a crescendo that syncopates with a heartbeat that thumps when a thumb runs past the corner of his mouth to press just below his lips.
How easy it would be to yield, to let himself believe that Izuku's love is something he has any right to accept. How easy it would be to ruin Izuku's life further, make it as if the pain he inflicted during their formative years had faded with an apology in the rain and his life on the line.
It would be so easy to forget. It would be so easy to believe.
But Katsuki remains silent, still, letting the chisel of Izuku's hand press against his skin like marble, chipping away at a trail that will be indelible long after he pulls away, stands with a sigh, falls away to a distance that should always be maintained. When what's prophesied comes to pass red eyes flutter open to watch a cardigan-covered back putter past the low light of the kitchen and sidle into brighter light of the bathroom, lets himself see it disappear with the click of a handle. It's only when he's alone, truly, Katsuki lets his head thump heavily against his forearm.
Who really is the coward here?
{3}
"I love you."
A heartbeat scar twitches in time with the incessant, machinated beeping Katsuki despises more than anything else in his goddamn life.
Somehow, Katsuki never considered that, despite the idiot no longer possessing what embers made up the quirk he once possessed, the heroism that sent him sprinting towards a slime creature stealing the last of Katsuki's breath wouldn't have faded along with them. It's not the only time it's ever reared its head, if the stories he's heard from classmates and students alike are to be believed, but at least Katsuki is usually there to step in before things get too rough, before Izuku can even consider putting his life on the line.
Of course today he was stolen away at the last minute to sit in another pointless meeting with the Hero Commission, and what relief filled him when the alert gave him an excuse to flee Keigo's nest was replaced rapidly with dread when upon arriving to the scene he saw Izuku, of all people, fist-fighting the personification of devilry in downtown Musutafu. He won - of course he did, it's Izuku for crying out loud - but not without this teacher's suit being shred to ribbons and a particularly painful gash left in its wake, not without the teacher in question being dragged onto a gurney and having his complaints silenced when the doors to the ambulance shut.
All of which brings Katsuki here, costume-clad and terribly mad, trembling fingers squeezing the edge of the door as his mouth twists into a snarl.
"You're an idiot," he hisses through it.
Izuku's grin, lopsided and dopey and heartachingly beautiful, is wide enough that it turns his eyes to pinpricks of emerald. Jewels that glitter despite the room being lit by odious, yellowing fluorescents, ever-bright despite having enough wires and tubes coming from under his sheets that he may as well be more machine than man.
"I'm fuckin' serious, Izuku," Katsuki continues, the bento in his hand meeting the chair meant for visitors like him so he can stomp closer, let his finger jab towards a grin that keeps growing and growing. He's lucky Musutafu General has that stupid 'No Yelling' rule in place, otherwise Katsuki would be bellowing in this building until all that remains is rubble. "What the hell were you thinkin'-?"
"Are they okay?"
Katsuki's finger, inches away from the button of Izuku's nose, curls lightly towards his palm. "Hah?"
"Those kids," Izuku says, the 'obviously' heard loud and clear even if it never passed his lips, "are they okay?"
His hand curls completely into a fist, and Katsuki lets it fall to his side. "Of course they are," he sighs.
The response he gets is a satisfied hum, Izuku's eyelids fluttering shut and replacing his sight with a splattering of stars. "I'm glad," he says, and it's spoken so softly you wouldn't think they were accentuated by the bleeping of a heart monitor, the twitching of a finger caught between grey plastic clips.
This picture, once blurred, now becomes crystal fucking clear.
Katsuki was aware that there were kids at the scene, heard that they were crying over Izuku and saw for himself how pudgy hands fought the heroes that held them back so they could see for themselves that Izuku was still standing. He thought it was just more bystanders upset that the one known as the greatest hero was up against odds far greater than he could ever imagine, but now?
What's the emotional equivalent of 'being unbelievably proud for sticking to your roots' and 'worried sick that you keep throwing yourself into danger'?
"The ending to that coulda been way worse, Izuku," Katsuki grits in the end.
A single green eye reveals itself through a squint.
"But it wasn't," Izuku responds in kind, "this is nothin' I haven't felt bef're, anyway."
The tip of a flame curls against his sternum, lets venom drip from his canines and coat his tongue. "If you weren't pumped full of these damn meds you wouldn't be saying this -"
"I'm a hero, Kacchan," Izuku interrupts. Katsuki knows the speech would be stalwart if those same meds weren't making his voice groggy, if adoration wasn't sparkling sickeningly in his eyes. "I might not have the embers anymore, but that doesn't mean I've stopped being able to save people. I can still -"
He stops, grimacing as if his teeth have pierced his cheek in an effort to keep himself silent - like opening up about himself is something he's unwilling to admit, like letting Katsuki peer into the depths of his dreams is a loathsome thing.
(Why he feels the need to hide such thoughts and not the three words Katsuki has heard fall from his mouth a handful of times is nothing less than perplexing.)
Manners befitting his bento's new resting place make Katsuki drag the chair from the foot of the bed to the rail by Izuku's arm, dropping himself into it before propping himself up by the elbows and letting his chin fall into the divots between his knuckles.
"You can't keep throwing yourself into danger, Izuku," he says.
The words are gruff but they're warm, unintentionally so, this guttural flame that adds smoke to his voice and makes it plume softly out his mouth instead of burning it to a crisp and letting it singe between his teeth. Not that Izuku would have minded either way, he thinks, hand shaking as he lifts it to rest along cream-lacquered steel.
"I know," Izuku responds, smile turning sloppy as freckled fingers curl around the rail in the centre. So close to where elbows dig by the metal that caps his knee, so far from where Katsuki wishes they could be. "But I also can't stand to the side and let people get hurt."
Because regardless of what logic dictates and what reason demands, your body is capable of moving on its own. One look at his chest below the costume is all the proof he needs.
Katsuki runs the tip of his tongue along his teeth, lets it lick away the last of the poison that clings to it before clicking it against canines and incisors.
"You're an idiot," he repeats.
(For ending up in this godforsaken room. For continuing to believe he's invincible just because he's freshly 21. For blurting that shit out the moment Katsuki opened the door, as half-dozed as he is.)
Dimples appear to steal stars for themselves, Izuku huffing a laugh as his fingers curl tighter around the rail and his curls splay once more against a pillow "Maybe," he says, words slurring gently as he scrunches his nose until his eyes squint, "but 'm your idiot."
By the time Katsuki barks out a laugh Izuku's eyes are falling closed and his smile has started to fade, and he waits for Izuku's breaths to even out before relief lets his mirth fizzle to naught. Below the wires and the tubes and the god-awful hospital gown he's been forced into Izuku still looks radiant - exhausted, sure, but completely at peace. It's just like him to get fucked up enough he lands in the hero suites and still look like he could be plastered across the billboards in Tatooin.
Swallowing, Katsuki's hand falls to the rail, lets itself find purchase around the hand that rests there. So much colder than his own, he thinks, once love lines find themselves blanketing the knuckles that lie below. So much smaller, he notices, once his fingers find themselves fitting perfectly between bone and skin and the blood that thrums beneath it all.
He'll do what it takes to keep Izuku out of danger, even if it means leading him once more into the eye of the storm.
(Even if it means continuing to ignore these words he's not brave enough to say himself.)
{4}
"I love you."
In the depths of Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight's agency, a pen falls so suddenly ink splatters across the measurements scrabbled together from schematics of years past and his ever-dwindling wardrobe.
The former was easy enough to gain, seeing as Katsuki's co-conspirator was second in command of UA and very capable of sweet talking his way into putting them into a manilla envelope and sliding it across the very desk he sits at. The latter? Well, that was a year-long mystery only solved when he caught the perpetrator red-handed in a hoodie Katsuki hadn't seen in weeks - literally, scarlet sweater paws raised high in the air as Katsuki snarled, acquiescing his rights to it in exchange for information about the quirks the tries to use on instinct, the voices he misses the longer time goes by.
Either way, if it hadn't been confirmed back then it most certainly would have been uncovered in this very moment: Izuku, aglow in a deep orange that comes from the depths of a izakaya that's a second home for the heroes who helped save the world, pulling away from their impromptu video call to reveal a black tee with a white skull he hasn't seen in…
Wait, when was the last time he saw that shirt? Before he really stuck his nose into planning this suit a couple of months ago, right?
(Katsuki was under the belief that these asinine feelings would fade the more distance there was between them.
What a fool he is, he thinks, when the tale end of a laugh is enough to light his chest aflame.)
Idiot, Katsuki thinks with a disgusting amount of fondness.
"You love everyone when you're drunk, Izuku," Katsuki says with a deceptive amount of frustration.
"'M not drunk," Izuku claims. It would be believable if there wasn't a slight slur to his words and he hadn't shifted until the upper-half of his face took up the lower-half of the feed being streamed to Katsuki's phone. "Well, I'm not drunk drunk -"
The sound of a door opening cuts the feed for a moment, Katsuki rolling his eyes once Izuku begins babbling quietly to whoever it is that's passed through, feeling his heart shutter when he recognises a windchime laugh that's as weightless as her quirk. By the time emerald reappears on his phone Katsuki's swapped ink for lead, eyes flicking towards a smile slowly fading and letting the tip of a pencil scratch the slope of Izuku's nose when it reappears.
"- see? I'm fine!" he chirps down the line once they're alone again, "why aren't you listening to me?"
Tch. "I am listening."
"No you're not," is grumbled, and Katsuki narrows his eyes at the curve of Izuku's jaw before replicating it on paper, "I told you I love you."
At the point of his chin, the lead snaps. "And I said -"
"I know what you said," Izuku responds, surly enough that it's almost petulant. It's hard to believe the man turned 22 just weeks before. "I miss you, too. You g'nna ignore that as well?"
God, he skips one gathering because of 'prior plans' and suddenly he's number 1 on the greatest hero's hit list. "You sure it's not the car you miss?"
"Pfft."
Katsuki looks at the phone, scowls when he sees Izuku's face taking up the entirety of the screen solely so he can glare at him through the lens.
"There's a lot of cars in the world, Kacchan, but there's only one you," he states with a devastating amount of conviction."I miss you. I always miss you."
In the silence that follows Katsuki lets the splintered-tip of his pencil curve against the box-lined paper below his hand, watching a withered version of himself sway in the glassy reflection of Izuku's eyes.
Usually when Katsuki drives Izuku home after an evening of drinking and socialising he's quick to babble about anything and everything that comes to mind, and yet when Katsuki brings up any such topics the next day Izuku doesn't even have an inkling of what they discussed. Some sort of amnesia that plucks away what happened in a drunken stupor once his head hits the pillow and leaves him none the wiser when he wakes the next morning, leaving Izuku to deal with a hangover from hell and references from nights past he's incapable of recalling.
Some days, Katsuki considers unlatching his tongue and setting free all these incendiary, impossible things so they'll be nothing more than a memory long forgotten.
"You gotta lay off the booze, idiot," he ends up saying before temptation can lead him astray.
For a brief moment, Katsuki swears that Izuku's face falls into some mimicry of melancholy. "Kacchan," crackles quietly through the line moments later.
At least when he wakes this will be nothing more than a dream. At least when the morning comes the guilt Katsuki carries on his shoulders should be a less of a burden than it usually is.
"Look, I gotta go," falls from his mouth before Izuku can attempt to circle back, "make sure those idiots get you home safe, okay?"
"What?" Izuku says, voice going high when Katsuki leans towards the phone and lets his thumb hover over the screen. "Kacchan, y-you can't just leave me-"
"G'night, Izuku."
"Wait-!"
Katsuki's thumb hits 'end call', the visage of a pleading Izuku disappearing so all that he's left with is the updated schematics of a suit and the stupid look of disappointment that's plastered across his face, if the reflection of the screen is anything to go by.
He's not going to let whatever illness has taken root in his heart stop Izuku from living his dreams. For what he did, what he sacrificed, he deserves nothing but the best. Katsuki knows this. Everyone knows this -
Below his thumb his phone buzzes, notifications flickering between a childhood name and a series of emojis before they're tapered into one-word sentences, sad faces and, finally, a message from the girl who's always had Izuku's best interest at heart.
The screen fades to black. Katsuki maintains his silence, running a hand through his hair and feeling the marks chiselled there before opening his emails and replying to the never-ending email thread consisting of Melissa Shield, Mei Hatsume and one Katsuki Bakugo.
This solitude will be worth it in the end.
It has to be.
{5}
"I love you."
Katsuki, eyes trained on the sunset that rests before them, stops his boots from thumping rhythmically against the steel that rests just above the signage of his agency.
7 years. That's how long it's been since Izuku sacrificed his quirk for the greater good, how long it's taken for them to create some mimicry of a power he earned with his own two hands. A costly endeavour, if he takes into account the group chat of progress updates and funding requests and the time spent ensuring that this suit will mould to him perfectly, let alone the amount of yammering he had to listen to from his doctor during his bi-annual updates. 'Your heart isn't as strong as it once was,' he claimed with that nasally, impudent voice of his, 'if you keep going they'll be reading your obituary in the news at 24 years old' -
It's a small price to pay, in the grand scheme of things.
"You don't gotta prostrate yourself 'cause of the suit, Izuku," Katsuki says once the silence stretches too thin.
By his side, a sigh punches through the air. "I'm not-"
Izuku cuts himself off. Katsuki watches a flock of starlings begin to swirl between cotton candy clouds and the bitter-orange sky they cling to and waits for Izuku to continue.
And waits.
And waits.
And wai-
"Am I stupid?"
Katsuki, startled completely away from his reverie, twists his mouth before rolling his eyes. "The hell are you yappin' about no-"
And when he turns his head he doesn't see Izuku's legs hanging over the city street, nor those clawed boots of his inches away from the wall of Katsuki's agency - instead the soles of his shoes are pressed against one another, mechanical gloves curling over rubber so his fingers can tap along the base of his boots. Knees, bent on either side of his body, keeping the edges of his cape in place so it can billow at the back, a fairly decent distraction from the frown that deepens once Katsuki finds it.
"I can't be, right?" He continues, an apparent monologue slipping through the downturn of his mouth as his face turns a peculiar shade of red, "I know you call me an idiot, and I know that it's something you only mean sometimes -"
"Oi."
" - but I can't be that ignorant. You've always been so keen to hide your emotions - at this point I think Denki's right to call you emotionally constipated -"
"Oi."
" - but I swear I know you better than anyone else," Izuku pauses, lets his fingers squeeze between the lines of the city at the bottom of his boots and the plates that replicate the 8th user's jump, "the only thing I can think of is that -"
The rambling ceases. Katsuki's hackles prickle, bit by bit. "That what?"
Instead of saying something, Izuku just… stares. With enough pity Katsuki can feel his teeth peek through a snarl, with enough disappointment Katsuki feels his fingers twitch as if to press against the hand curled just inches away from his own -
"Never mind."
With enough sadness that Katsuki can't help but wonder if Izuku's finally letting this thing go.
Rather than jump right off his building in joy and letting fireworks of his own creation fill the sky above, dread drips slowly from crown to coccyx.
"Anyway," Izuku says, changing topics at a breakneck pace. Katsuki squeezes his hands against the edge in the hopes it makes them stop shaking. "I happened to hear something interesting earlier."
Considering their whole class was gathered just hours ago for the inauguration of the 'One for All' hero? That's not surprising in the slightest. "I'm sure you did."
"According to my sources," Izuku continues, seemingly unperturbed, "the creation of this suit was helmed by a 'Young Bakugo'."
Katsuki snorts. That damn hero of theirs - couldn't he have just kept it to himself this once? "It was a group effort."
A hum makes itself known, just as steel clanks rhythmically against the edge of this roof. "That may be so," Izuku says, and Katsuki turns in time to see jade-green eyes skitter away from… something to meet his gaze head on, "but you're the one who came up with it, right?"
Hmm. "The hell makes you think that?"
"Have you forgotten already?" Metal tapping against its kin, a slight squeal ends with panels digging into the meat of Katsuki's thigh, "I know you better than anyone else."
Ugh. "Does it really matter?"
Isn't the most important thing that he's back on his feet, dreams of heroism within reach once more? Shouldn't he be focusing on celebrating his return to the streets of Musutafu rather than figuring out who made the damn thing?
Apparently not, feeling metal press against his arm and a breath warm the side of his face.
"It matters to me," Izuku says, and Katsuki can't help but swallow when thinner fingers curl over his own. "Thank you, Kacchan."
He turns, looks into a copse of green as it blooms before his very eyes - orchids and lilies when they catch the reflections of wingmirrors and windows floors below their feet, daffodils and marigolds that darken at the petals the longer this sky inches towards a deep, midnight blue.
Katsuki's already put everything he feels into the suit being worn by his side.
What else is there left to say?
{1}
"I love you."
As a trembling breath warms his jaw, Katsuki bites back a growl.
This was not how today was supposed to go.
It was just- another stupid call out, a lunch interrupted so they could put some idiot who's gotten too big for his boots in his place like they do near enough every day. A dilapidated corner of town ended up being the home turf to some tinman moron, and Katsuki only realised how dangerous this cretin was when the gauntlet around his right arm attempted invert itself through it, sharp spikes digging through flesh to tap bone and just barely miss his vitals.
But before Katsuki could exclaim in pain, a different, far more terrifying sound rang out between a crumbling building and cratered tiles -
A scream. One he hasn't heard in almost 10 years. One he swore he would never hear again.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" he spits, what toxin his words are steeped in diluted by the rain that beads along his jaw and runs once it drips to Izuku's cheek, the tears that start to spill from spring seep eyes and curl past a freckled temple, "you're saying this shit now?"
This suit he helped create was supposed to be a lifeline to make sure Izuku stayed safe. A letter, written by those that loved him and penned by the one who refused to join their ilk, because Izuku's love was something he had never earned, let alone deserved.
It was never meant to-
It was never meant to do this.
"I'm not saying it now," Izuku clarifies (stupidly, idiotically), "I've been sayin' it for-"
He's interrupted by his own cough. Shit. "Stop talking before it-"
Katsuki snaps his jaw shut. He can't say it. He won't let the universe use his words against him, not now.
"It's-" is muttered. When Izuku closes his eyes it takes a terribly long time for them to open again. "Why does it matter what I say?"
Doesn't he get it? "Because you- it means you-"
You think you'll not make it out of here alive, he fails to say aloud. You believe, wholeheartedly, that what breath remains in your lungs is worth wasting on a liar, a coward, a fraud.
The laugh that follows is near-hysterical, tightening into a squeak before it finds itself cut at the quick by another cough. Izuku goes paler still, eyes shuttering for a moment as he breathes, the air bubbling crimson where pale lips meet until a single drop beads at the corner of his mouth.
"I was wondering recently if you were ignoring me on purpose," he croaks, a feeble attempt to make the mood light despite the circumstances being dire, "why does it feel like I know the answer now?"
"Shut up," swallowing, Katsuki's throat aches as his hand moves from the plates embedded into a ribcage to rest at the curve of his cheek, "please."
Izuku's smile is quick to turn to a grimace, even when scarlet spittle is wiped away with a thumb, a streak of red spreading from mouth to cheek. Nothing like the flush from the day they graduated, nothing like the embarrassment that found itself lost in the light emitted from a setting sun.
It's Katsuki's fault. All of it. Every bit of misfortune that befalls him now is covered in the blood that begins to thicken on his gloves, that's smeared along the cheek of the man he-
Fuck.
"It's okay, Kacchan," he hears, and Katsuki wasn't aware he had looked away until Izuku's hand rises, shakily, to nudge him by the chin, "if you don't- I don't need you to say it, alright?" his finger, slowly uncurls as it runs up his jaw, smears something wet along his cheek, "it's okay."
One look into those slowly dimming eyes is enough for Katsuki to know that it's not, in fact, okay. It's not okay at all.
"And what if I do?" grits past his teeth before he can stop it, stings at the corner of his eyes until Izuku begins to blur. "What the hell happens then, huh? The hell am I supposed to do-!?"
The revelation claps like thunder - the sky above rumbling when Izuku's eyes widen, clouds relieving themselves of their burden when Izuku's smile shakes into a lopsided grin.
"Maybe that's for us to discover in our next lives," Izuku teases, like such a thing isn't seconds away from becoming true.
Katsuki's fingers squeeze desperately at his waist, pulling Izuku further away from the crater his body keeps trying to claim as his final resting place. "Fuck you," he hisses, "don't you dare-"
A finger is quick to press against Katsuki's mouth, shutting him up faster than any words could.
"I love you, Katsuki," Izuku whispers past the blood bubbling out his lips.
He won't- "Izuku."
The hand falls from his mouth to Izuku's own, lips pressing lightly where the knuckle curls.
He can't - "Izuku."
It rests there, longer than Katsuki wishes it would, and just as Katsuki lifts Izuku's body closer towards his own -
The finger falls away.
The knuckle taps against tile.
The body of Izuku Midoriya falls incredibly, impossibly still.
…
No.
Nononono-
That's not- it can't be. Izuku- he's quiet but he's fine. His curls are cold but his face is still warm, and it's hard to tell it the shaking come from him or the one he holds but he feels it still, takes it as nothing less than a sign. Katsuki's breath puffs quickly past his lips, fingers tingling as he pulls Izuku closer until their temples meet, sweat pressing then cooling between the two of them - but Izuku doesn't nuzzle them closer or push him away or burn so bright he becomes another star in the sky, he just-
Lies there, allowing himself to be held in ways Katsuki's wanted for far longer than he wants to admit.
(- nononononono -)
When the sky sobs it's guttural, Katsuki's throat going raw when his breaths turn to growls and his nose starts to sting and his lungs begin to ache. Sea-glass eyes, shuttered forevermore. A dimpled smile, permanently slacked. A courageous heart, one that went after Katsuki again, and again, and again, cleaved in two and beating no more. Izuku doesn't know. Izuku will never know.
... ...
He loves him.
He- Katsuki loves him, more than anything he's ever loved in his stupid, fucked up life of his, and he just- kept it to himself, let Izuku believe that he was just nothing more than a friend out of pure cowardice and internal spite. No more important than the Shitty hair that makes him drive too and from the izakaya's and his ma who calls him a brat and his hero who has implied time and time again that they're better by each other's side, stronger when they're on each other's heels, and now -
Katsuki's hands have only known how to destroy. Why did he think the heart he held could evade that same fate?
The ground below his knees blurs. Katsuki grits his teeth, heaves a breath through them before grief has a chance to swallow him whole, desperately rests his ear against lips (and they're cold, so so cold-).
And then, he waits.
(Please, he begs to no one, to everyone.)
And waits.
(For air, heat, anything.)
And waits.
(Please.)
A breath so light he thinks it might be the wind curls around his ear.
Katsuki jolts.
Did he-
It takes everything he has to not crush his hands against Izuku's spine and force him closer, unwilling to risk skewering him further if he really did feel -
One more breath, passing through pale lips to gently warm a tanned auricle.
For a second, Katsuki lets his head drop to an emerald-plated shoulder and breathes.
Alive.
He's alive.
His heart says to take Izuku and blast his way to the hospital nearby, but his head reminds him that bolts for brains is at the beginnings of a rampage and is likely to clank his way into the city and cause more mayhem if he even thinks the Wonder Duo considered him so much of a threat they fled the scene. Katsuki's no coward when it comes to hero work, but if he sequesters the two of them away, calls in back up, waits for them to take over so he can get Izuku the hell out of here -
As if aware of Katsuki's current turmoil, a third breath squeezes its way past Izuku's lips
Shit. Fuck. Okay, he's gotta- staunch what bleeds through the panels, press this cape against them until crimson slips through the fibres and gold starts to fade, figure out where the hell to keep him until he can call for backup. Katsuki's quick to find a blockade of rubble and the corner of a wall, comes to a stand with Izuku in his arms and lets him lie, gently, before coming to a stand.
Ashen. Brumal. Calm. So very, very calm.
Thunder claps over head. Gloved fingers reach for the communicator at his ear.
"Code red, Takoba 5-chome," falls monotone from his mouth once it crackles to life, sight lost to the hero resting by his feet, "bring as much backup as you can-"
"Dynamight!?" is quick to interrupt him. Katsuki's heart cracks in two when they sound panicked, petrified. "What happened? Where's Dek-"
The voice cuts itself off with a gasp. Katsuki's exhale quakes.
"I'm sorry, Pink cheeks."
"There you are."
Katsuki snaps his head up, hand falling away from his ear as the fucker who started it all danders through weatherworn facades. The copper coif of his hair is slicked back with motor oil, silver metals grafted to different parts of his face-neck-hands and soldered in place below a loose, denim jumpsuit.
Katsuki thought he was silver through and through, nothing but steel and solder and silver.
How strange it is that he's taken on a rose-gold tinge.
"You," he growls.
The idiot in question, unaware of the peril that awaits him, laughs. "You know, for someone with his, let's say, prestige, he went down awfully quick." hands on his hips, he ignores Katsuki ripping one gauntlet off his arm as the other falls undone by Izuku's side, blood running in rivulets down Katsuki's costume as he closes the distance with the stomp-blast of his boots, "one down, one to g-"
The words are squawked from the bastards throat by Katsuki's own hands, fingers squeezing until the eyes before him bulge with that sickening, silver sheen they've taken on.
"What have you done?" Katsuki seethes, what wetness existed on his face disappearing in a wave of steam - rain, cool as it falls from the sky; tears, warm as they run past the curve of his nose, sink between the line of his mouth.
He can feel the idiot try to speak, vibrations rumbling against his palm before petering out into a squeak as rain sizzles where it meets the curve of Katsuki's cheek, the jut of his chin.
"What," spittle curls from his maw like flecks of ash, "have you," his tongue magma-hot as he presses it against his teeth, "done-!"
Before the fucker even has a chance to squeal his way through some explanation Katsuki throws him against the floor, body cratering tiles with a hot, copper-tinged breath that gasps below his palm before Katsuki blasts the two of them 6 feet below.
The next few seconds, minutes, hours are a complete blur- seeing red until back up finally arrives with a numbing cacophony, his own agency pummelling past him and gasping when they see for themselves what turned Dynamight into a vengeful god. The assistance they offer is heavy handed and clunky, and Katsuki has to pull away and bellow at them to stop, because if that suit dislodges it leaves those wounds open and if they press against them too hard they'll burrow themselves in flesh further and he can't- he can't -
Red eyes watch Izuku's head loll against his shoulder, looking away to view twilight rays and the path they lay towards the glittering tower of Musutafu General.
'I love you, Katsuki,' echoes quietly in his mind as he pulls his hero closer to his chest before blasting away.
No more running. No more hiding.
Not anymore.
{Bonus}
All Katsuki knows is silence.
From his head and his heart, from the bedside he refuses to leave and whatever idiots attempt to impede with their apologies and their clinical know-how and blah blah blah. From reading lips he thinks some doctor's told him his own gauze-covered wounds need to heal on their own, and days later those same doctor's removed the dressing from his forearm and foolishly told him he was free to go. When he stayed put their faces twisted into some blasé form of confusion. When he narrowed his eyes their own followed suit and started to reprimand him for… something idiotic, most probably. When his fists clenched and Inko Midoriya entered the room their stupid white coats were quick to slip through the gap, thank god.
("Katsuki, honey, the two of you have been a package deal for as long as I can remember," he swears is what comes from the press of her lips despite how they tremble, the curve of her smile despite how it shakes. "I didn't have to think twice before adding your name to the list."
Her hand when it curls around his is daintier and paler than his own. Her eyes when they peer into his, see for themselves the sorrow he's failing to hide, are a lot wetter, too.)
Sometimes when he chances a glance out the windows that separate the patient and his visitor from the clamour on the other side he sees stethoscope-adorned doctors mumble silently, other times nurses skitter in to measure vitals and ask how he is, assumedly, before leaving them alone. Sheets don't rustle because they can't move; food isn't consumed because it can't be.
While he can't hear it, he can see a heartbeat flickering rhythmically on the monitor beside the bed.
That's the most important thing, isn't it?
Even when one day passes and another begins, if the light slipping through a slatted window at his back is accurate.
Even when one week shifts to two, if the slowly deepening furrow in Inko's brow is anything to go by.
Even when one morning Katsuki wakes, and something has changed.
Not that he even notices at first, eyes burning as they trace elongated blocks of sunlight setting the shuttered blinds before him alight, unable to feel anything but the cotton mouth that comes with a restless nights sleep and crick that's most certainly going to make itself known once he attempts to move. A hiss passes through his teeth when that pain indeed comes to pass, rolling his neck in an attempt to alleviate it before letting his chin meet his chest and giving a single, heavy sigh.
It's a little after 9am, if his internal alarm clock is in any way accurate. Auntie Inko will probably appear in the next few minutes if this schedule they've unintentionally created is still up and running, giving him something light to nibble on as they wait for the nurses to do their checks, for a doctor to appear on the off chance they have something good to say.
On the apparent chance Izuku's taken a turn for the worst.
Katsuki shakes his head, refuses to let that passing thought find purchase with everything else that's been running rampant through his head, wrinkles his face and expels one more sigh before looking up -
And meeting an incredibly familiar pair of green eyes.
Not the ones he's been seeing over the last few days-weeks-whatever, but the ones he's spent almost his entire life chasing. Emeralds where it's hidden in shadow and jade where it's caught the morning light, half-lidded and twitching with every move the eyes behind them make, sinking further into the velvet encapsulating them with every slow blink that follows.
"Izuku?" He whispers.
In return he receives the smallest of smiles.
"Hi Kacchan," Izuku croaks.
And when that chest of his moves, Katsuki feels lightheaded.
It's like this vacuous space fills with everything that's been absent since Izuku first fell unconscious - the sun against his neck is warm and the footsteps on the other side of the door are loud, the scent of antiseptic is dizzying and Izuku- Izuku-
The chair Katsuki was sleeping in clatters to the ground as he comes to a stand.
Holy shit.
"The hell is wrong with you?" he exclaims, paying no mind to the infamous 'No Yelling' rule as he makes for the 'nurse call' button by the bed, "why haven't you called anyo-?"
"Did you mean it?"
Katsuki stops, pulling away once his mind plays a dial up tone on loop. "What?"
"You said you felt the same way," Izuku clarifies, words brittle from lack of use, "please don't tell it was a lie. Or something I made up." Pausing, his face heats up as his mouth wobbles, "if i made it up I'm so sorry-"
A stampede of thoughts trample through Katsuki's mind all at once: relief that Izuku's well enough to quip like they're oft to do, fear that he remembers with potential clarity what happened before he almost died -
Rage when, of all the things he could be talking about after waking from a coma, that's what comes up first.
"You almost died, Izuku" Katsuki says, words bubbling below the pumice of his tongue before he spits them out, eyes swimming in guilt when they make Izuku wince, "why would you focus on tha-"
"I dreamed about you."
Katsuki's mouth clamps shut.
"I don't know how long it's been since I-" interrupting himself, Izuku lifts his hands and lets his eyes trace the wires that pierce through his skin, "but for however long I was out I spent most of that time with you." his hands fall to the blankets that cover him, gripping them as his mouth twists. "You've always kept me going, Kacchan. This time was no different."
The heart that beats in his chest is violent, banging heavily against his ribcage out of time with the increasing bleepbleepbleep! that comes from the monitor by Izuku's side.
"I didn't want to hear those words and think you were saying them just because I almost-" Izuku looks away, gnaws his lip before turning back with a fire in his eyes, "be honest with me, Kacchan. Please."
No more running. No more hiding.
Not anymore.
"I do," Katsuki confesses, ears burning as his voice cracks and his chest caves and his stomach churns. "Feel… like that. for you."
He half expects for Izuku to turn away with disgust, to make Katsuki the fool for reading too much into apparent platonic confessions - but he's proven wrong when Izuku sits up so quickly it makes the wires attached to him go taut, a few threatening to peel away from his body when his eyes go glassy and wide -
"Really!?" Izuku exclaims, ignoring the face that pales when the ECG starts bleeping at a million miles a minute, "why didn't you- I thought you didn't- why didn't you tell me-"
"Because in what world do I deserve you, Izuku?" Katsuki snaps.
The monitor cuts so quickly Katsuki panics that the idiot's flatlined, only to see it get back on track as Izuku narrows his eyes.
"Deserve?" he asks, the room's temperature dropping significantly as he speaks.
Ah, fuck. Here goes nothin'.
"With everything that's happened, everything I've done, there's a stupid amount of people you could choose and be happier with," fingers dig into his palms, the skin over his knuckles bleaching themselves white when Izuku's response is to clench his jaw, breathe heavily out his nose. "You terrify me, Izuku, in more ways than I ever realised. You should be with someone who's proud to lo- feel the same way, shoutin' it from the rooftops and shit, not-"
Looking away, Katsuki finds himself drawn to the shadows passing under blinds and the emerald tresses that glow under a summer sun.
"Not with someone who hid it for so long," he finishes weakly.
The silence that follows is nothing less than catastrophic.
Katsuki fights the urge to open the window and blast himself sky high.
Good. Great. Let him ruin the one thing he really had because of his stupid feelings and his stupid words and his stupid, stupid mouth -
"I'm not some prize that can be won," Izuku clips. With great reluctance Katsuki lets his eyes fall back down. "I feel what I feel, regardless of what's come to pass."
It's barely been a minute since he's bared his heart and here he is, fucking it up royally. What else is new? "I didn't mean-"
"And I don't know what options you're talking about, because to me there's only ever been one," a sliver of pink wets chapped lips, Izuku letting them press together before opening them to say-
"It's always been you, Katsuki."
For the first time, Katsuki lets himself hear those words for what they are. Within a matter of seconds, his face begins to crackle with tiny howitzer blasts.
What the hell is he supposed to do now, fall to his knees and praise whatever deity granted him this impossible wish? Pinch him self until he wakes up and realises this whole thing is a dream? Take that same chair he was snoozing in before, scrape it over linoleum until he can throw himself in it, look Izuku directly in the eyes and say -
"You're an idiot."
…or he could just repeat what was said the last time they found themselves in a similar position.
At least this front row seat provides a stunning view of red crawling from the collar of his gown, this rolling flame sweeping up the length of his neck to set the plains of his face on fire. Izuku's mouth opens then closes ad nauseam, his eyes skittering so they can look at everything around the room except for the man right in front of him, his fingers pinching then smoothing the blanket that rests below his hands.
All Katsuki can do is watch. Or, rather, all he wants to do is watch, the secret sap that he is.
Fuck it.
"I don't know what I'm doing," Katsuki blurts when Izuku remains mum. "I don't- I don't know what comes next."
He can feel his cheeks begin to warm when Izuku to looks his way, the tips of his ears burning when freckled fingers inch closer to the rail. "Me neither," Izuku says through a smile.
Red eyes keep watch as a tanned hand crosses the great divide and curls around the bar before them. "I'm gonna be a terrible boyfriend."
"I disagree," is followed by cool fingers gliding up and over that same bar, and it's hard to ignore Izuku's smile when they knock gently against the warm ones stationed there. "I think you'll be wonderful."
It's there, in the middle of the bedrail, that their fingers interlock. Not for the first time, and most certainly not for the last.
He's so embarrassing. What kinda high school bullshit is this-?
"Hey, Kacchan?"
Looking up, Katsuki is greeted with the sight of watering green eyes. If Izuku's been hiding his pain the entire time they've been talking, Katsuki will break the 'No Yelling' rule so quick-
"I lov-"
BANG!
"Katsuki, darling, if you want to freshen up I can keep an eye on-"
It doesn't take long for that voice to stop talking, and it certainly doesn't take long to see why.
Eyes as green as the ones by Katsuki's side stand in the doorway, a knotted box falling from a familiar pair of hands and clattering to the floor so they can cover the gasp that leaves her mouth. The room becomes incredibly still, the swoop of a bird casting its shadow from the tear-budding eyes of one to the other as Katsuki waits, patiently, for whatever cataclysmic event is about to take place.
"Izuku?" she asks, the prelude to such events coming from behind her fingers.
Izuku's throat bobs, moments before he sends a watery smile her way. "Hi, mom."
And before Katsuki has a chance to intervene, Inko Midoriya breaks that infamous rule herself with an almighty scream.
Their hands jolt apart, Katsuki coming to a stand as her hand tries, and fails, to stifle it. "Auntie Inko," he begins, soft and slow just as Izuku places his hands on the mattress to sit up, "it's oka-"
"NO!" she bellows, pausing only to give a deep inhale before her jaw sets and her eyes narrow. "Don't move, honey, I need to- NURSE-!"
And then Inko bolts, their morning bento now abandoned in the middle of the floor as her shadow zips past these closed blinds and she leaves a pair of red and green eyes in her wake.
Well, that was-
"Embarrassing," is warbled from the bed.
When Katsuki follows the sound, he's greeted with a somewhat pitiful, definitely endearing effort to put his head in his hands.
A laugh makes its way out Katsuki's mouth, taking pity and leaning over so he can swipe Izuku's hands away. "She'll be fine once they look over ya," he says, fingers patting where a scarred cheek has started to sallow, ignores the pang reminding him that this is his fault, "just stay put, okay?"
Izuku's eyes meet his, and the skin below Katsuki's fingers begin to warm. "Hmm."
For a moment Katsuki rests his hand there, thumb running past the curve of his cheek once, twice before a drag path created moons ago stings along his own scalp. Wetting his lips, his fingers are slow to move - drifting lightly past Izuku's temple and the scar by his forehead, hesitating for a moment before gently through those green curls over… and over… and over…
"Hey."
Izuku's eyes open just a sliver when a tanned hand leaves curls to trail gently past the arch of his brow, the corner of his eye. "Hmm?"
Katsuki's palm finds respite at the line of his jaw, heart revolting when Izuku's eyes flutter closed so he can nuzzle himself closer.
"Tell me again when you've healed," he says, a crooked smile cracking through his facade when Izuku peers at him this time through his lashes.
Seconds later he feels fingers press over his own, a series of wires sicking out of his peripheral when calloused pads press against the knuckles of each digit. "Promise?" Izuku whispers.
Katsuki's nod, a quiet thing at first, becomes more certain when Izuku's eyes begin to shine. "Promise."
In the days that follows Katsuki does what he can to make it known it's a promise he intends to keep: when Katsuki leaves now it's to bring lunches to the three of them so they can avoid whatever imitation of 'food' is being served here; when Katsuki regales him with their friends most recent escapades Izuku goes giddy with joy, and when visitors are allowed back in he steps away so they can fall over one another to make sure their favourite hero is okay; when Katsuki arrives later than planned after a shift he's bounding towards a window cracked open so he can wrap an arm around a thinning waist and haul this moron back to the bed for his own damn good -
Until Katsuki opens the door to his room one morning, and what greets him is a silhouette standing in front of the window.
Not adorned in the gown he's grown used to, no longer soundtracked by the scratch of a needle against skin and the quiet bleep! of the ECG and whoever's been coughing up a storm in the weeks that they've been here. Just green curls alight in the soft morning light, a familiar scarlet hoodie covering broad shoulders and faded black jeans tucked into a classic pair of red boots.
"Izuku?" falls from his mouth suddenly, "the hell are you-"
Katsuki barely gets the name out when the body before him turns, green eyes coming alight the moment they find his own, and in the blink of an eye Izuku stands right before him. The bag in his hands meets the floor when their chests collide, breath careening out of him as arms free of IV lines and wires wrap around the nape of his neck, pulling him down until they're at a similar height. From here, all Katsuki can see is Izuku's eyes, effervescent and angelic and alive -
"I love you," Izuku whispers, the stretch of his grin warm where it hovers, patiently, above a scowl.
Katsuki's hands are quick to tear down this wall he's spent most of his life building, the breath against his mouth sunshine warm as his hands find the dip of Izuku's waist and pull him close enough their hips can press together. Anticipation buzzes under his skin when the tip of Izuku's nose nuzzles against his own, a smile crawling across his face when Izuku laughs - sakura petals coasting along a spring breeze, furins swaying in a summer heat.
"I love you, too," Katsuki mutters, committing the shimmer in Izuku's eyes to memory before tilting his head and leaning in.
Nothing more, nothing less.