Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

That particular morning was especially cold.

Katsuki turned off his alarm with a sigh and quickly sat up in bed. He rubbed his eyes to clear the haze of sleep still clouding his vision and moved to the edge of the bed. His feet touched the cold wooden floor, which finally woke him up completely. Blinking, he headed to the bathroom, turning on his bedroom light in the process. The morning’s cold air made his skin bristle, but he paid little attention to it. He brushed his teeth and fixed his hair a little before putting on a pair of sweatpants, a hoodie, and sneakers. He grabbed his keys, phone, and headphones, then left his room and the house without making much noise.

Outside, although the rain had stopped during the night, the streets were still wet. The cold air rushed between the trees, stirring the pale leaves that fell and swirled in the corners and along the streets. Katsuki glanced both ways before putting on his headphones and starting a steady jog under the glow of the streetlights. The full moon still hung in the sky, illuminating the neighborhood. It was exactly five in the morning, yet the night still reigned as if it were two.

Today was his first day at his new school. The blond boy was, in reality, more nervous than he wanted to admit. His parents had tried to ease his nerves with a Sunday night of playing Dungeons & Dragons and drinking hot chocolate, followed by All Might movies, but nothing had worked. Of course, he had pretended it did, going to bed with a smile, thanking his parents for their effort, but it had taken him over two hours to fall asleep. He couldn’t help being who he was, and that was, quite simply, an anxious and uneasy person.

He fully understood why his parents had decided to move from Musutafu to Tokyo, but that didn’t mean he was happy about it. Saying otherwise would have been a blatant lie.

Musutafu was where his friends were, where the rest of his family was, where his school, his judo league, and his future were. Musutafu was his life. But he wasn’t about to tell his parents that and ruin their decision.

On the other hand, he was already an adult. He was responsible—maybe not independent yet—but his plan was to get a job, get into a prestigious university, graduate with honors, and become a successful citizen with a great life, just like his parents. That was how everything was supposed to go.

He would finish high school in Tokyo, and then he’d figure things out.

After running ten blocks straight, he turned a corner and began his way back home.

Bakugou Katsuki was a boy who had never had to struggle for anything in his life. He had grown up in a well-off family—with a loving and understanding father, a somewhat passive-aggressive and loud mother, and a slightly eccentric, scatterbrained sister. His family had its flaws, but Katsuki wouldn’t trade them for anything. His parents owned a leading fashion design company in the country, and while they didn’t live in excessive luxury, neither he nor Himiko had ever lacked anything. Katsuki was deeply grateful for his parents’ hard work. He and Himiko did their part by giving their best at school. While Katsuki leaned toward the introverted side, his sister was a social butterfly. The older brother was quiet and studious, while the younger sister—though she also had excellent grades (sometimes)—often found herself caught up in trouble that was not considered ladylike. Katsuki and his father always said she got that from their mother.

The blond reached the front door and carefully stepped inside, making sure not to make too much noise. He checked his watch: 5:30 AM. His father would already be awake by now.

He walked to the kitchen, where a dim light was on, and spotted his father preparing coffee and setting up breakfast for everyone, as he did every morning. His father turned and gave him a warm smile. Katsuki stopped for a moment and nodded in greeting.

“Good morning, son.”

“Morning, Dad,” he said, his breath still cold from outside. “What’s for breakfast?”

“Mushroom and cheese omelet,” his father said with a playful wink. “You’ll love it.”

“I’m sure I will. I’ll be right back.”

“Alright, see you in a bit.”

With quick movements, he disappeared down the hall, climbed the wide staircase to the first floor, and strode into his room. Once inside, he let out a sigh and stripped down before stepping into the shower. When he finished, the clock read exactly six o’clock. Katsuki was a man of precise timing.

After completing his morning routine, he put on his new uniform, methodically checked his backpack once more (even though he had already prepared it the night before), smoothed down his spiky hair as much as possible, put on his glasses, and headed toward the living room.

Himiko was already sitting there in her uniform, scrolling through her phone, her backpack beside her. She looked up and smiled sweetly when Katsuki leaned down to place a soft kiss on her head.

“Big brother!”

“Morning, Himiko.”

“Aren’t you nervous?” The blond sat beside her, his usual serious expression in place. He pursed his lips slightly and shrugged.

“A little, I guess.”

“I’m not. I’m excited.” She leaned in closer, barely containing the excitement and sparkle in her eyes. “I’m going to miss Camie and Inasa and the others, but this is a new adventure, and I’m thrilled!”

Katsuki leaned back slightly. “It’s good to see you feeling so positive about it, Himiko.”

“But what about you, brother?” She tilted her head like a curious puppy, and the boy sighed.

“I’m a little nervous, yeah. You know I’ve never been good with crowds, and new environments make me anxious.” He scratched the back of his neck thoughtfully. “But I guess I’ll manage.”

“I’ll help you, big brother. I don’t know if we’ll be in places close to each other, but you know you can always call me, and I’ll—”

“What are you two whispering about?” Their mother appeared, coming down the stairs. She passed behind the couch, grabbing both of them by the head and knocking them together, making them groan loudly in protest. “Come on now, breakfast is ready.”

They got up from the couch, rubbing the sore spots on their heads, and sat at the central table, where their mother was already sipping her coffee. Their father smiled at them and took a seat beside her. Katsuki and Himiko had orange juice instead of coffee.

They ate while chatting about light topics—work, their new school, the house repairs, and unfinished matters back in Musutafu. When the clock struck 6:30, they got up and cleared the table.

The night before, Katsuki had reassured his parents that he would be fine driving himself and Himiko to school. Tokyo was a big and unfamiliar city, but driving in it wouldn’t be a problem for him. Besides, the school wasn’t too far—maybe a couple of kilometers at most. He could perfectly manage to get both himself and Himiko there and back safely.

The ride to school was pleasant, filled with Himiko’s excited chatter and cheerful expressions, while Katsuki could only respond with nods and brief monosyllables to keep her company and not leave her talking to herself. When he parked, the lot was half full—probably due to the early hour. He had arrived 25 minutes before classes started, which might have made him look like a control freak, but the truth was that he absolutely hated being late to anything. He much preferred arriving ahead of time rather than rushing in at the last minute.

He turned to look at Himiko, who was scanning the parking lot and the towering blue and yellow school buildings beyond. His sister jumped out of the car and ran over to him.

“Katsuki! We have to hurry!” She then proceeded to drag him toward the massive glass doors. Elegantly carved letters in granite loomed above the entrance, spelling out “U.A.” Below that, in smaller letters, it read “A. Bldg” Himiko pushed the glass door open with such enthusiasm that she nearly smacked a guy on the other side.

“Himiko, for God’s sake,” Katsuki muttered under his breath, pulling his arm free and smoothing out his uniform as he stepped inside, trying to ignore the embarrassment of having a girl hold the door open for him. His sister had already moved ahead, walking through the hallways lined with blue lockers, curiously peeking down different corridors. Katsuki simply followed in silence.

Around them, several students were walking through the halls, their gazes making him uneasy. Some shot them curious glances, others didn’t seem to notice them at all, and a few sent them looks that practically screamed get-out-of-my-way. He checked his watch—15 minutes until class started. He shifted his backpack off one shoulder and reached into the outer pocket for his schedule, which also had Himiko’s on the back. He studied it for a moment.

Building A.
Class 3-A.
Room 35, 4th floor.
Start time: 7:00 AM.

He strode over to his sister, gently grabbing her arm to pull her out of her daydream. She turned to him with a puzzled look, and Katsuki held her gaze in silence for a couple of seconds, gripping the soft fabric of her blazer with one hand and his schedule in the other.

That’s when he noticed someone standing behind her—someone who had been watching the scene unfold in silence, seemingly intrigued. Only then did it occur to Katsuki that Himiko had probably been talking to this person.

He let go of her arm and cleared his throat before holding out her schedule.

“Sorry to interrupt, Himiko, but you haven’t even checked your class schedule…” He handed her the piece of paper, and she made a surprised face before flashing him an adoring smile. She took the paper and gave him a quick hug.

“Thanks, big bro!”

Then, without acknowledging him at all, she turned back to the other person.

“As I was saying, here’s my schedule,” she said, handing the paper to the guy and smiling sweetly. Behind her, Katsuki scratched the back of his neck, uncomfortable.

The other boy—also blonde—glanced over the schedule and immediately smiled.

“Oh, hey, this is pretty close by.”

“Great! I’d really appreciate it if you could also help us find my brother’s classroom,” Himiko said, grabbing Katsuki’s arm and pulling him closer. He wanted to refuse, to say he could find his own way, but the other guy just grinned enthusiastically and pointed at him with understanding.

“Dude, you’re in my class! That’s, like, super cool, you know? I’m Kaminari. You’re gonna love 3-A. We’re all crazy there.” The guy laughed loudly, then suddenly seemed to realize what he had just said. His smile disappeared, and he frowned in concern. “Okay, that sounded bad. We’re not actually crazy. I mean, we’re all just really friendly and stuff, you know? What’s your name?”

Katsuki blinked. Unlike his sister, he preferred people to call him by his last name.

“Bakugou.”

“Bakugou! Awesome, man. We can drop off your little sis first, then head to class.”

Himiko nodded excitedly and latched onto Kaminari’s arm as he led them down the hall, which was slowly becoming more crowded.

“My brother isn’t much of a talker,” she said.

Katsuki rolled his eyes. Kaminari glanced down at her, then shot a quick look at Katsuki.

“I think he just hasn’t found the right people yet, Himiko-chan,” the guy said with a grin.

Katsuki, trying his best not to growl at him, failed to keep his face from twisting into an unimpressed scowl—especially after hearing him call his sister so casually.

“But like I said, everyone in 3-A is pretty close.”

“I hope so, Denki-chan. Please take good care of him. He’s my baby.”

“Enough, Himi—”

Katsuki had a rather dynamic duality when it came to social interactions. He wasn’t two-faced, but it was fair to say that he was one person with his family and close friends and another with people outside his inner circle. If he had to describe himself in one word… well, he wasn’t sure. Maybe dynamic would be a good choice.

Most of the time, he was calm and composed, but he could have his explosive moments. There was a side of him he felt like he didn’t fully explore or understand, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. But those moments were rare. He had an artistic streak that he indulged occasionally when playing drums in his parents’ garage. He was more of an old soul, preferring afternoons spent reading or playing video games in his room—maybe practicing judo at the gym—whereas Himiko enjoyed going to parties and traveling.

“The cafeteria is this way,” Kaminari pointed toward an open area that led to a spacious dining hall with several wooden tables and a glass-door terrace that was currently empty. “It’s open all day, but breakfast is served from 10 AM to noon. The food isn’t bad, but I’d recommend avoiding the stew,” he said, grimacing like he had PTSD. “And keep an eye on the menu—it gets posted on the bulletin board every Friday.”

“Write that down, brother,” Himiko nodded at Katsuki with mock seriousness.

He returned the nod just as solemnly. Kaminari did the same, raising his index finger as if trying to insert himself into their exchange for comedic effect.

“Write that down, Bakugou… No? Not funny? Okay.”

Katsuki just gave him a weird look.

They soon stopped in front of a classroom with a closed door, and Kaminari smiled at Himiko.

“We’re here, Himiko-chan. Delivered, just like the mail—get it?”

Himiko giggled sweetly, but Katsuki knew that laugh. It was her polite pity laugh—the one she saved for bad jokes and weird uncles.

“Thank you so much for your help, Denki-chan.”

“No problem, Himiko-chan. Hope you have an awesome first day.”

Then, in front of Katsuki’s horrified eyes, Kaminari took Himiko’s hand, brought it to his lips, and kissed the back of it, winking in the process.

Katsuki audibly gasped, scandalized. Did this idiot just disrespect him in broad daylight?!

Meanwhile, Himiko had the audacity to blush, shyly tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Unable to stomach this disgusting display any longer, Katsuki shoved himself between them, pushing Kaminari back with a glare that could set someone on fire.

“Alright, that’s enough, Kamuzo. We’re leaving.”

“It’s Kaminar—”

“We’re leaving.” Katsuki cut him off, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him away.

As they left, he leaned close to Himiko and muttered, “And you—behave yourself. See you at lunch.”

“Make lots of friends, brother!” she called out cheerfully as he forcibly hauled Kaminari down the hall.

“Hey, Bakugou… I kinda hate to tell you this, but it’s not in that direction.”

“So where is it?”

“It’s actually to the left.” Denki made him stop and pulled away from his grip with a playful smile. “Sorry about your sister, it was just a joke.”

“I don’t appreciate jokes that involve my sister.” He replied curtly. Denki scratched the back of his neck and gestured with his head for him to follow in the opposite direction from where they had been walking for the last 30 seconds.

“I understand. I’m sorry. Come on, the elevator’s this way.”

Katsuki followed him in silence.

“And… where are you guys from?” Denki asked once they were in the elevator, trying to make friendly conversation while bouncing on his heels and glancing at him sideways.

“Musutafu.” The other muttered quietly.

“Huh? What did you say?”

“Musutafu.”

“Oh, Musutafu… where’s that again?” They got out of the elevator, and Denki just walked next to him down the hallway.

“I didn’t tell you.”

“Oh. Well, where?”

The other sighed. “It’s a small town a few hours from here.” Denki nodded, fiddling with a coin between his fingers.

“I see. You’re going to love Tokyo.” He nudged him. “It’s like Disneyland for degenerates.” Katsuki didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so he just adjusted his tie. “Anyway, here we are. Classroom 3-A.” Denki stopped, opened the door with a sharp knock, and immediately the noise from inside reached their ears. “PEOPLE.”

Katsuki stayed behind him at the door, intrigued by what Denki would do next.

“People,” Denki repeated. “I bring news.” Then Katsuki knew he was about to be put on display. “We have a new friend.”

“We’ve told you a thousand times to stop bringing the subway homeless, Denki,” someone said as the noise quieted down a bit, and some background screams were heard before the blonde stepped aside, giving Katsuki a clear view to enter the classroom.

Katsuki’s scrutinizing eyes scanned everywhere, yet nowhere at the same time. He quickly surveyed the room, moving from one person to another, second by second, trying to process what his eyes were seeing. People chatting, people sitting on the floor, people eating, people combing their hair, people putting on makeup, people… threatening each other.

“This is Bakugou, and he’ll be our classmate this school year.”

Silence fell in the room. And a small guy with purple hair, who seemed about to get beaten up, dropped to the floor.

Well, that was one way to make a first impression.

“Welcome, Bakugou-san,” a girl with black hair in a ponytail said kindly, smiling, followed by a few other voices that turned into cheers. Katsuki closed the door behind him and nodded in thanks. A pink-haired girl was hurrying toward him from the other side of the room. She smiled brightly and adjusted her jacket as though heading to a business meeting. She offered him her hand with impeccable manners, which the blonde appreciated inwardly, but that didn’t make it any less suspicious.

“Welcome, Bakugou, I’m Mina Ashido, the class president. I’m incredibly happy you’re with us,” she emphasized how happy she was, especially during the handshake, which almost broke at least two of his knuckles. “I’ll be the one to welcome you today. I hope Denki’s already given you a good first impression of class 3-A.” Denki moved closer and nudged him, expecting to hear his opinion, but all he did was raise his hands, indicating he wasn’t taking responsibility.

“Oh, come on, that bad?”

“Out of the way, Denki,” Mina waved him off, and the poor guy stepped back, defeated. “As I was saying, Bakugou, Professor Aizawa should be here soon, but we’ll have all day to continue your welcome.”

“No problem, Mina-san.”

“Please, just Mina is fine.” At that moment, the sliding door of the classroom opened, revealing a tall, tired-looking man. He wore half a suit (literally half a suit, just the pants and dress shirt), and his jet-black hair was tied up in a messy bun. He had deep bags under his eyes and looked like he’d rather be doing anything else than stuck in a room with 20 emotionally troubled teenagers.

“Everyone sit down or I’m going to puke my coffee.”

Once again, the blonde was perplexed by the peculiarities surrounding him, but he still went to sit down. He found a seat by the window and sat down, but the teacher gave him a curious glance. Moments later, he pointed at him with his coffee in hand. “You. You’re the new kid.”

Katsuki felt a vein pulse in his forehead.

“I guess so.”

But the guy didn’t say anything else. The blonde internally thanked him for not making him go through one of those awkward situations where he had to introduce himself in front of the whole class. They weren’t in kindergarten anymore, and honestly, the morning interactions had already exhausted him. He had a long day ahead.

As everyone took their seats, the door to the classroom opened once more, and Katsuki looked up from his phone. A green-haired boy entered, accompanied by a brown-haired girl who was hanging off his arm. He stared for a minute before the boy kissed the girl on the cheek affectionately, and she laughed, walking off to her seat. Professor Aizawa gave them a look that Katsuki found interesting. The green-haired guy then walked straight toward him, and Katsuki couldn’t help but panic for a moment. Okay, the guy was attractive, sacrifice him. He ran a nervous hand through his hair and looked anywhere to avoid his gaze, and couldn’t help feeling like an idiot when the guy just came up and sat right in front of him.

“Alright,” Aizawa started once everyone was quiet. “I don’t know what you expect from this last year of high school, but things are about to get serious.” The man took a sip of his coffee while casually sitting down at his desk. “And I’m not too excited about it, but Principal Nezu thought it was a great idea to adopt the American boarding school marketing system, so this year, they’ll sell your parents the brilliant idea of having you out of the house for an entire year for the low price of what a used car costs. I know a few of you heard this rumor last year. Well, the construction’s finally finished, and the dorms are ready. By the end of this week, the payments and informational sessions will be opened.” A chorus of cheers and expressions of joy filled the room. “They’ll open two buildings for each year, as some years have more than one group. The idea is that each student will have their own room, even if not everyone takes the offer, and you’ll be able to go home during breaks. Or not. It’s optional. The rest will be communicated to your parents during the meetings. Anyway. This means extra hours for me, and although my salary isn’t bad, I’m not sure my mental health is worth it. I still think one day you’ll make me end up in prison. Questions?” He paused for a moment, then grabbed a marker and a book from his portfolio and started writing on the board. “Just kidding. I’m not answering questions. Open your calculus books.”

The morning passed quickly. Katsuki discovered he was ahead in the classes (at least the calculus ones) due to extracurricular classes he had taken in Musutafu, so most of the topics covered that morning, he had already studied before. He stayed silent, taking notes here and there, until the bell rang, signaling it was time for lunch.

“Bakugou!” Mina called when he was packing up his things. “Come on, we’ll take you to the cafeteria.”

“Thanks, Mina, actually, Denki already—”

“There’s yakisoba today! And it’s delicious, right, Kirishima?” She grabbed his arms excitedly, and a red-haired guy approached from behind, smiling and waving at him. Katsuki tensed under her grip, and she seemed to notice because she immediately let go, but her smile didn’t falter. She then turned and grabbed the green-haired guy’s arm, who had been organizing his things. “Mido, come with us. You haven’t met Bakugou, have you?”

Mido turned with a smile just as the same brown-haired girl from earlier approached and jumped onto him.

“Ochako!” The pink-haired girl let go of the guy and grabbed her arm. “Come have lunch with us, so we can give Bakugou a welcome.”

Ochako seemed confused for about 10 full seconds before she looked at Katsuki and realized who they were talking about. She snapped her fingers and nodded in understanding. “Sure, Bakugou.” Katsuki felt incredibly uncomfortable. Denki appeared out of nowhere, accompanied by a guy with heterochromia and two different colored hair.

“Hey, ready to go?”

“Great, the more, the better.” Mina gave a little jump of approval.

“I’m fine with it,” said the two-toned hair guy.

“Perfect. Let’s go.”

The green-haired boy, "Mido," threw his backpack over his shoulder and subtly freed himself from the brunette's grip before flashing a dazzling, friendly smile at Katsuki. Everyone began walking toward the door, and the blonde could only follow them, attempting to return the smile as best he could. However, the best he could manage was a wobbly grimace, hoping it didn't look too terrifying.

The brunette stepped into his line of sight and looked at him with curiosity.

"Bakugou-kun, right?"

He nodded, slightly leaning toward her to signal that he had her attention, shifting his gaze from the greenette to her. He adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

"I'm Uraraka. And this is Midoriya." The boy seemed a bit flustered that the girl introduced him herself, but chose to stay quiet and simply waved at him. Katsuki couldn't help but look back at him. The girl was cute, with short light brown hair and rosy cheeks, but there was something magnetic about the green-haired boy that made him keep glancing back at him like a magnet.

Uraraka and Mina chatted with him until they reached the dining hall, where there was already a long line and several occupied tables, explaining more things about the school and how it worked. He was quite intrigued by the whole dormitory situation, and it was something he planned to discuss later with his parents and Himiko, but he would worry about that later. Right now, he was hungry and scanning the room for his sister. Uraraka chuckled softly and patted him on the shoulder. "If you want, you can go find your sister, and we'll take your tray for you." Katsuki blushed a little.

"I just want to know how her day is going," he excused, giving one last look at Midoriya, who was chatting behind Kirishima with Denki and another guy with purple hair who had just joined the group.

"Oh, isn't he cute?" Mina put a hand over her heart with affection and rested her head on Uraraka's shoulder, who sighed and nodded. Kirishima gently tugged at the pink-haired girl’s ear with a mock annoyed expression before laughing.

"I'm going to get jealous over here."

"I'm joking, sweetheart. No one could compete with you." The redhead kissed her on the cheek.

Katsuki moved away with a bit of cringe weighing on his shoulders. It wasn’t that he wasn’t a relationship person; he simply didn’t know how to be, since he had never been in one. It was a little quite embarrassing, but as introverted as he had always been, he had always struggled to express his feelings openly, and things got three times more complicated if they involved someone else. When he was attracted to someone, he usually did absolutely nothing about it. He felt and stayed silent. Stayed silent and felt. Eventually, he could shake it off, and the matter would fade into oblivion, so he didn’t dwell on it too much; the result? He was a 18-year-old virgin, single and speeding toward public humiliation. But the conclusion to all of this was that, no, he was not comfortable witnessing public displays of affection from others.

He walked through the cafeteria for a couple of minutes, his gaze wandering through the growing crowd until, quickly, in the hallway entrance, he spotted the platinum hair of his sister, moving with that characteristic walk of hers, as if she were floating and at the same time tripping over her own feet. She was arm-in-arm with a black-haired boy who was telling her something, laughing. Katsuki blinked, slightly perplexed, for a moment, but not surprised.

"Himiko!" He called out, walking toward them until he was in front of them and could direct his poker face at his sister and then the young man who was happily escorting her. "Hello?"

She released the other specimen and wrapped her arms around him as if they hadn’t seen each other in years. "Oh, Katsuki, third year suits you."

?????

"Himiko—" the blonde stopped halfway to look back at the boy who was grinning at him with a bright, toothpaste-commercial smile. "How's your day going?" His sister patted him on the shoulder casually and let out a laugh that might have sounded a bit forced, but to the boy, it sounded completely sincere.

"Everything’s excellent, brother. Shindo has adopted me for the day and..." the blonde let go of Shindo’s arm to rummage through her bag for a few seconds, then shoved a couple of disheveled papers into her brother's chest. "Have you heard about the dorm proposal?" She asked, her eyes bright and hopeful. Katsuki returned her gaze with suspicious eyes.

"What about it?"

"We need to talk to mom and dad."

"For what?"

"Are you not interested?" She grabbed his arm and pulled him a little away from the crowd, excusing herself with Shindo with a raised finger and a wink. "You’re kidding, right? Freedom for us? Three years to live the crazy life?"

"Three?"

"Well, three for me. You’ll be going to college in a year, and everything will be great and all that—"

"I don’t think it’s a good idea—"

"Enough, I won’t listen to you." She started walking away from him, raising a hand. "We’ll do it."

"Himiko—"

She turned around and then took his hands in hers, looking at him with all the seriousness of a younger sister. "You need to start living a little, Katsuki." And she walked away.

The boy tugged at his tie with the feeling of being watched and turned back to head to the food line. He could feel heat on his face again. He stopped abruptly when he didn’t recognize any of his classmates in the line, probably having already grabbed their food and sat down. He looked with growing anxiety toward the tables, searching for Kirishima's striking red hair or Shoto’s bicolor hair, but soon felt overwhelmed by the wave of people pushing and walking around him. It wasn’t until several seconds later that a gentle grip on his shoulder caught his attention.

Midoriya was looking up at him from below, his 165 cm frame, with a tray in hand, a smile dancing on his lips that was both teasing and friendly. "We're over there," he pointed with his thumb toward a table at the back of the cafeteria and turned around, expecting Katsuki to follow him.

These were the first words the boy had spoken to him, and Katsuki had already picked up on the teasing tone that also lingered in his voice. At first glance, the boy didn’t seem like the kind of person who liked to play tricks on others, especially when they had just met, but apparently, his face was deceiving. From the time Katsuki had watched him among the others, his face had been mostly serious, except for a couple of discreet smiles here and there. He seemed pretty close to Uraraka and the purple-haired guy, but Katsuki hadn’t been able to conclude much else.

Midoriya set his tray down next to Mina and nudged her to make room at the table. Mina turned to look at him and immediately alerted Uraraka, who was sitting beside her, to move and told the others to do the same until they made enough space for him at the table.

"Hey, Bakugou," Denki called from the far end of the table, passing his tray hand to hand until it reached him. Katsuki nodded in thanks and got his chopsticks ready to start eating, hoping with all his might that neither Mina nor anyone else tried to include him in their conversations. Katsuki liked to eat quietly, peacefully, and in silence, and although he knew it was hard to do so in the middle of a cafeteria at a table full of people, he hoped at least to finish his meal without interruptions. He was a bit particular with his schedule and habits, and in Musutafu, he usually shared breakfast time with his friends, who knew that if they wanted to talk about something, they had to wait for him to finish eating if they expected a response from him, or simply talked without needing his involvement. These were established agreements, and he knew he would have to bring them up here too, at least if he planned to stay in this group of friends, which… he didn’t find very pleasant at the moment.

The yakisoba wasn’t bad, that’s what Katsuki thought after the first bite. A bit salty, maybe, but it could be fixed with some hot sauce. He added a bit, but after several bites, he concluded that it needed a little more. And maybe a bit more than that.

"...and then he said to me, 'Hey, we could go out on Saturday,' and I told him, are you kidding? Saturday is Momo’s party, plus—wow, won’t your stomach hurt afterward, handsome?" Katsuki didn’t have much of an ego, or maybe he did, sometimes, but it wasn’t the ‘handsome’ part that made him turn. It was more the silence that followed the conversation, which he hadn’t been listening to too carefully, and feeling multiple gazes on him. While the left side of the table was engaged in conversation, the right side seemed to have noticed his maybe excessive consumption of hot sauce. Still holding the bottle, he slowly placed it on the table and lifted his gaze to meet several pairs of eyes fixed on him. More closely, an olive green gaze was watching him with the same amusement that had been there earlier. Katsuki took a minute to realize that the one who had spoken was Midoriya.

"...Huh?"

Midoriya laughed in his face.

"I said, won't your stomach hurt afterward?"

Katsuki had the grace to speak with his mouth full. "Why?"

"That's a lot of sauce, don’t you think?" Midoriya shifted his gaze between the bottle on the table, Katsuki’s tray, and his eyes. The other boy swallowed with difficulty, not even chewing, and felt himself blush for the third time that day as his own gaze shifted from Midoriya to the rest of his classmates who were watching him with amusement—Mina, Uraraka, the purple-haired guy, and a couple of others he hadn’t met yet.

"I—I like hot sauce," he defended himself. "Besides, this one doesn’t even burn."

Mina jumped to his rescue. "I get it, Bakugou, I love spicy food too, but here it looks like they make food for chickens."

"There are people who want to keep the integrity of their tongues intact," said the purple-haired guy. Katsuki was starting to remember other features of him in his head, so he wouldn’t keep calling him "the purple-haired guy," as it started to feel disrespectful and repetitive.

"I second Shinsou," Midoriya added, quickly turning toward Mina.

"For what purpose?" Mina raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow and pointed her chopsticks at Midoriya. Katsuki could see how the boy's ears slowly turned bright red.

"My purposes are none of your business, Mina," he replied immediately, with a tone that was both seductive, venomous, and playful. Someone who wasn’t friends with Midoriya might feel offended or flustered, but Mina just threw her head back in a laugh that spread to everyone else. As for Katsuki, a shiver ran down his spine from the back of his neck to the tips of his toes.

"You're a slut, Mido!"

The boy simply shrugged and continued with the conversation as if nothing had happened, completely forgetting the topic of Katsuki and the hot sauce.

The rest of the day passed between classes and short breaks where he only chatted a little with Kirishima and Mina. After calculus and lunch, they had two hours of history, one of literature, and two more of English. Honestly, Katsuki felt exhausted. The school itself hadn't been overwhelming, but the social interaction had drained him until he felt like a dirty, dry rag.

According to Himiko, she had done wonderfully. Apparently, she had made dozens of friends and felt right at home in her new environment. Katsuki was happy for her. Really. He was happy that at least one of the children in the family had the social skills needed to make their way in life. And just as Himiko had promised, at dinner time, she didn't hold back from telling their parents everything she wanted.

For the third time since they sat down at the table, Katsuki rubbed his face tiredly.

"Dorms, mom!"

"I heard you the first time, Himiko," Mitsuki took a bite of her steak and chewed, letting the girl chatter as she swallowed. "But a bunch of teenagers together, alone, without supervision? I don't know, it doesn't sit well with me."

"Obviously, we won't be unsupervised, mom," Himiko pointed her piece of meat at her, and Mitsuki looked at her with a warning in her eyes, the kind that said don’t-be-dismissive. "There will always be a teacher watching us. They'll talk about it at the parent-teacher meeting, that's why you have to go." Her sister grabbed their father's hand and their mother's hand, looking at both of them with hope, but all she received was a doubtful look from her mother and a look of understanding mixed with the same doubt from her father. When Himiko wanted something that she knew her mother might refuse, she always turned to her trump card: her father, but this time Masaru seemed to share Mitsuki's concern.

"What do you think of this, Katsuki?" Her mother suddenly asked, still eating calmly while holding her glass of wine absentmindedly. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, almost measuring his reaction, and Katsuki knew that was exactly what she was doing. She wanted to know what he had to say, but whether or not she’d take it into consideration for her future decisions was a complete toss-up. The boy took a moment to bring a piece of broccoli to his lips and slowly savor it before answering the question.

"I don’t think it’s a good idea either," he said, always as convinced of his opinions as he had always been, despite the heavy sigh from his sister, who kicked him under the table, earning a frown from him. "But what Himiko says is true, there will be supervision all the time."

This time, his father spoke up. "I think we should go to the meeting, dear," he said to his wife, placing a hand on her shoulder. "We don’t lose anything by giving it a chance." Himiko nodded enthusiastically.

"Mom, please!"

Her mother drank from her glass again and finished with a tired sigh while massaging her temples like someone who had had a long workday, and it probably was. Katsuki continued eating in silence, wanting, in some way, to be helpful to his sister but not wanting to be yet another source of stress for his parents.

"Alright, Himiko, we’ll go to the meeting," she agreed, and her sister practically vibrated in her seat. "And when is this, anyway?"

"Wednesday."

"Alright. Masaru, we’ll have to cancel some appointments, make sure to tell Manami." With that final command, Mitsuki picked up her empty plate and got up from the table.

Katsuki and Himiko chatted a little more with their father in the dining room about their first day at school and work while their mother watched the news on the living room TV, where they later joined her and hung out together as a family before heading to their rooms.

Katsuki closed his bedroom door, turned on the lights, and closed the window and curtains he had left open in the morning. The atmosphere was cold now that the air had sneaked in through the window and wrapped around the walls and the wooden floor, which creaked under the steps of his boots. He glanced at the clock on his nightstand and began changing out of his uniform. 6:03 PM.

He changed into a pair of sweatpants and a loose training shirt and quickly packed his gym bag, though he didn’t carry much. He went down to the kitchen, where he made his protein shake, and without much else, grabbed his car keys and drove the five-minute route from his house to the gym.

Back in Musutafu, he only had gym days on Tuesdays and Thursdays; Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays were judo training days, and weekends were for leisure or family. The truth was he had never really thought of judo as a serious enough sport for a professional future, but he enjoyed it enough to attend regional competitions and dedicate some of his time to it. It was healthy, and it helped him channel his emotions. Plus, the idea of him focusing on something other than hobbies that kept him locked in his room seemed to reassure his parents, so it was a win-win. He had been practicing it since he was 12 and truly believed he was good at it. Katsuki, by birth, had a sturdy build, and both his father and mother were tall, having passed down to him a good 1.80 meters in height and big bones, which, thanks to the fact that he had exercised most of his life, hadn’t made him slow or clumsy with growth. He kept a healthy weight and knew he wasn’t unpleasant to look at, but the main reason for working on his body wasn’t to attract looks, but to maintain his health. Though Himiko would just call him an idiot.

With a forced stretch and a grimace of exhaustion, he lifted the dumbbell from his chest and exhaled. Sweat ran down his temples, and his blonde bangs stuck to his forehead, making his skin itch, but he stayed in place for a minute before repeating the movement two more times and resting. Through his headphones, DARE by Gorillaz was playing and sending a tingling shock through his brain.

He still had things to think about. Frankly, the last thing on his mind was the dorm issue and his sister's whim. He was almost sure his parents wouldn’t accept it. For now, tomorrow he had to choose a club to join, and there were two that caught his attention. Today, Mina and the others (and he said Mina and the others because it was always Mina who talked the most) had taken turns talking to him about their clubs, and he had found out that there were only two where he could fit in, not remotely: the reading club and the boxing club.

It turned out that the boxing club was more popular than one might think, since Kirishima, Denki, Sero, and at least two other guys from class 3-A were in it, and according to them, there were others from other classes as well, along with younger students, and most of them were boys. On the other hand, the reading club was mostly girls, and Iida was the president (another guy he had met this morning and who turned out to also be the 3-A’s vice president). There was also the art club, with Shinsou, Shoto, and Momo, the music club with Jirou and Tsuyu, and the dance club with Mina, Uraraka, and Midoriya.

His phone vibrated in his pants pocket, at least six times in a row.

Puzzled, he finished the set he was doing and paused for a moment to check the time and his notifications.

Ashido Mina has added you to a group: UA 3A Announcements and homework☠️👙
There are 21 other people in this chat.

Ashido Mina has added you to a group: UA 3A without Professor Aizawa, don't get confused by the chat♿🗣️
There are 20 other people in this chat.

Ashido Mina has added you to a group: The Best Asses in Tokyo 🫦
There are 12 other people in this chat.

Katsuki looked at the notifications with a poker face while feeling sweat dripping down his hair.

Suddenly, a pop-up window lit up his screen with a new message.

Ashido Mina: hey, bakugou!

He blinked.

Ashido Mina: I took the liberty of adding you to the group chats

Ashido Mina: and our personal chat

Ashido Mina: our of

Ashido Mina: you know

Ashido Mina: kiri, uraraka, mido, and the others

Katsuki paused for a moment, wondering whether to respond now or after finishing his workout. He ended up blocking his phone again and going back to his training. When he finished and got back to his car, he stopped for a moment before starting the engine toward home to check his phone again.

The Best Asses in Tokyo🫦: 53 new messages

He opened the notification with a raised eyebrow, a mix of intrigue and confusion. He definitely wasn’t going to read all 53 messages. But the last ten gave him enough context.

~Jirou K: Who invited Monoma?

~Yaomomo: The last time Monoma came to a party at my house, the police had to show up and my parents got really mad.

~LittleMermaid_69: could we change and do it at my place???

~S.Hitoshi: or we just don’t let monoma in

~S.Hitoshi: besides, everyone knows it’ll be at yaomomo’s house, and your place denki is on the other side of the city

~LittleMermaid_69: :(

~PrincessOchako: there’s no way that guy won’t find a way to sneak in, plus we’ll be taking turns guarding the door instead of enjoying the party

~IzukuM: if the police show up, let them take him

Ashido Mina: savage

~Tenya Iida: That would get us all into trouble.

~Eijirou16: writing…

Katsuki frowned. What the hell were they talking about? Anyway, the clock was already past seven PM, and he still had things to do, so he put the phone down on the passenger seat and drove toward home. Maybe tomorrow someone would kindly explain what all of that was about.

Chapter Text

When he walked through the door the next morning, Kirishima motioned for him to come closer from where he was tying Mina’s hair into little bows.

He had just dropped Himiko off at her classroom. She had been chattering all morning about wanting to join the dance club and how she had been invited to a party (which turned out to be the same one his classmates had been talking about). Katsuki had pretended not to care just to avoid encouraging her to go, but he had noticed how excited she was about it (though, honestly, when wasn’t she?)

“Hey, man” Kirishima patted him on the shoulder in a friendly greeting, and he simply nodded back politely. Adjusting his glasses, he glanced between the boy and the girl. Mina was eating a lollipop.

“Hey,” he said simply.

“How are you, Bakugou?” Mina pulled the lollipop out of her mouth, looking at him with an expression far too energetic for it to be barely past seven in the morning. Not even Katsuki, after his morning cardio and everything, felt that cheerful this early.

“I’m fine, Mina, thanks. What about you guys?” he asked, mostly out of politeness.

“Great,” she said with a grin, leaning forward and making Kirishima lose his grip on the bow he was tying on the left side of her head. Her pink hair fluffed out in all directions, and the boy sighed. “Have you picked a club to join yet?”

Katsuki nodded. He had thought about it last night before going to bed and was happy with his decision.

“Well?” she pressed. Kirishima fixed his gaze on him, also curious. Behind him, he heard the door open and a couple of voices enter the room, which had been mostly empty except for the three of them and a handful of others. It was still early.

“I’m joining the boxing club,” he finally said, glancing at the redhead. The boy grinned widely and gave him an approving wink.

“Man, that’s awesome.” Katsuki nodded.

“Back in Musutafu, I practiced judo, so I figured this was the closest thing I could find for now,” he added.

“Whoa—what? Judo? Man, Toshi is gonna be thrilled. Lately, Mirko has been sick of training those second-years who don’t take anything seriously and won’t even drink their egg and fish shakes and she and Toshi are over each other's throats like fucking snakes. But—wow. You’re gonna break some noses.”

“Well, not exactly…”

“Bakugou, you’re full of surprises!” Mina cut in excitedly, forming an O with her gloss-covered lips.

“Did someone say surprises?” Shinsou appeared from behind them, his dark circles making him look like he had just rolled out of bed. “For me?”

“No!” Mina laughed.

“Boo.”

“Anyway, we have club activities in the last two periods today, so me and the guys will take you,” Kirishima added as the classroom started to fill up. Katsuki nodded in appreciation and quickly excused himself to drop his backpack at what he had assumed since yesterday would be his designated seat for the rest of the year—behind Midoriya.

Just at that moment, the sliding door was thrown open with a loud bang, enough to cause a stir, but everyone was so wrapped up in their own things that no one paid it any mind. The boy who had entered results to be, in fact, Midoriya, who seemed to be in a hurry, with his backpack hanging open from one arm, a piece of bread clamped between his teeth, and a pair of… shoes? in his hand. He stumbled over to Uraraka’s desk, paused long enough to take a deep gulp of her coffee without saying a word, and then rushed to his seat.

He dropped his things heavily onto the desk and chair, and only then did Katsuki get a better look at him within the bounds of what he considered socially acceptable—meaning, without looking like a total creep but enough to notice small details. Like how his hair was messy from the wind, his face was red from the cold, and, in fact, those shoes he was carrying were kind of strange.

The boy shoved the rest of the bread into his mouth, chewing as he stared back at Katsuki in silence. Katsuki felt a little weird and a little uncomfortable, but he couldn’t look away. Midoriya just stood there, chewing, looking him straight in the eyes. When he swallowed, he smiled like it was nothing and waved at him, still slightly out of breath. “Hey, Kacchan.”

Katsuki blinked.

“Hey, Midoriya.” The blond lifted a hand in greeting, and as he continued his quick appraisement, he couldn’t help but notice that the green-haired boy was wearing hair clips and lip gloss. Katsuki fought the urge to raise an eyebrow. He liked to think of himself as a fairly open-minded person (largely thanks to his sister), but back in Musutafu, it wasn’t common for people to be so… open or expressive about their preferences or styles (not that he was assuming anything about Midoriya). Maybe the guy was just a little girly, and Katsuki had already noticed that he had some unusual mannerisms. Midoriya sat down, took off his scarf, and stuffed it into his backpack, still wearing that bright smile that revealed symmetrical dimples and crescent-shaped eyes.

“Is your stomach okay?”

Katsuki blanked for a few seconds as his brain tried to process what he was talking about. “What’s wrong with my stomach?”

Midoriya started pulling a few things out of his backpack and setting them on his desk. Katsuki glanced over: a thick needle, scissors, strong thread, a roll of tape. The weird shoes he had walked in with.

“The hot sauce you drank yesterday?” Midoriya said, flipping a shoe inside out and starting to cut… something. He wasn’t even looking at Katsuki, too focused on his task but still keeping up with the conversation. The blond was honestly torn between watching Midoriya’s face or his apparently skilled hands.

“No… I—I didn’t drink the hot sauce—”

“Oh relax, handsome, it’s a joke,” he chuckled, glancing up at him for just three seconds. “Have you decided which club to join?” he asked then. Katsuki would have been annoyed to be asked that question twice before second period had even started, but for some reason, Midoriya’s tone felt less invasive than Mina’s.

“Boxing,” he said simply. Now that he looked more closely, he noticed Midoriya’s face was covered in freckles.

“Wow! Really? That’s so cool!” His eyes widened in surprise as he cut a length of thread with his teeth, did something quick with the needle, and started stitching the shoe’s leather. “I never would’ve pegged you as a fists-first kind of guy, but now that I think about it, you do look pretty tough—though your glasses make you seem kinda cute.”

Katsuki felt his face heat up, but Midoriya was too busy sewing to notice. He cleared his throat a minute later. “Back where I used to live, I practiced judo so—”

Midoriya turned to him in surprise again. “No way! Judo’s like, an Olympic sport, right? Super hard? I mean, I’ve seen it in the Olympics, and it looks pretty serious.”

“It’s just another sport.”

“Don’t be so modest.” He clicked his tongue. “Were you good?”

“I—I don’t know, I guess?”

“Awesome. You have to show me.”

“Show you what?”

Midoriya gave him a deadpan look.

“Your moves, obviously.” He paused, holding the needle in the air before tying a knot and snipping the thread. Then he grabbed the other shoe and repeated the process. “If you do, I’ll invite you to one of my dance classes.”

That reminded Katsuki that Midoriya, Uraraka, and Mina were in the dance club. Katsuki wasn’t very artistic beyond playing the drums, and he was awful at dancing himself. Watching other people dance… wasn’t unpleasant, but it wasn’t particularly enjoyable either. Himiko had taken ballet as a little girl, and his parents had dragged him to her recitals, but she had eventually moved on to more casual street dancing. Now that she was interested in dance again, it didn’t shock him, but it was a bit surprising.

“…Alright, I guess.”

Midoriya shot him another bright smile, and Katsuki finally gave in to his curiosity.

“Sorry, Midoriya, but—”

“Izuku is fine.”

“Oh.” Katsuki processed that for a moment. “Izuku,” his eyes flickered to the shoes in the boy’s hands, “what are you doing?”

“Oh, these? They’re my dance shoes.” Izuku handed him a shoe, and the blonde hesitated for a moment before taking it, unsure if he was even allowed to despite the fact that the other boy was offering it to him. The object looked so delicate and small even in Midoriya’s hand that for a second, he feared he might ruin it with his careless grip. Katsuki was like that— a little rough with small, delicate things. That’s why he preferred not to touch them.

His calloused fingers brushed against soft leather as he took the shoe into his palm, holding it by the sole and bringing it closer to his face to inspect it. It had a natural black sheen, the scent of new leather reaching his nose, and it felt incredibly light in his hand. There were a couple of elastics on the sides, seemingly designed to adjust automatically to the shape of the foot that wore them.

They looked incredibly elegant. Katsuki had never seen shoes like these before.

“They’re… nice.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say. Izuku let out a quiet chuckle.

“They’re new. I have to make some adjustments so they don’t destroy my feet. Kind of like what happens with ballet shoes.”

Katsuki lifted his gaze to look at him immediately. “Do they teach ballet here?”

Izuku shook his head. “Not here. Here, we just learn general dance—nothing too fancy,” he shrugged. “I practice ballet in my free time—”

“Okay, everyone to their seats or I’m going to start crying.” Aizawa walked into the classroom with a yawn big enough to nearly dislocate his jaw, his usual cup of coffee in hand.

Everyone moved to their seats, and Katsuki handed Izuku his shoe. With one last playful smile, the green-haired boy turned around in his seat as the class finally began.

***

"Okay, so... was it good? I mean, on a scale of 1 to 10, what would you say?"

"Nah-ah, girl, I’d give it a four," Uraraka was tying her hair into a high ponytail while shaking her head with a look of annoyance. "I regret it."

"That’s what you get for wanting to hook up at a summer camp. There were kids there, Uraraka, for God’s sake," Mina was sitting in a split, stretching her limbs and joints as if they were made of rubber. Uraraka looked at her dismissively.

"You’re exaggerating."

"Whatever you say, diva."

"As if you and Kirishima haven’t gotten hot and heavy in inappropriate places," Mina’s jaw dropped, and Izuku raised an eyebrow at the comment. He was never too surprised by the accusations his friends threw at each other (sometimes dragging him into them as well).

"At least Kiri is always a 10," Mina shot back. "But okay, nothing is worse than when Izuku got caught in that handicap bathroom that one time." Like now. Izuku sighed. He had been quietly doing butterfly stretches while they waited for Miss Nemuri to arrive, the rest of their classmates warming up in various spots around the studio.

"That was only once, and I don’t regret a thing, bitches," Izuku said, with a frown and pouty, pink lips. "At least Ochako and you had a good time this summer."

"Oh, it’s time for you to spill it out, Izuku." Ochako clung to his arm, looking up at him with big, gossip-hungry eyes, a wide grin stretched across her face, eager to hear about scandalous, reckless, and dirty adventures. The green-haired boy rolled his eyes in disdain.

"I have nothing to tell you, Ochako," he brushed his bangs away from his face, exhausted. "You already know Haitani and I broke up before the holidays, and I spent the whole time practicing." And crying, thank you.

"Oh, please," Mina pointed a pink-painted nail at his chest. "You two break up every two weeks."

"This time—"

"You always say that," his friends replied in unison.

"Girls, but—"

"But you’ve been replying to his messages, haven’t you?"

"Not exactly—"

"Izuku." Ochako cupped his cheek, making him look into her eyes, while Mina placed a hand on his knee. "We know you’re having a hard time, please don’t keep anything from us."

Izuku almost felt his eyes well up, but he swallowed hard and gave them a smile that made his cheeks tremble. "It’s not my best moment, but I know I won’t die."

Mina grimaced, clearly fed up with watching Izuku go through this over and over again. "I can’t stand that idiot."

Ochako sighed, tired. "Mina, please—"

"No, seriously. Why is it always Izuku who has to suffer? I’m sick of seeing my best friend crying in the corners over some jerk who—"

"Mina." This time, it was Izuku’s voice that interrupted her. The girl shut her mouth, frowning in frustration. "I know he’s an idiot. But I think I’m the bigger idiot for letting this cycle repeat endlessly." He whispered the last part, ashamed of himself. Ochako gave his forearm a reassuring squeeze. Then he waited a little seconds before he added: "Two weeks ago, he came to my house with flowers..."

"You’re not seriously thinking of forgiving him over some flowers!" Mina shouted.

"Izuku, it’s okay if you—" Ochako said at the same time.

"I..." He sighed. "He really seems sorry," when he saw Mina getting ready to interrupt, he raised his hand to stop her, and the pink-haired girl fell silent again, frustration evident on her face. "...Yes, I’ve responded to his messages, and we’ve talked about it. He explained what happened."

Ochako closed her eyes in visible pain. Mina scowled. Izuku chose to ignore them both.

"How exactly did he explain the fact that you caught him with his tongue down another guy’s throat?" Mina blurted out. Izuku almost broke down again at the harshness of her words, which brought the memory crashing back onto him like 200 bricks. He quickly pulled himself together.

"He was drunk," he argued immediately. "We all do stupid things we don’t mean when we’re drunk. That guy was all over him, and—we had been arguing—" he sighed again, feeling the words clogging in his throat. Normally, he had no trouble articulating his thoughts, but when it came to Haitani—especially justifying his actions—he turned into a trembling, stuttering mess. "I know you don’t agree, but he’s going through a hard time," he said firmly, leaving no room for more complaints. "His dad passed away just a few months ago, and he’s struggling. It’s my duty as his boyfriend to understand how he feels. Obviously, he has a lot of shit to process. I’ll let him get close and see how we work things out."

Izuku knew that what he was doing was wrong. Simply put, what was happening (to him) was very wrong. It wasn’t the first time he had overlooked Haitani’s mistakes just to keep a relationship that did nothing but destroy his self-esteem and feed that unhealthy dependency that kept him on edge. But he didn’t know what else to do. Izuku truly hoped Haitani would keep trying until he could smooth out the thorns in his heart, because he knew he wasn’t made of stone. As much as he tried to understand the man, he was still hurt by what Haitani had done, and it would take time to heal. It wasn’t the first time Haitani had slipped up like this, and each time it got harder to ignore. He didn’t plan to cave in so easily, so he hoped at least Haitani would put in more effort to win him back before giving up.

What Mina and Ochako thought didn’t matter to him.

When Nemuri entered the studio, dressed in her usual nude-colored leotard and navy-blue tights with bright red ballet flats, as eccentric as ever, Izuku seized the opportunity to get up and cut the conversation short. Leaving his friends talking among themselves—something he often did, in fact—he walked to the center of the room, his well-worn beige ballerinas already snug on his feet. The soles were darkened from constant friction against the studio’s polished wood floor, and the leather on the sides was cracking with time, but they still served their purpose. He wouldn’t make his mom buy a new pair while these could still hold up, and his feet weren’t growing anymore. Besides, he had just bought a new pair of jazz shoes since his old ones had torn right before the holidays.

With a quick motion, he tied his wrap skirt securely around his waist and adjusted the long sleeves of his leotard until they fit snugly on his wrists while watching his friends rise to their feet, joining the other students as they all gathered in the center of the room. Nemuri dropped her things in the lockers at the back and quickly approached them with a bright smile, tying her hair into a high bun, her poised figure commanding silence and respect across the studio.

"Well, hello there, my little birdies," she greeted in a sing-song tone, blowing a playful kiss with glossy red lips from the front of the room. A few students responded with applauses or excited cheers. "How were your holidays?"

Miss Nemuri was one of Izuku’s favorite people. She was charismatic, enigmatic, with a charm that pulled everyone under her wing with just a smile or a laugh. She always made an effort to be attentive and kind to her students, and on top of that, she had a sassy and playful side. She was equally mischievous and witty and always had advice to offer when one of her students needed it. Izuku himself had gone to her when life became too overwhelming, and in return, he had received extraordinary guidance, comfort, and even some laughter.

"Did you dance a lot?"

The crowd of teenagers answered with loud cheers.

"Excellent. That’s what I like to hear," she tapped on her phone, and suddenly, music blasted through the speakers around the room. Lady Gaga’s Abracadabra boomed from the corners. The students jumped and cheered again, their excitement reignited. "This year is going to be a busy one for all of us. Regionals will be here before you know it, and with all the group routines and solos, we have a lot to fine-tune." Nemuri clapped twice. "Now, everyone, warm up and get to work, quickly."

Izuku set out to do just that.

***

Katsuki was cleaning the lenses of his glasses on the fabric of his jacket while being roughly pushed forward by Kaminari and Sero, who rested their arms on his shoulders with such familiarity that it caught him off guard.

They were shouting among themselves and with Kirishima, who was walking behind them with another pair of guys that Katsuki had learned were named Sato and Ojiro. The hallway was in chaos as everyone headed to their respective clubs.

“…Man, we also have to plan the freshman initiation,” Kaminari said mid-sentence, turning to point a finger at Kirishima, who was putting Ojiro in a headlock. “Those hairless asses first-years won’t escape the same nightmare I went through two years ago.”

Ojiro responded breathlessly from his place between Kirishima’s arm and forearm while they all continued walking down the hallway. “The guys from 3-B already bought the milk, we have to buy the magic powder.”

“Don’t make it sound like it’s cocaine.”

Kaminari chuckled.

They walked for about five minutes, crossing from one building to another, still on the ground floor. Katsuki didn’t know what number or letter this building was, but the noise and number of people in the hallways had significantly decreased. After taking a couple more turns, they finally stopped in front of a pair of red aluminum doors. From inside, the muffled sounds of music, metal clashing, and conversations could be heard.

“Welcome to the papito’s factory, Bakugou.” Kaminari said, and Kirishima caught up from behind. All together, they pushed the doors open to let him inside.

It was basically a gym. There were guys and a few girls working out everywhere, chatting, and doing other things. The place was quite large; Katsuki couldn’t quite gauge its full capacity due to all the equipment scattered around, but at that moment, there were easily at least 20 people inside. In the center of the gym was an octagon. This detail especially caught his attention.

Katsuki observed the place with pleasant surprise. In Musutafu, while the gym where he trained in judo was also big, it wasn’t this big, and it wasn’t set up as an actual gym. It was just a space for training judo with his teammates and coach. Plus, here, they had an octagon, and he could tell that the locker rooms and showers were in the back. This was a full-fledged gym, separate from the one in the main building used for general sports classes.

How much did one have to pay to study here?

Katsuki knew his parents weren’t rich, but he vaguely wondered if this wasn’t a bit excessive, considering they had two kids.

A tall, extremely thin, and lanky man approached them. He had a whistle hanging around his neck and wore a cap with the school logo printed on the front. He silently scanned each of the six of them before settling his gaze back on Kirishima, who smiled at him with all teeth and excited eyes.

“Hey, Toshi.” The redhead offered a fist bump that the man didn’t return, but Kirishima didn’t seem affected in the slightest. “Guess what.”

Toshi raised a finger to tell him to stop. “I don’t want to hear what you did on your vacation unless it has to do with your training, son.”

“But—”

“Who’s this boy?”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you!”

“He’s telling the truth,” Sero jumped in. “Let us…”

“Introduce you…” Kaminari added.

“To…”

“Bakugou Katsuki.” This time, all five of them said in unison.

“He’s our new classmate from… uh… somewhere else,” the redhead finished, clearly unable to remember the name of Katsuki’s hometown.

Katsuki was starting to get tired of not being allowed to speak for himself. Well, maybe he should start being firmer about not just staying silent all the time.

With a barely concealed sigh of annoyance, he shook Kaminari and Sero off his shoulders, adjusted his glasses on his nose, and offered the man a polite handshake. “It’s a pleasure, Coach… Toshi.” Since he only knew the man’s first name, he didn’t say anything else. The coach returned his handshake with one much more enthusiastic and firm.

“Nice to meet you, young boy,” he said with a smile that deepened the dark circles under his eyes. “I’m Toshinori, but you can call me Toshi.”

“Alright, Toshinori.” Katsuki wasn’t very comfortable using nicknames for adults—it gave him the ick. The man stepped aside to grab a clipboard with papers from a desk against the wall to his left and started jotting things down quickly. He shot a glance at the others and gestured behind him with his thumb. “You. Get to training. Young Bakugou, stay with me for a few minutes to complete your new member registration.”

Katsuki nodded, adjusting his backpack on his shoulder as his classmates waved goodbye to him and disappeared into the locker room to change. Toshinori led him to the desk where he had grabbed the papers, and they both sat on metal chairs. The older man began asking him a few questions.

“Have you practiced any sports before, young Bakugou?”

He nodded. “I did judo.” He said simply. The man lifted his gaze from the paper he had been writing on and looked at him in surprise. Blinking, an incredibly bright smile spread across his face like an infectious gesture. He placed a heavy, enthusiastic hand on his shoulder, shaking him carelessly.

“Oh, really?”

Katsuki nodded again, recalling Kirishima’s words about the man getting, in fact, ecstatic. “Yeah. For several—some years, I was in Musutafu’s league until we moved here.”

“Then—That. Oh, that’s fantastic.” Toshinori resumed furiously jotting things down on his papers. “I think your friends already told you a little about the club, but it doesn’t hurt for me to give you some more details. This is the Mixed Martial Arts Club.”

Katsuki furrowed his brows slightly at hearing the word “friends” come from the coach, but he frowned even more when he mentioned mixed martial arts. According to Kirishima, this was just a boxing club. Toshinori seemed to notice his confusion because he tilted his head with the same puzzled expression, inviting him to voice his thoughts. “What’s the matter, young Bakugou?”

“I thought this was just a boxing club,” he said, glancing around the gym. “Kirish—those guys didn’t mention anything about mixed martial arts.”

“Well, it depends on what you’re looking for,” Toshinori gestured toward the gym’s interior as if presenting him with a vast universe. “You can choose to learn and practice just one discipline or multiple. Coach Mirko and I are qualified for that, but almost everyone here does mixed.”

Katsuki nodded. Judo was part of mixed martial arts. He wasn’t sure if boxing was too, but in the end, almost everything boiled down to the same thing—fighting. So, he supposed it was.

“I see,” Katsuki scratched the back of his neck. “I—um—I’d like to train in mixed martial arts.”

Toshinori gave him that big, bright smile again.

“Excellent, young Bakugou. We just need to take your weight and height, and then I’ll give you a quick tour of the gym so you know where to put your things. Oh, and we’ll assign you a locker. The only thing you’ll need to bring is sportswear and any personal items if you plan on showering here.”

Toshinori stood up and motioned for him to follow as he led him along the entire edge of the gym. "Coach Mirko will tell you about the Plus Ultra shakes, and we'll also give you a uniform for when there are events."

Katsuki noticed that his classmates had changed into sportswear and that Sato and Kaminari had climbed into the ring. Below, the rest of them had spread out. Toshinori kept talking to him with the same enthusiasm about the club’s basics, leading him from place to place until he finally introduced him to Coach Mirko. The woman was tall and burly, with a strange accent that Katsuki identified as European—perhaps Russian or from the outskirts. She was rough in manner, and when she talked about the so-called Plus Ultra shakes, Katsuki nearly turned green.

"Three raw eggs, two bananas, five scoops of oats, half a liter of milk, 15 grams of wheat germ, half a cup of Greek yogurt, 15 milliliters of fish oil, half a cup of water and four pieces of broccoli. Half an hour before training—no excuses. I'll find out if you don’t drink it and instead take that garbage protein you idiotic kids buy online.”

Honestly, the boy was left speechless.

"Alright," he simply said, nodding a bit dazedly as he watched the coach’s back walking away at a brisk pace. "O-okay."

Beside him, Toshinori patted his shoulder in camaraderie. "Now you can get changed and meet me and the rest of your teammates in the octagon." Katsuki nodded and walked away with hesitant steps toward the locker room. The locker area consisted of three aisles covered from floor to ceiling, with benches in the middle. Towards the back on the left were the showers, which were basically a large space with a drain in the middle, enclosed by meter-and-a-half-high walls and surrounded by showerheads on the walls. Katsuki felt a bit intimidated. The showers in Musutafu had dividers and a door, making them more private. That didn’t seem to be the case here.

He walked to the other end of the place to take a look at the toilets, then returned to the lockers, quickly searching for an unoccupied one. Luckily, he had brought the lock he used at the gym in his backpack, so he changed into a pair of sweatpants and a tank top and stored his belongings in the locker, including his glasses. He had significant myopia and astigmatism in both eyes, but he could manage fine without glasses for a couple of hours before the headaches started. He also put on his old Converse and headed straight for the gym, making his way to the octagon, where Sero and Kirishima were now inside. A small crowd had gathered below along with both coaches.

Both boys wore gloves and were circling each other like animals in the wild. Kirishima suddenly stretched out an arm to try to reach Sero, but the dark-haired boy dodged his grasp with the agility of a gazelle. The redhead was visibly bigger than the other boy and that reduced his agility, while Sero seemed to have plenty of it. Kirishima repeated the move, but this time Sero grabbed his arm, pulling him inward and downward, trapping him in a hold under his arm. Kirishima remained still, breathing heavily for a couple of seconds before trying to break free with the strength of a bull.

"You repeated the move. Why did you repeat the move? He already knew you were going to do that," Mirko snapped in frustration from below. "Free yourself." Cheers echoed around the arena.

"Damn it, Hanta," Katsuki heard Kirishima's breathless muttering, though a playful grin spread across his face as he forcefully pushed against Sero’s arm, which was keeping him captive and cutting off his air. "I'm gonna kick your ass."

The other boy just laughed, but before a full minute had passed, his laughter was interrupted by the dry sound of heavy bodies hitting the canvas floor.

Kirishima had pushed Sero until they both fell. Now Kirishima was on top of Sero, still in his hold, but the impact had destabilized the dark-haired boy’s grip, allowing Kirishima to land a punch to the liver that left him pale.

Katsuki analyzed the fight in his mind, thinking about what he would have done in Sero’s place and in Kirishima’s place. The guys were good. Not that he was in a position to judge, but he could see himself putting up a good fight against them. Sero’s bone structure gave him agility and speed to land precise blows, while Kirishima’s larger muscle mass allowed him to counter and limit his opponent’s movement. It didn’t take long before the two became a tangle of hands and feet, an entanglement of skin on the mat, rolling between punches and difficult holds.

Suddenly, a whistle blared loudly next to his ear.

"Time!" Toshinori shouted, and in the octagon, Sero and Kirishima instantly released each other with relief. "That was good for the first day back from break, sons" he added.

The boys climbed down from the octagon and bumped shoulders good-naturedly as they approached Toshinori and Mirko.

"You're sluggish," Mirko immediately said. "Go train." The boys picked up their bottles from the floor, whatever they contained, and after a brief chat, they left.

"Now get in, Bakugou," Toshinori turned to him with a smile. "We'll give you three minutes with Sen."

A black-haired boy emerged from the crowd, smiling cheerfully at him.

"He's our friendliest blue belt," the coach continued. "He’s a second year. This is just to see what level we can place you in."

"Uhm—" Katsuki hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should mention that in Musutafu, he was also a blue belt. But he didn’t know how the ranking system worked in mixed martial arts. In fact, he didn’t even know they had a system like that. Maybe it was something adapted from other disciplines. And he didn’t want to sound cocky or anything, but he also didn’t want to hurt anyone in the process (or look like an idiot). Toshinori looked at him questioningly, and Katsuki ran a hand through his hair, self-conscious. "In my old judo team, I was, uhm—a blue belt too?"

The man stared at him in silence for a few seconds before suddenly realizing something.

"You can't fight Sen," he said, turning to the boy and gesturing for him to leave. The boy looked slightly disappointed but didn’t ask any questions and left without a word. "Good Lord, this could have ended very badly."

Yeah, tell me about it.

Well, now he knew that a blue belt in judo was clearly not the same as a blue belt in mixed martial arts.

"Tetsutetsu!" Then Toshinori suddenly shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth. In the distance, a silver-haired boy who had been struggling for his life on the pulleys immediately let go of the handles and shook his head to rid himself of the sweat blocking his vision. He approached them with a sure stride. He was big—probably of the same build as Katsuki—and had a rather... energetic aura.

The boy stopped in front of them and took a long sip from the bottle in his hand. He wiped his lips with his forearm. “What’s up, Toshi?”

Toshinori gave him a big smile. Katsuki was starting to wonder if his face didn’t hurt from smiling so much. “This is Bakugou. He’s new to the club.” Toshinori went silent for a few seconds, as if waiting for something to happen. Katsuki figured he might be expecting him to shake Tetsutetsu’s hand, so he did. The boy took it energetically and smiled. “I want you to spar with him, just as a demonstration to see what level we should place him at,” the coach continued. Katsuki scratched the back of his neck. He still thought this was a dumb idea. If he had already told the man his judo rank, couldn’t he just align that with the mixed martial arts levels and place him accordingly? Tetsutetsu’s eyes widened slightly, and he tilted his head, sizing him up. “He’s a blue belt in judo.”

“Sure thing, Toshi,” the boy said. “We can have a match.”

The man nodded, pleased. Without another word, Tetsutetsu climbed into the octagon, and Katsuki, still a little confused, followed him. From below, Toshinori throw them across the cage two pairs of gloves, which the boys quickly picked up and put on.

The blond stared at the silver-haired boy in silence, tense and still, and when Toshinori’s whistle echoed through the gym, Tetsutetsu immediately got into an offensive stance. Katsuki glanced downward out of the corner of his eye and noticed, once again, that a small crowd had gathered around the ring.

Then, a crucial and infuriating realization hit him like a bus.

He didn’t even know the rules of MMA.

He looked at his opponent with confusion but still got into position.

Well, he’d figure that out later.

Tetsutetsu launched at him with a kick that landed right on his hip, sending a sharp sting of pain radiating down to his right glute, but the boy didn’t give him time to react before shoving him down with crushing force. His back cracked as it hit the thick mat.

Katsuki snapped out of it in an instant.

With a fluid motion, he pushed back and slipped out from under the other boy, landing strong kicks directly at his chest. Tetsutetsu dodged most of them, but one landed, sending him flying onto his backside with an animalistic grunt. He got back up quickly, but he was slow and Katsuki was already on top of him in less than two seconds, raining down precise punches. Tetsutetsu blocked with his arms and hands, but he couldn’t protect himself entirely. Katsuki’s punches were heavy and relentless, their impact astonishing.

From below, the students shouted and cheered for both fighters.

Tetsutetsu raised both hands to try to grab Katsuki’s fists but failed several times, taking hits to the face instead. When he finally succeeded, he quickly sat up, locking Katsuki in a tight hold that flipped them over, putting the silver-haired boy on top. Katsuki struggled beneath him, trying to break free, but Tetsutetsu’s strength was overwhelming—it was clear in the way his biceps tensed. He buried his head into Katsuki’s shoulder before pulling back to start landing punches to his ribs. Katsuki immediately retaliated with fierce strikes to his opponent’s head and back.

Sweat trickled down from the crown of Katsuki’s head, running down his back, temples, and neck. His face was twisted in concentration and pain, and he growled like a wild animal while his mind calculated his next move. This guy Tetsutetsu definitely knew a thing or two—but not as much as Katsuki. He smirked, satisfied.

Taking advantage of their position, he wrapped his legs around the boy and applied just enough pressure with his knees to make it hurt. He heard Tetsutetsu gasp in surprise in his ear, and for a second, the boy froze, pausing his assault on Katsuki’s ribs. Katsuki loosened his grip just enough and used his opponent’s momentary shock to shove him off and scramble to his feet.

Tetsutetsu hit the mat heavily and stayed down for a moment to catch his breath. Katsuki gave him time, waiting patiently behind him. He wasn’t some mindless brute throwing punches to kill. Not anymore.

When Tetsutetsu finally stood up, he assumed a defensive stance, mirroring Katsuki. They circled each other for several seconds, sizing each other up again, until Tetsutetsu threw the first punch—aiming for Katsuki’s face but only landing on his arm as Katsuki blocked it. In an instant, the blond closed the distance between them, catching Tetsutetsu off guard as he delivered a series of punches to his abdomen. The silver-haired boy exhaled sharply, the air forced from his lungs like a deflating balloon—just as a whistle pierced the tense atmosphere of the gym.

Katsuki immediately stepped away from the hunched-over Tetsutetsu, who clutched his left rib with a pained grimace—but also a grin. The gym erupted in cheers and applause.

“That was brutal, Bakugou,” the boy said through the noise, offering him his gloved hand. Katsuki took it, shaking it firmly, and even allowed himself a small, curved smirk. Both of them were drenched in sweat, all heavy breaths and bruised bodies.

“Great fight, Tetsutetsu,” Katsuki nodded at him, and they both stepped down from the octagon. Below, Toshinori and Mirko were already waiting.

“Excellent, boys!” Toshinori exclaimed, practically like a cheerleader. He and Mirko spoke almost at the same time.

“You’ve got some tricks under your sleeve, kiddo.” That was Mirko. Katsuki simply stared at her blankly. He had enjoyed this fight more than he wanted to admit.

Since moving, he hadn’t sparred with anyone in over a month and a half. He had missed the adrenaline rush, the way his heart pounded and his breathing quickened, the heat flooding his body as soon as he stepped into the mat to fight for his life and win.

It was like shedding his skin to wear a new one up there. Leaving behind his life to live another. His fears, dreams, thoughts, emotions—all of them transformed in there.

Katsuki had always been confused about which version of himself was the most real.

Was it the one who lived an ordinary life, who didn’t have to throw punches to survive? The one who read books in his spare time? The one who preferred silence, who got top grades?

Or was it the one whose ribs got broken? The one who let his anger fuel endless fisticuffs?

Which one?

It was hard to look in the mirror every day and ask himself the same question.

And there were many things Katsuki didn’t tell people. In fact, to put it simply, Katsuki didn’t tell people anything.

Like how he had won the state judo championship at 16. Or how he had taken cooking classes at 13 and become an amazing cook—his family especially loved his desserts. Or how he had traveled to the Warner Bros. Studio Tour in London at 9 with Himiko and her parents to see the making of Harry Potter.

Or how he had learned to grow sunflowers at the age of five. At a high cost.

“…So, I think that was incredible, boys. And young Bakugou, I think you’ll fit right in with your teammates. In my opinion, you’d be a black belt without a problem—”

“Don’t inflate this callow’s ego too much.”

“No, Mirko, I’m sure we both saw the same thing—”

“No one here is a black belt. Neither will he be. He wasn’t a black belt in judo. He’ll work for it like everyone else.”

“Well—maybe a brown belt.”

“I’d say purple.”

“Purple is too low for his skill level—”

Mirko sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Toshinori, you’ve seen him fight once.”

“I don’t need—he’s got a great potential—”

“Purple. We’ll reassess in six months to see if he’s ready for brown before he graduates, so he can take it with him wherever he decides to go.”

Toshinori seemed to think for a moment.

“…Alright,” he relented.

Mirko nodded and turned to look at Katsuki and Tetsutetsu, his brow furrowed and shoulders tense. “Could’ve been better, but it wasn’t bad,” she added, and before anyone could respond, she had already disappeared into the small crowd dispersing in all directions.

Toshinori jotted down a few notes on his clipboard and smiled at them before giving one last instruction. “Thank you for helping us with this, young Tetsutetsu. You can return to your training,” he said kindly to the guy, who simply shrugged with a carefree gesture and then offered a friendly fist bump to Katsuki. Katsuki hesitated slightly but returned the gesture, feeling a bit confused yet appreciative of the show of camaraderie. The boy picked up his bottle, which he had left abandoned at the foot of the arena, and returned to the machine he had been using earlier. “And you, young Bakugou, now that we’ve established you’ll be ranked as a purple belt, we’ll give it to you next week along with your uniform,” he commented while continuing to write on the sheet of paper resting against the clipboard’s hard surface. “Most third-years are purple belts, and only a few make it to brown—unless they’re new students,” the coach chuckled lightly, “so you’ll be training with your classmates. But in your case, since you’ve already practiced some of this before, I think it’ll be your classmates who’ll be struggling to keep up with you.”

Katsuki scratched the back of his neck, unable to come up with a response that wouldn’t bring the focus back to his previous training, so he remained silent. Toshinori patted his shoulder and finally wrapped up before stepping away toward his office. “Go find your teammates and stick with them, young Bakugou. They’ll explain the rest to you.”

With a blank expression, the blond watched as he turned around and disappeared behind a door labeled Authorized Personnel Only. Katsuki had no idea how long he stood there until, suddenly, it felt like the oxygen rushed back into his brain in a jarring jolt. He blinked, snapping out of his brief trance, and then began walking through the gym, scanning his surroundings for any of his teammates.

For some reason Katsuki couldn’t quite grasp, the gym now seemed emptier, and he could see that two groups had formed in the center. The machines were completely unoccupied, and the coaches were nowhere in sight. He looked toward both groups, searching for what seemed the most logical thing to find quickly: Kirishima’s woodpecker-like hair. It didn’t take long before he spotted a tuft of bright red sticking out on his right side, so he headed in that direction.

“Kirishima?” He tapped the boy’s shoulder hesitantly with a finger, making him turn around. The moment Kirishima saw him, he flashed a grin of sharp white teeth.

“Bakubro!” he exclaimed, throwing a heavy arm around him, dragging him into the circle they had formed with the others. The sudden pull made Katsuki stumble, pressing him against Kirishima’s side as if they were lifelong friends. Katsuki felt uncomfortable but didn’t say anything, simply shifting away discreetly with a bewildered expression. “Dude, you were badass!”

If Katsuki hadn’t already been feeling out of place, his discomfort skyrocketed when Kirishima’s enthusiastic outburst made the rest of the group turn to look at him, suddenly noticing his presence.

Kaminari let out a yell as if he were in a nightclub at 2 AM instead of a gym during school hours, raising his hand for a high five.

“Bakugou, my guy, an absolute killing machine! Or should I call you theArnold fucking Schwarzenegger?”

Katsuki resisted the urge to roll his eyes into his skull and simply let out a deep sigh, his expression unreadable. He slowly and hesitantly returned the high five.

Suddenly, from the other side of the circle, a girl’s voice burst out energetically.

“You’re gonna be a great addition to the team, Bakugou!” A girl with striking fuchsia hair and a contagious smile grabbed one of his gloved hands and squeezed it in greeting (which also made him uncomfortable, but he returned the squeeze as quickly as he could before pulling away). “I’m Mei. Hatsume Mei. Third-year, Class B.”

Katsuki nodded to show he had understood her words.

“Not much of a talker, huh?” she grinned mischievously, and he felt a slight heat rise to his cheeks, though thankfully, no one seemed to notice.

“I talk when necessary,” he replied, trying not to sound rude but making it clear he wasn’t looking to continue the conversation. The girl seemed to catch the hint because she didn’t press further, and neither did Kaminari. Kirishima simply leaned in slightly toward him and whispered, “We’re about to start the team training, Bakubro, so I’ll explain things to you once we’re done here.”

The rest of the hour had passed just as quickly as the previous one for Katsuki, considering he hadn’t actually done much in this last part. He had watched a few quick sparring matches among the team—ten members in total, including himself—and most of the training had consisted of paired kickboxing drills. Katsuki had noticed that within this group, there were the six students from Class 3-A, two girls (Hatsume and another girl with orange hair whose name he didn’t know yet), Tetsutetsu, and another student from Class B. Kirishima had explained that the other group consisted of second-years, while the first-years—new recruits—were in a classroom with Mirko and Toshinori receiving their orientation.

When training ended and everyone headed to the locker room to shower, Katsuki started feeling uneasy. He lagged behind his teammates, taking slow sips from his water bottle as an excuse to avoid conversation. However, Sero noticed and gestured for him to hurry up, which made Kirishima and the others stop to wait for him.

“Come on, Bakubro,” Kirishima urged. Katsuki had only just found out minutes ago that Kirishima was the captain of the third-year mixed martial arts team. “We’ll go over the rest of the team training stuff with you in the showers.”

Katsuki gripped his water bottle tightly, scrambling for a quick excuse in his mind. He stopped walking, making his teammates pause as well. Several seconds passed before he finally responded.

“I… I’ll shower at home,” he said, running a nervous, trembling hand through his sweat-damp hair. “I forgot to bring a change of clean clothes.” He added rapidly.

His classmates looked at him in silence for a moment, but they seemed to buy the excuse because they chuckled and playfully smacked their foreheads in mock frustration.

“Dude, how’d you forget that?” Then they burst into laughter.

Katsuki couldn’t think of anything else to do except force a small, strained smile to keep up the act.

He was going to have to come up with a more believable excuse that he could stick to throughout the school year—otherwise, this wasn’t going to work.

Chapter Text

"Brother!"

It was Friday at 8 a.m. when Himiko’s sharp cry echoed through the gym, making him startle and come to a halt.

He had been running along the edge of the gym with the rest of his classmates, completing five laps as instructed by the P.E. teacher, who stood in the center of the court, stopwatch in hand. Like everyone else, he turned toward the door to see his sister clumsily jogging inside.

"Brother!" she repeated, approaching him, and the murmurs behind him started immediately as the rest of his classmates seemed to slow their pace, curiously observing the scene. Even Mr. Taishiro appeared interested in what was happening.

"Bro—"

"I heard you the first time, Himiko," Katsuki muttered when she finally reached him, grabbing her wrist to pull her aside into a corner where they wouldn’t be in the way. He signaled to Mr. Taishiro. "Just a second, Sensei." The man assured him it was fine.

"What’s going on, Himiko?"

She stared at him blankly for a moment before flashing a sharp, feline grin.

"I need a favor," she declared as if refusal wasn’t an option, and quickly added, "It involves your presence and our car." He raised an eyebrow.

"Our?"

Himiko pouted, stomping her foot in a way that almost made her brother laugh.

"Katsuki, seriously," she said, her expression leaving no room for jokes. That made him assume this had to be something serious—serious by Himiko’s standards, at least. Then she finally spoke:

"You have to take me shopping."

Katsuki raised his other eyebrow.

"Shopping?"

She nodded, pulling her phone from the pocket of her uniform, typing something quickly before holding up the screen for her brother to see. A loose red dress, mid-thigh length, with a deep V-neck and frilled details stared back at him.

Once upon a time, Katsuki would’ve had something to say about it, but Himiko had put him in his place enough times. He glanced at the image, then at her.

"I need this dress for tomorrow’s party, and I need you to take me to get my nails done." She finished, and he swatted the phone away from his face with a hand.

"Fine," he agreed—maybe too quickly for his own liking—but it was Friday, and he knew there was no point in arguing with Himiko. He’d lose anyway and probably get scolded in class for wasting time. "I’ll meet you in the parking lot at two."

She jumped into his arms like an excited rabbit, grabbing his cheeks and squishing them like they were marshmallows.

"I love you, bug," she said, planting a kiss on his cheek.

Katsuki pulled away in mock disgust, wiping his cheek with his forearm.

"Whatever. Did you really come all the way here just to tell me that?"

"Obviously."

He ruffled her hair with brotherly mischief. "Unbelievable, Himiko."

She winked. "Try me."

He rolled his eyes so hard he almost saw inside his skull. "Get back to class now, or I’ll tell Mom and Dad you’re skipping for no reason. Also, where did you even get the money to go shopping?"

She chuckled. "Robbed Dad."

Of course. What else could it be?

He gave her a gentle push on the shoulder, making her turn on her heel. "Get out of here. See you at two."

"This was actually important!"

"Sure, Himiko."

"I’ve been texting you since 7:45!"

"Go. We’re both gonna get in trouble."

She stumbled away, not entirely convinced her brother understood the gravity of the task she had entrusted to him. But deep down, she trusted his good judgment.

As she passed Professor Taishiro, she waved at him with a bright, friendly smile. At UA, the P.E. teacher was the same for all grades.

"It’s nice to see Himiko-chan around," Kaminari’s voice came from behind as Katsuki rejoined the running circuit, watching his sister disappear through the gym doors.

Katsuki almost felt his forehead heat up with irritation but decided to ignore it. He focused on running instead, but soon the rest of his classmates joined in on the conversation, clustering around him as they ran.

"Your sister seems really nice," Jirou commented with a smile, jogging to his left. "I hope she comes to the party tomorrow."

Katsuki tensed beside her, and though he thought no one would notice, Shinsou patted his back in a gesture meant to relax him, his usual blank expression staring into nothing.

"Relax, Bakugou," the purple-haired boy murmured. "We’ll take care of your little sister, and she’s gonna have a great time."

Katsuki wanted to tell him that no one needed to take care of his sister—that he could do it just fine (or rather, that Himiko could handle herself perfectly well). But Momo’s sudden excitement caught him off guard.

"That would be amazing!" she exclaimed, running over from the front where she had been with Tsuyu and Jirou. "I can’t wait to meet her, Bakugou!"

"Oh, she’s wonderful," Mina chimed in before launching into praises about the girl. She, Midoriya, and Uraraka had met Himiko through the dance club, unlike most of their other classmates. And then there was Kaminari, who had met her on the first day of school.

The blond didn’t know what to say.

His sister was the kind of girl who fit in everywhere—social and easygoing as she was. It made sense that people were drawn to her. She was charismatic, with an energy that naturally pulled people in. So usually, he didn’t worry about her making a bad impression or anything like that. And even if that were the case, he wouldn’t care. It was her against a bunch of strangers.

Besides, Himiko seemed excited about it, and if their dad had given her money to get what she needed, then she had probably already talked to their parents about the party and gotten permission.

On top of that, their parents had been so busy with the new office renovations that he’d barely seen them all week since Monday. Katsuki had no idea what conclusion they had come to after attending the parent meeting about the dorms. It was something that had been on his mind, but he knew there was no use dwelling on his anxiety over it.

"Right? She’s adorable," Kaminari added with a pout that sent shivers down Katsuki’s spine. He ran a hand through his spiky hair before quickening his pace and pulling ahead.

***

Izuku shifted uneasily in his seat. He had been sitting in complete silence for ten minutes, staring straight ahead through the windshield, watching cars pass by, the traffic light change, people walking their dogs on the sidewalk. The cold air coming in through the window burned his nose, and the sun that had scorched his skin in July was now hidden behind a thick wall of gray clouds.

Haitani sat beside him, gripping the steering wheel with tense hands, the car engine turned off. His black hair, chin-length and messy in every direction. Three days' worth of stubble on his face. A hickey at the base of his neck.

The greenette swore he was going to throw up at any moment.

Haitani had asked to meet the night before, promising they would fix things between them. It wasn’t that Izuku was naive (or maybe just a little), but in his head, he had pictured the man showing up with more flowers, asking not only for his forgiveness but also for his mother’s—though he knew that wouldn’t be enough for her—and then they’d be happy again, this time for good.

So now it was Saturday afternoon, and he was sitting in his truck with a massive lump of discomfort stuck in his throat.

Yeah. Too stupid.

The reality check had hit him like a frying pan to the ribs.

Haitani reached out and turned on the radio with an exasperated slap.

Turns out, in Haitani’s mind, the concept of "fixing things" was very different from Izuku’s.

"I want us to have an open relationship," he had said bluntly the moment Izuku got into the truck. Izuku had exhaled heavily through his mouth, his lungs tightening as if knives were stabbing into his chest.

“W-What?”

“I think it’s what’s best for us,” the man reasoned. “I’m tired of always having the same misunderstandings. With an open relationship, you’d have more freedom, and so would I, don’t you think, Izuku?”

Freedom?

Freedom for what, exactly? Izuku wanted to ask, but he swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to think clearly.

“So,” he swallowed dryly, turning to look at the black-haired man with eyes dangerously close to tearing up. “What you’re really saying is that you want to fuck other people and not have to explain yourself.”

Haitani rolled his eyes, running a hand through his hair with a tired expression. “That’s not it, Izuku. Be rational for once. I’m trying to make things easier for both of us.” Then he grabbed Izuku’s wrist, forcing him to turn and look at him. “It’s either this or we break up.”

Izuku felt his blood turn to ice.

“I-I… I don’t want to break up…”

The rest had been just another meaningless argument, ending once again with Izuku breaking himself apart to understand the reasons behind the other’s actions. But there was nothing left to do—Izuku was used to it. It was a cycle that repeated over and over because he didn’t have the courage to leave someone who was destroying him bit by bit. Izuku hated himself for it, but he couldn’t hate Haitani. He loved him too much to even imagine a future where he wasn’t there.

His relationship with Haitani had been turbulent from the start. Izuku had met him when he was fifteen, at an American football game he had attended at the invitation of Uraraka’s older brother, who had just started university at the time. The sports teams at the University of Tokyo were famous for having some of the best players in the country, and Uraraka’s brother had earned an athletic scholarship, similar to the one Izuku had gotten for UA.

Unlike Haitani, whose wealthy parents had paid for the best schools to ensure he completed his studies.

So Izuku had immediately fallen for the dark-haired man, like the hormonal teenager he was, the moment he saw him step onto the field. And when Ochako’s brother introduced them, the interest seemed mutual, and they clicked instantly.

Blinded as he was, Izuku hadn't really paid much attention to the fact that Haitani was five years older than him and already an adult. And Haitani didn’t really care about those things. With his head in the clouds and tenderness pulsing through his veins, they soon found themselves wrapped in the sweet haze of young love, which led them to commit more reckless mistakes than sageness acts.

But the honeymoon phase faded quickly, and Izuku was left hanging from the ceiling lamp, clinging with trembling fingers and the last of his strength to the illusion of a love that had never been anything more than lies and deception from the start.

As time passed, things became darker and more twisted, and Izuku began to lose his shine. His mother noticed. His friends noticed. People noticed. His smiles were empty, the dark circles under his eyes grew deeper. The light in his room stayed on until dawn, he stopped answering texts and calls, and he barely ate more than two meals a day. But he had chosen where he wanted to be, and his friends respected that—except for Mina and Ochako, who could get pushy about it. Especially since Izuku had made it clear that he would forgive Haitani over and over and over again.

The green-haired boy hadn’t even realized he had started crying until his tears began to dampen his trembling hands resting on his lap.

“…Alright.”

Haitani sighed, as if he had been holding his breath for the entire ten minutes that Izuku had stayed silent. But also like he had just won the battle.

“Izuku, love, this is going to work,” Haitani turned in his seat and took Izuku’s shaky hands in his own, giving them a reassuring squeeze. But Izuku was far from feeling reassured in that situation. “I promise.”

“What are the conditions?” the boy asked, pulling his hands away to try and wipe the tears from his face, but the other was quicker, cupping his cheeks and holding him in place, pressing their foreheads together, his thumbs erasing the wet trails on his cheekbones. Izuku blinked, trying to clear the moisture from his lashes, and focused his gaze on the window, avoiding looking at the man who was now smiling at him like he had just given him the best news in the world.

“The usual, Izuku. We can go out with other people,” the dark-haired man held his chin and chased his gaze until Izuku had no choice but to look him in the eye, overwhelmed. Haitani’s gaze darkened dangerously with a violence that froze Izuku to his very core.

“But you’ll still be mine.”

Then, he pressed a wet kiss against his lips.

Izuku gasped against him, the salty taste of his tears slipping onto his tongue for a moment before the man pulled away carelessly and quickly glanced at the rearview mirror.

“I’m glad we could talk things through, love,” he stated while Izuku desperately tried to fix the mess on his face. But there was no way Mina and Ochako wouldn’t notice the swelling in his eyes when he saw them half an hour later. “Now I have to go.”

Izuku nodded, as always, understanding Haitani’s terms above his own needs. He ran a hand through his hair and adjusted his coat.

“Alright, Haitani,” he gave him one last look full of uncertainty. “See you tonight?”

The other simply shrugged and unlocked the doors in a silent cue for Izuku that it was time for him to get out of the car.

“I don’t know. It’s a high schoolers party, and I have better things to do.”

Izuku nodded once more and leaned in to kiss his cheek before stepping out of the car in complete silence.

Once outside, the poor boy could only watch as his boyfriend started the truck and drove off down the avenue without looking back. That was the man he would walk through fire for.

He had no idea how to deal with the overwhelming emptiness settling in his chest, growing rapidly with every passing second.

It was as if every time he and Haitani met, the older man took a figurative ladle and carved another hole in his heart—a heart that was struggling more and more to keep beating. Just now, Haitani had taken his vital organ in a grip so tight that it threatened to leave him frozen in the middle of a painful breath.

He had nothing, yet he felt everything.

His eyes welled up again as he stared down at his shoes, but he quickly wiped them away with the palms of his hands and started walking down the sidewalk in the direction of Ochako’s house.

He tried to make sense of it all as thousands of thoughts raced through his mind at the speed of a subway train. Why would Haitani do this? What did he want from other people that Izuku hadn’t already given him? Was it not enough?

Was he not enough?

***

When Mina opened the door, the first thing she said was, “Oh my God, Ochako, get down right now!”

Then she pulled him into her arms, pressing his face against her chest as if she wanted to shield him from the world. She slammed the door shut, and Izuku heard hurried footsteps upstairs, then on the staircase. Ochako.

“What the— Oh no.”

“I’m going to destroy that bastard,” Mina spat through gritted teeth.

He knew he looked like crap. Swollen, trembling, weak. That’s exactly what he was. A weak little kid. A sob made him shudder in his friend’s arms, and soon he felt Ochako wrap herself around both of them, her warm hands stroking his hair like a sister would.

“Oh, Izuku,” she whispered into his ear, squeezing him tightly in her embrace. “What happened?”

He responded with a muffled whimper against Mina’s chest, and realizing his friends probably hadn’t understood, he turned his face slightly until his mouth was free and his cheek rested against her shoulder. He sighed. Thick, heavy tears spilling from his tired eyes.

“You won’t believe it,” he said with a bitter laugh.

The girls exchanged a worried glance.

Izuku slowly pulled away from the hug and wiped his face with the collar of his coat. Only then did he notice that both girls had curling rollers in their hair and under-eye masks on. A barely-there smile slipped from his lips.

The truth was, he had no idea how to put into words what Haitani had told him. It embarrassed him so much it made him nauseous. He felt dirty, sick in the head for letting himself be used whenever it pleased him. But it is what it is. He wouldn’t say too much, or he’d risk Mina giving him her usual heavy look of disapproval and Ochako her always-uncomfortable look of pity.

Ochako gently took his hand and led him to the couch, where the three of them sat, and he finally managed to calm down a little. She handed him a glass of water, which he drank in one go before dropping the bomb, unable to hold it in for even a moment longer.

“…Haitani and I officially have an open relationship.” The green-haired boy toyed with the glass in his hands, keeping his gaze fixed on the rug where Ochako’s dog happily rolled onto his back.

He knew what to expect from Ochako. Understanding. Support. Words of comfort and reassurance. But Mina? He knew Mina would tell him some hard truths—maybe with a note of anger, maybe with a note of concern—but Izuku was not in the mood to hear it. He sighed, bracing himself for what was coming, and stood up, pacing the room anxiously.

“Before you say anything,” he added quickly, tugging at his bangs in frustration. His eyes felt so swollen he could barely open them all the way. “It was a mutual decision.”

Liar.

Three times a liar.

Mina stared at him blankly. Ochako frowned with that worried expression he often saw on his mother’s face.

“A… mutual decision… you say,” the brunette murmured.

He nodded with as much conviction as he could muster and opened his mouth to speak, but Mina cut him off. “And how exactly did you two come to that conclusion?”

Izuku swallowed hard.

“We… we talked about how difficult it was becoming to maintain the relationship w-with all the p-problems we’ve been having lately,” he said, setting the glass back on the coffee table. “Especially with Haitani messing around with other people, so we decided to try, uh, well, this.”

“And why did you show up here crying five minutes ago?” she pressed, and Izuku finally decided he didn’t have to put up with people prying into his business. He adored Mina, but whenever the topic of Haitani came up, the pink-haired girl could be a real pain. Not even his mother meddled this much.

“We had a fight. And yes, I’m telling you again, it was a decision we both made,” he said with a serious face, mirroring her. She seemed to get the hint because she just clicked her tongue and crossed her arms. “We settled the issue from before the holidays, and now we’re trying new things. That’s all.”

“Fine.”

Ochako shifted uncomfortably in her seat, shrinking under the sudden tension in the room. Honestly, she still wondered how Mina and Izuku could go from showing each other absolute love to clawing each other’s faces off in three seconds.

Maybe it had something to do with their astrological charts or some shit like that.

“…I think that if this was a decision you both made, then what matters is that you feel okay with it, Izuku.” Ochako stood up and hesitantly approached the boy, who looked tense under the chandelier’s light. She slowly took his hand until she could wrap her arms around him, resting her head on his shoulder, secretly fearing he’d push her away. But Izuku seemed to relax slightly under her touch. The brunette looked between her friends and sighed, reaching out to Mina, who was still on the couch, and pouted at her. “And you know we’ll always be here for you—come on, stop fighting,” she stretched over the table, still holding Izuku, until she managed to grab Mina’s hand and tugged at her until the other girl reluctantly stood up. “You two make me feel like a kid with divorced parents,” she complained, pulling them into a group hug.

Mina rolled her eyes. “Tell that to this bitch.”

“I’m going to rip those curlers off—” Izuku started.

“Enough!” Ochako tugged at both their ears, making them yelp and rub the sore spots. They stayed silent for a few minutes until Mina broke the silence.

“She’s right, Izuku,” she said, taking his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “We really are here for you, always, even if you make decisions with your ass and have the worst taste in men out of all three of us.”

The boy laughed and pulled them both into a bear hug, making them groan playfully. Mina was the first to pull away, dragging both of them upstairs, chuckling like a kid who had just pulled off a prank.

“Come on, it’s time to get dressed to impress,” she paused for a moment to glance out the living room window and frowned with dissatisfaction, lips pouting. “I really hope it doesn’t rain because I worked way too hard on your outfits,” she finished, leading them toward Ochako’s room on the first floor.

Ochako’s room was an eighth wonder for an eight-year-old girl obsessed with ponies and Disney princesses. It was ridiculously spacious—being her father’s favorite had its perks—with a massive window draped in double curtains that flowed to the floor and a canopy bed with a thick pink veil cascading gracefully down. She had an entire wall of shelves filled with books, which Izuku was sure she had actually read throughout her life, and on the opposite wall, a closet worthy of Hannah Montana. There were more shelves with dolls and collectible toys still in their boxes, and a board full of pictures of her friends and family. Her bed was covered in stuffed animals, and she even had her own bathroom and a treadmill in the corner.

It was like being Barbie, but brunette and twenty centimeters shorter.

“Ochako already tried on her outfit and is 100% on board with the level of hotness we’re serving tonight,” Mina said, stepping ahead to grab one of the three outfits laid out on the bed and turning to Izuku, who stood in the middle of the room taking off his coat. Mina held up a short Chinese-style dress, made of bright red fabric with gold embroidery and a diagonal set of buttons along the square neckline. Izuku swore if it covered more than two fingers below his butt, it’d be a miracle. She held it out, practically buzzing with excitement.

“Try it on. I know we’re almost the same size, but I need to see how it fits in case I need to make any adjustments.”

“You don’t actually expect me to wear this without something underneath,” he said with a blank stare.

“Your underwear will work as shorts for a girl.”

He gawked at her.

“Don’t be dramatic, diva. Just try it on.”

"I’m not wearing this with just my boxers underneath," he repeated.

Ochako ran to her closet, rummaged through one of her drawers for a minute, and then returned with a piece of lycra fabric. "Here, Izuku, these are my training shorts. They’ll do."

Izuku nodded, took the clothing, and turned to look at the outfits laid out on the bed.

"What are you two wearing, anyway? Are you going half-naked too, or is this just about exposing me?"

"Are you kidding? This is THE party of the year. Our last year. Of course, we’re going half-naked," Ochako said, grabbing her outfit from the bed and holding it up for Izuku to see. A very short gray plaid skirt and a strapless black top, paired with a rather chic belt and a heart-shaped neckline right in the middle of the breast. Next to the bed sat a pair of Bratz-style platform boots, completing the very 2000s look. To his right, Mina lifted her outfit—flared leather pants and a deep-cut animal print top held together by just a couple of chains across the chest.

Izuku bit his lip, the corner of his mouth curling into an amused smirk. "You two really are going all or nothing."

"Hey, I don’t know about you, but I need to catch something tonight," Uraraka said, sitting at her vanity, checking something on her phone while sipping her iced coffee.

Mina let out a laugh. "Don’t look at me! You know I only dress up for one man."

Izuku sighed, which made both girls turn their attention to him. Mina was sitting on the bed, cutting small strips of special nipple covers. Ochako hesitated before asking, "Is Haitani not coming?"

The boy tucked his bangs behind his ear and shrugged, visibly uncomfortable. "He said he wasn’t sure, had some assignments to catch up on."

"Oh."

He felt a little bad about lying to his friends, but then again, when it came to Haitani, everything seemed to come with conditions and exceptions. UA parties were famous across Tokyo for their wildness, attracting people from other schools and even some universities. But Izuku wasn’t about to tell his friends that his boyfriend had spoken dismissively about his entire class. Or, for that matter, that Haitani never invited him to UT parties, whereas Izuku always made sure to invite him—not just to UA parties but also to his dance competitions. Not that the guy ever showed up, anyway.

"Well, screw him. It’s not like you can’t have some fun now that you’ve got that whole open relationship thing going on," Mina said, rolling her eyes.

A sharp pain stabbed his chest. Right. The open relationship. He had almost forgotten about that. Almost.

He started undressing to try on the dress.

The truth was, Izuku never really considered himself strictly a "guy." Sometimes, he felt like the closest label was non-binary, but in the end, he always got too confused with all the labels that existed nowadays. Labeling himself felt like an open invitation for misunderstandings or getting it wrong, and in an era where everyone got offended so easily, that was a double-edged sword. So he just wore whatever he liked, whatever looked good on him, and whatever he could afford.

Outside, the sky was turning a deep purple-gray as night settled in, and the clock on Ochako’s wall showed past six in the evening when she asked if they wanted to order pizza for dinner. They both immediately said yes. The last thing they wanted was to get wasted on an empty stomach.

Half an hour later, Ochako’s shuffled playlist had them nodding along to the beat while she painted her nails, Mina blended her eyeshadow, and Izuku nibbled on a slice of pizza, checking himself out in the full-length mirror.

Izuku didn’t think of himself as unattractive. He knew he wasn’t bad-looking, especially since hitting puberty. Thanks to the blessings of dance, he had a well-toned, athletic body with the right curves and contours.

Haitani always liked his body and made sure to tell him so regularly, which made Izuku hyper-aware of his physique. That, and the fact that he was so focused on pursuing a professional dance career, meant he couldn’t afford any drastic weight changes. So he was constantly dieting, drinking water, and even though he sometimes went a little overboard with drinking, he made up for it by skipping a few meals. Not that anyone needed to know that. Especially not his mom.

He grabbed his ass with one hand, his red-painted nails sinking into the flesh as he thought.

Maybe hooking up with someone tonight wasn’t such a bad idea to get his mind off the whole Haitani mess?

He wasn’t sure if that would end well.

He’d think about it after a drink or two.

"Izuku, come here," Ochako called from her vanity, rummaging through her makeup bag before waving an eyeliner at him. "We’re doing your makeup."

Just like Mina was the fashion guru, Ochako was the makeup artist of the trio. It wasn’t that Izuku didn’t know how to do his own makeup, but his friends made his life so much easier. Plus, they clearly enjoyed using him as their life-sized personal doll, and he was more than happy to let them do as they pleased. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement.

He finished off his pizza in two bites and immediately moved to sit on the small stool in front of the vanity, where Mina had been before. He shot Ochako a look that practically screamed, I’d-trust-you-with-my-life, and fluttered his lashes dramatically.

"Make me yours," he said seductively, a playful smile dancing on his lips.

She smirked just as wickedly, biting the end of the eyeliner while staring at him in silence for several seconds. Izuku knew she was visualizing the final look in her head.

"I got it," she finally declared, barely containing her excitement, and he instantly shut his eyes as she leaned in and started working.

***

"I’m just saying—look, over there. No—left, yes, there."

Katsuki scratched the back of his neck, feeling uncomfortable and exposed without a coat in the cold suburban air of Tokyo.

"...I’m just saying that hey, I did an excellent job. You look hot." The guy blushed while turning the wheel to the left street; distorted music and noise started to be heard in the distance as he drove past the grand, elegant houses. "This must be where the president lives." His sister added, unbuckling her seatbelt. He only repressed a shiver that ran down his spine and glanced in the rearview mirror at his All Might sweatshirt, mocking him from the back seat.

The guy felt noticeably uncomfortable.

It was Saturday night, and he’d clearly rather be doing anything else than escorting his little sister to a place full of uncontrollable teenagers with psychoactive substances, but somehow Himiko had worked her father's soft spot, who had then convinced their mother, and then she’d forced him to get this result. And no matter how many excuses he had come up with (he even thought about faking an explosive diarrhea last minute), no one bought it.

To top it off, at the last minute, Himiko had forgotten her coat, and Katsuki had to give her his jacket, leaving him freezing because his sister had thought it was a great idea to dress him in a sleeveless shirt and ripped pants with the excuse that he would look incredibly attractive.

Oh, and she’d made him wear contact lenses.

Katsuki hated those damn contact lenses.

As soon as he spotted the house—huge and surrounded by cars in the front, with dozens of people chatting and walking around with cups in their hands and colorful lights escaping from the interior, the loud vibrations of the music shaking the windows—the blonde quickly looked for a place to park. He settled for parking several meters away and glanced at the watch on his wrist. It was 10:30 PM. While trying to calculate in his head when he should tell his sister to come back, by the time he looked up to check on her, the girl had already gotten out of the car, sneaky as a ninja. Katsuki hurried to get out, stumbling as a shoelace got caught in the car door, and he had to stop and free it before jogging to catch up with Himiko, who was already halfway from the car to the house.

"Hey—wait, Himiko!"

She waved her hand, signaling him to hurry.

"Hurry up, Katsuki!"

He grabbed her arm and gently turned her around a few steps before the entrance. He looked her in the eyes seriously, and she sighed, knowing what was coming.

"I'm not gonna do anything weird," she assured him. "Mom and dad already had this conversation with me."

"I know," he quickly added, "but I just want to remind you one more time." She rolled her eyes and looked at him without expression before letting go and cupping his face in her hands, staring at him intensely with those childlike eyes that sometimes made Katsuki feel like they were growing up too fast.

"I won’t do anything weird," she repeated. "But you should." She finished.

Katsuki blinked.

The next thing he knew, Himiko was pulling him inside the house, where he was greeted by a mix of smells, colors, and sounds that wrapped around him like the coat he had been longing to wear. The atmosphere was hot and humid, and the cold he had felt outside completely vanished, replaced by an internal warmth that soon made sweat form on his forehead. The strobe lights disoriented him a little, but after a few minutes, his vision adjusted, and he was able to take in the full dimensions of the lobby and what was going on in it.

There were bodies moving everywhere.

The lobby space and part of the living room functioned as a massive dance floor where a large number of people were moving to the rhythm of the music, and around the edges, people were chatting, holding drinks, a couple possibly making out against the wall, and others laughing, sitting on the floor or on the couch. Katsuki wondered how they could talk over all the noise, which felt like it was drilling into his head. Two large staircases led up to the first floor, but there were no people visible there, so the blonde assumed it was a restricted area. At his side, Himiko let go of his hand and patted him on the back like a mother sending her child off to school.

"I’ll see you later." She yelled in his ear, standing on tiptoe to reach him. He snapped out of it immediately and turned to look at her with wide eyes.

"What do you mean by ‘later’?" he shouted back, leaning over her, but the girl just shrugged and walked off. Katsuki turned his gaze back to the makeshift dance floor, scanning his surroundings for several minutes. He identified Kaminari and Jirou, probably, in a corner of the lobby on a platform with a mixer, apparently mixing and changing the music while shaking to the rhythm of Take It Off by Kesha. The blonde held his breath, his mind racing as his eyes moved from the dance floor to the mixer, to the lights, and back again.

The heat and the smell of cigarette smoke and beer were clouding his brain.

He was starting to feel dizzy.

He needed some water.

He made his way to what he assumed was the kitchen, taking hesitant steps between pushes from drunk people, and was pleasantly surprised when he found himself facing more people drinking and countless pizza boxes on the counter. It was a granite island that was way too big in a kitchen that was also way too big, just like everything else in the house, really. Katsuki couldn’t help but notice that the lobby was large enough to fit at least six cars, and the living room was no different. Now that he saw the kitchen, he confirmed just how spacious and large it was, with room for two double-door refrigerators, the island, and other appliances, not to mention the large pantry. It was at least three times the size of spaces in his own house.

A bit unsure of whether he was allowed to grab anything in someone else's house, but seeing that no one was really paying attention, the guy grabbed a red disposable cup and walked over to the refrigerator’s water dispenser. The place was dark, and the noise was still loud even in the kitchen, where the speakers were a bit farther away. He pushed the dispenser, his gaze lost between the walls of the space, and briefly stopped with embarrassment when he noticed a couple kissing passionately against the stove. Katsuki thought of at least five reasons why that was very dangerous. He returned his attention to his cup and lifted it to take a sip.

A bitter burn shot up his nose as he tried to breathe and cough at the same time, tasting the almost unrecognizable flavor of beer against his palate, and the memory of his childhood rushed back when his mother had made him try a sip when he was twelve because she thought it would be funny. His eyes filled with tears, and without meaning to, he spit the beer back into the cup. Who the hell fills the fridge dispenser with beer? He wiped his face with the neck of his shirt and stayed frozen halfway through his disgusted expression when a heavy thud hit his shoulder, making him stumble and spill most of the drink onto the floor and part of his shirt.

"Bakubro!" He recognized Kirishima’s shark-like grin in the dark, feeling the weight of his firm hand crushing his collarbone. Katsuki sighed, the tiredness of a 40-year-old and not an 18-year-old showing on his face as he turned to see him and massaged the bridge of his nose almost painfully. He could see the youthful sparkle in the redhead's eyes, which easily told him that Kirishima was a bit tipsy. Suddenly, Mina appeared with a leap from the side of the guy and hooked her arm around both of theirs with a big smile and a body vibrating with excitement.

"Bakugou!" she screamed enthusiastically.

Katsuki tried to hide the anxious tremor in his hand holding the beer as he felt the soft surface of the girl’s breast pressing against his arm, blood rushing to his face so quickly that he was sure it was as red as Kirishima's hair.

"H-H-Hey, hi," was all he could manage to say, in shock. Kirishima dropped his hand back onto his shoulder, and Mina let out an even louder laugh than the noise around them.

"I’m so glad you’re here, man," Kirishima said, slinging his arm around his shoulders and leaning in to open the fridge, taking a beer can, opening it with one hand, and after finishing it in one long, noisy gulp, crushing and tossing it into the trash. "We were starting to think you wouldn’t come. We’ve been looking for you."

Katsuki couldn’t imagine why.

"Right," Mina confirmed, leaning toward the blonde’s cup to see what he was drinking. "It’s still early, so we’re just chatting and drinking a little to get warmed up. What are you drinking?" The pink-haired girl gave him a suspicious look and placed a hand on her chest with mock shock. "Not tequila I hope."

"No—" The guy turned to dump the contents of his cup into the sink. "I don’t drink."

Mina looked at him expressionlessly. Kirishima patted his chest with camaraderie.

"Man, that’s so manly."

Suddenly, Todoroki appeared with a bag of chips in hand from the hallway leading to the kitchen. He wore loose pants and an oversized shirt, all comfortably paired with Converse and a black beanie. It couldn’t be said that the guy totally fit in with the vibe, but he didn’t look out of place either. He had a refreshing relaxed style that caught Katsuki’s attention.

"Momo’s outside looking for you guys because she’s got liquor-filled chocolates for us," Shouto said with his usual blank face, eating a snack in the process. Mina immediately jumped up and grabbed the three boys' hands, pulling them out of the kitchen. Katsuki inwardly lamented, saying goodbye to that glass of water that he clearly hadn’t gotten a chance to drink.

"Better hurry up! Yaomomo told me about those chocolates; they’re like, super expensive. Her parents brought them from Europe on their last trip, and I’m dying to try them," the girl urged, as she pulled all four of them into the cold night air.

Outside, the music was slightly muffled, and the temperature had dropped several degrees in Celsius scale. It was the backyard of the house, which, like everything else, extended several meters around; there were various trees and shrubs, as well as a stone fountain and beach tables. There was also a covered pool that was currently wrapped in plastic, which no one seemed to pay attention to since the weather was so cold. Unlike the people inside the house, many of those outside wore coats or rubbed their arms looking for a little of warmth. A bonfire was blazing, and several people gathered around it, chatting and laughing.

Once there, Katsuki could spot several familiar faces.

Shinsou was the first to notice them. He waved a hand friendly and smiled while nibbling on his drink. He looked casual, wearing straight pants, a hoodie, and a denim jacket. Next to him were Iida and Tsuyu, chatting. They looked good. Maybe Iida was a bit too formal for a party, but it didn’t matter. And Momo, in a long skirt and a simple t-shirt, made it look exceptionally cute. She had Jirou’s head resting in her lap as Jirou laughed out loud, holding a box of chocolates.

Katsuki couldn't keep checking out the others' outfits (not that he knew much about fashion, but it was entertaining, a habit he’d picked up from Himiko) because his eyes inevitably shifted toward a figure approaching confidently from the back door and walking along the edge of the pool to join the bonfire circle.

It was Midoriya, carrying a bunch of beer cans in his arms.

"Now you stupid alcoholics, this is the last time I’m getting drinks for you."

It was Midoriya in a crimson mini dress, combat boots, and a bunch of bracelets.

Katsuki felt his throat dry up.

"Come on, don’t be like that, princess," a guy Katsuki didn’t recognize, sitting between Todoroki and Kaminari, said to the green-haired guy, winking at him with a knowing smile, signaling him to sit on his lap. The boy simply rolled his eyes while handing out beer cans to everyone until his gaze suddenly landed on Katsuki, who had been standing by observing the scene from afar, even though Mina, Todoroki, and Kirishima had already sat down.

"Kacchan!" Midoriya exclaimed that strange nickname again with a bright smile, and Katsuki couldn’t help but blush. "Come on, sit down!" The guy felt like a dog, but he wasn’t embarrassed to admit that Midoriya’s voice had been like a command because he did it immediately. Midoriya handed him a beer. He hesitated but decided to just leave it there.

Kirishima eyed him with doubt. "I thought you said you don’t—"

Mina nudged him in the ribs. "Leave him alone, Kiri, for god's sake." The guy just rubbed his sore ribs and began drinking his beer.

"I’m glad you could make it," Izuku said, sitting next to him, smiling again with dimples and crescent-shaped eyes and all. Katsuki noticed out of the corner of his eye that the unfamiliar guy raised an eyebrow at him, confused. "Did your sister come with you?"

Izuku opened his beer with a soft fizz and took a short sip, not breaking eye contact with him. The blonde placed his can between his knees, resting his elbows on them while scratching the back of his neck, searching for words to explain what he was about to say.

"Yeah well, uh, she’s the reason I came, actually."

Izuku’s eyes widened in surprise, then nodded in understanding. "So, she must be more of a party person than you."

Katsuki couldn’t suppress the small smile that slipped out, his gaze turning to the grass. "Yeah, totally."

Shinsou passed the chocolate box to Izuku, who took it and thanked him distractedly. The guy quickly read the information on the box and then popped a chocolate into his mouth, biting it with pearly teeth and red lips like cherries. The wine-colored filling spilled from the corner of his mouth, and he quickly caught it with his tongue. Katsuki wouldn’t have noticed that he’d been staring at him if it hadn’t been for the fact that the poor guy offered him the box with a curved smile and a soft hum.

"Want one, Kacchan?"

Katsuki nodded and ate two more, more to cover up his discomfort than for anything else.

Izuku put his hand over his mouth and chuckled quietly before saying, "Careful, Kacchan, they have a high alcohol content."

Katsuki thought it would be pretty hard to get drunk from just two chocolates, so he wasn’t worried. Anyway, he felt more curious about asking where that weird nickname came from.

"Midoriya—" the blonde began, running a hand through his hair.

"Izuku," the other guy interrupted. "Remember, Kacchan, it’s Izuku." Katsuki licked his lips and nodded. The chocolate had only made him thirstier, and the only thing nearby was alcohol. Damn it.

"Izuku," he said then. "Where does this 'Kacchan' thing come from?" The other boy finished the chocolate he had in his hand and sucked his fingers with delight; once again, Katsuki’s eyes wandered to the most inappropriate part of his face. Quickly, he forced himself to focus on other details of his face. That’s when he noticed the guy was wearing some kind of red eyeliner to match the fabric of his dress, and scattered around his face were tiny colorful stars that matched his freckles. Katsuki could only think the word adorable and decided not to question himself about it.

"It’s because of your name," Izuku confessed, lowering his face and playing with the edge of his dress over his thigh, fluttering his unusually long lashes. "Your name is Katsuki, right?"

The blonde blinked, as he always did when he was even a little perplexed.

"Yeah."

Then Izuku raised his gaze and looked at him with another charming smile.

"When Mina told us about you the first day, I thought of calling you by your last name. But I like to call my friends with familiarity. And Bakugou didn’t sound right to me." He added, taking another sip of his beer. "Your name sounded really nice to me, and then that really funny incident with the hot sauce happened, which I found hilarious, and I thought 'san' was too formal, 'kun' too common, and I don’t know, 'chan' just fit."

"I’ve barely heard people use honorifics here," the taller guy said, genuinely curious.

Izuku shook his head. "In Tokyo, people hardly use them, but sometimes they do. It’s a matter of taste. I know we’re not lifelong friends, but then I just had to put your name with 'chan,' and there you go. Cute, right?"

Katsuki almost bit his tongue but didn’t say anything about it.

The conversation continued at that pace for another long moment, though the blonde didn’t know if it had been minutes or perhaps closer to half an hour or an hour. He really hadn’t felt the time pass while talking to Izuku. The other guy, who had looked at him disapprovingly earlier, had at least twice tried to get Izuku’s attention, but the green-haired boy had just dismissed him with a gesture for more time, telling him to leave him be. Katsuki now knew that Izuku had a scholarship to study at UA and that he practiced ballet from Monday to Friday after six o'clock. He was an only child, a big fan of the All Might franchise, and his favorite food was katsudon.

Katuski was about to tell him that he could make him katsudon sometime, but before he could say anything, Uraraka’s voice reached him from the other side of the bonfire.

"Hey! Are we going to dance or what? I’m turning into a fossil here."

Izuku looked at her, a spark in his eyes. "Girl, I thought you’d never say it."

“These losers expect one to do it all,” the brunette continued as she stood up, extending one hand to Mina and the other to Shinsou, who seemed more tipsy than when Katsuki had first arrived at the bonfire. They had all been drinking nonstop since they sat down, except for him. Even Izuku had finished several cans of beer, and now the taller guy could catch the same playful glint in his eyes from when he’d met him in the cafeteria.

The rest of their friends stood up, except for Iida, Tsuyu, Momo, Jirou, and Katsuki himself. The others didn’t seem surprised by this.

“We’ll be back in a while when Mirio gets wild with beer pong,” Shinsou announced, wrapping his arms around Kaminari’s neck, who immediately wrapped his arm around his waist and pulled him closer in a possessive way, which made Katsuki turn his gaze in another direction, feeling like he was witnessing something too intimate.

Izuku beside him seemed to notice his discomfort and surprise. He leaned in and whispered in his ear, “A bit uneven, but they’ve been a thing since last year. They don’t seem to hang out together much, unless they’re a little tipsy, like now.” Izuku straightened up and gave Katsuki a playful, teasing look, who was trying to hide his blush unsuccessfully, before offering his hand for him to take. “Come on, Kacchan, let’s dance.”

Katsuki did everything he could not to look at the exposed skin of Izuku's legs, which seemed to be almost right under his nose. He blinked, looking at his face, then at his hand, and then his face, and back to his hand again.

“I-I- I don’t dance, Izuku.”

“Nonsense,” Izuku said impatiently.

“No- really- I don’t know how.”

Izuku rolled his eyes, crouched down to take his hand, and yanked him up with so much force that it left Katsuki surprised.

“Then you’ll dance with me.”

That other guy appeared from behind Izuku and grabbed his arm, making him turn toward him with a frown on his face.

“What do you mean, you’ll dance with him?” he spat, clearly demanding an explanation. The green-haired guy let go of him and placed a reassuring hand on his chest. The guy looked rough, with tattoos all over his arms and piercings in his ears, barely dressed in a t-shirt and a pair of black jeans, his head shaved almost completely.

“I mean exactly that, Kotaro. I’ll dance with you later. While dance with someone else.” Izuku cut him off with a pat on his jaw, pretending to show affection but trying to downplay the situation. Kotaro clicked his tongue and turned away, muttering under his breath.

Without saying another word, Izuku grabbed Katsuki by the wrist and followed the rest of their friends to the dance floor.

Inside, the heat began to suffocate him again like slippery, bare hands holding him by the throat, and the thirst he’d forgotten about returned with that dry, heavy feeling in his mouth.

He managed to catch out of the corner of his eye that his friends were getting lost in the crowd, each in their own world; some in pairs, others in groups, some alone, hoping to find a dancing partner among the vibrating, mysterious bodies. A slight pull on his wrist made him look down, where Izuku was smiling at him and guiding him to the dance floor, his steps already moving to the beat of a song he didn’t recognize.

As they ventured deeper into the crowd, the heat that he already felt intensified until it felt like he was breathing fire. Then Izuku let go of him to raise his arms in a jubilant expression as he moved his head to the rhythm of the music and swayed his body like a snake.

Katsuki could only stay frozen, his hands open as if expecting to mold into something in front of him, stiff as a rock, colliding with sweaty bodies and Izuku.

I, I, I wanna feel, feel, feel

Wanna taste, taste, taste

Wanna get you goin’

But the other boy seemed like a fish in water, completely in his element, finding such natural and comfortable ways to move, despite being squeezed between so many people that Katsuki was about to have a panic attack. The music made his eardrums vibrate to the same rhythm that Izuku’s hips, sliding down to the floor with serpentine moves, then jumping up, surrendering to the cadence, his eyes closed, letting himself go.

Baby, don't be scared, want you everywhere

Catch you if you fall, I mean it

Katsuki’s heart raced in his chest with each beat that echoed on the marble floor and bounced off the walls. The people around them seemed to move with increasing energy, making him crash harder between skin and bones. It only took seconds for his burning body to end up so close to Izuku's that his mind started to darken with a fog so thick and heavy he couldn’t name it.

His hands, which until then had seemed to seek something to hold onto, trembled slightly around the outline of the guy’s figure, too afraid to touch him.

Suddenly, the guy captured his gaze from below and looked at him with those large doll-like eyes, moving his lips and whispering every word of the song.

Closer I get

Can you resist? I

t's relentless

It's why

Then Izuku took his hands and placed them on his hips, maybe a little too low on his hips, and Katsuki, who was already stiff as a stick, felt suffocated in his head and other parts of his body where he hadn’t felt such heat in a long time. The green-haired boy wrapped his arms around his neck, and when Katsuki tried to discreetly pull away from the uncomfortable position, the boy shot him a fierce look, warning him of bad things if he dared let go.

Then he traced his jaw with his index finger, whispering.

I wanna make you mine

Something in Katsuki’s brain short-circuited in less than a second. It was like feeling the synapses of all his neurons at once, sparking and activating with the power of a single thought that simultaneously covered too many things. Heat. Thirst. Water. Skin. Izuku. Katsuki had never danced at a party. Let alone been this close to someone. The sensations were so new that they left him paralyzed, and he was sure he looked like an idiot in the other guy's eyes, but he’d rather that than start moving and make a fool of himself. His discomfort started to grow when the shorter boy began laughing loudly, and he also started noticing that people around them were staring at them in confusion. Izuku rose on the tips of his toes to shout in his ear, “Relax, Kacchan!”

It wasn’t until that moment that he realized he had been holding the guy too tightly. But Izuku didn’t seem upset or bothered by it, more like a little concerned that Katsuki was about to vomit.

The blonde decided that, for now, this was too much for him.

Maybe he was autistic.

He forced himself to let go of the other guy, a strange tingling feeling buzzing in the palms of his hands as he did, and he leaned down to whisper in his ear just as the song was ending, “I’ll go get some water!”

And just as that guy Kotaro appeared on the scene, all of his intense presence leaning all over Izuku, who at that moment was looking at Katsuki with a questioning expression, little of his attention directed at the guy behind him.

"Are you okay, Kacchan?" Izuku asked as he watched him walk off through the crowd, but the blonde didn't have a chance to respond before a new song began, the usual deafening sound blasting through the speakers. Katsuki stepped away from the dance floor until he could slide out of the infernal chaos that was starting to mess with his judgment, and as he made his way toward the kitchen, he shot one last glance at Izuku, who was still looking at him until Kotaro made him turn his attention back to him.

Then the guy turned his face and planted a kiss on him, almost like he wanted to suck his face off, hands all over him like he was a piece of meat, so confidently that Katsuki almost felt envious of the familiarity and naturalness of the gesture. Izuku didn’t pull away. God, sometimes he hated being so introverted.

With a defeated sigh, he turned around and entered the kitchen. This time, he opened the fridge to see if there was anything besides beer inside, but he found nothing but that and a few sodas. He figured a Coke would do, so he grabbed one and took a long sip before heading back outside in search of fresh air.

Outside, the bonfire was still burning, and the space they had left when they got up to dance had already been filled by new people; although Tsuyu and Iida weren’t anywhere in sight, Momo and Jirou were still there, chatting animatedly, beers in hand. Jirou was showing something on her phone to the dark-haired girl, and she was laughing, her hand over her mouth. A little farther off on the grass, a funny-faced blonde guy and someone he immediately recognized (Tetsutetsu) were taking out folding plastic tables and other odd things from inside the house.

He took another sip of his Coke and scratched the back of his neck. Now that he thought about it, it had been about two hours or more since he last saw Himiko.

He took his phone out of his pocket and sent her a message.

Older brother: Himiko

Older brother: where are you?

He waited two minutes, watching the screen, but even though his message was marked as delivered, it didn’t seem like Himiko had even read it yet. He checked the time.

12:45 am.

Was 1 am too early to think about going home?

He couldn’t say he had had a horrible time, because that would be a lie. He had chatted, even laughed a little, and well, he had danced (sort of). He was sure Himiko had had a better time than him, but a couple of hours should be enough to relax and have a good time, right? Couldn’t they go home now? Would Himiko be okay with going home now?

Why had his parents given him the freedom to choose when to return, anyway? He was barely 18, and the poor girl knew how to be persuasive. A voice calling him from his side distracted him from his thoughts.

"Bakugou-san," Momo called, offering him a kind smile from her spot on the grass. "Didn't you go to dance?"

The guy raised a hand in a negative gesture. "I just went with Midori- Izuku for a moment, but it’s really not my thing."

She nodded. Jirou looked at him with amusement and put her phone in her pocket, resting her chin on Momo’s shoulder while giving him a sleepy-eyed look. "You don't seem like the dancing type, especially not with Midoriya."

Katsuki wanted to ask her what she meant, but deep down, he already felt like he knew. He nodded. "Why did you two stay here?" he asked, genuinely curious. Jirou shrugged.

"'M dizzy and don't really like dancing." Then the guy turned his gaze to the other girl, waiting for her response. She smiled shyly.

"I like looking after Kyouka-chan."

He simply nodded and thought that maybe he could sit with them and hang out while he waited for Himiko to show up. Honestly, the idea of going back into the house with all that human heat and people rubbing against his body without consent didn’t seem attractive to him at all, so he’d wait until Himiko appeared in his line of sight at some point during the night. She had to do it, right? Logically, it was impossible for his sister to not come out to the yard at all during the night. It couldn’t take too long for that to happen.

However, just as he was about to leave his half-full bottle of Coke on the grass and lean down to sit next to Momo, he stopped mid-motion when he heard a loud shout echo through the whole garden.

"Alright!" It was the funny-faced blonde guy standing on the fountain in the middle of Momo's garden. "You better not be too drunk, you damn face of my ass, because this is just starting!," the guy grabbed a can of beer another guy was handing him from below, opened it, and violently chugged it down. "And as the former captain of the UA MMA’s club, I command all you shits to report here immediately so we can start the Alcohollympics!"

Party Rock Anthem began blasting through the speakers from inside the house.

With that, the guy finished the can and threw it carelessly, directly at the guy who had offered it to him, who seemed to take the hit like it was some kind of favor. Excited screams erupted as people began running and stumbling out from inside to gather around the tables.

Katsuki barely noticed someone grabbing his arm and pulling him toward the little crowd.

"Run, Bakubro!"

What the fuck?

Kirishima was dragging him by the arm, running until they reached one end of the table where Kaminari and Tetsutetsu were already setting up a bunch of cups in a triangular shape. On the other side, other people Katsuki didn’t recognize were doing the same. Kaminari handed him a ping pong ball. It wasn’t until then that Katsuki noticed Kirishima was shirtless.

"What- what is this?" he asked, sounding like an idiot, because he had seen movies and actually knew what this was.

"The question is, Bakugou, do you have good aim?" A female voice asked from behind, and he turned to see Hatsume, Ojiro, and Sato arriving, each with a six-pack of beers. Soon, Sero (whom he hadn’t seen all night) and Kendo joined them.

"I’m not sure," he told the girl, watching them fill the cups halfway. She looked at him, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, you better be, because we’re not losing to those cocky old idiots from the UT."

Katsuki looked around, seeing that other tables were also setting up cups to play beer pong, and at others, they were starting different kinds of games. He was starting to get nervous. He didn’t drink. He had never drank in his life. He’d told Kirishima and Mina a few hours ago, but now somehow, he found himself dragged into this mess and didn’t know how to get out of it. All he had to do was say he didn’t want to play, right? It wasn’t that hard. He opened his mouth, ready to make an excuse and go find Himiko—

“We’re ready, you lazy asses,”

A guy with a sturdy build, wearing a UT bomber jacket, said from the other side of the table, holding his own ping pong ball, which he immediately threw and gracefully landed in a cup right in the center.

The guy smiled smugly, and the others froze for a moment.

“Well, is anyone going to drink or what?” the guy pressed.

On the other side, Hatsume gave Katsuki a rough push, and he stared at her, his eyes about to pop out of their sockets. She shrugged, took the ball from the cup, and offered it to him, tucking a strand of pink hair behind her ear. “What? You have the ball. Just drink and throw.”

She shoved the cup against his chest. Katsuki had no choice but to grab it.

He stared at it, uncertain.

He knew he wouldn’t especially enjoy the taste, and on top of that, he had no idea what his alcohol tolerance was. Probably low, considering he’d never been exposed to drinking. Doing some mental calculations, there were about eight people on their team. There were at least twenty-five cups on the table (it was a big damn table), and if they all got through it, there was a chance he might only have to drink two or three cups, which probably wouldn’t be enough to get him drunk. He’d get dizzy, maybe, but that was it. He’d still be able to safely make it home. No need to worry. And it was already too late to back out of the game without looking like a coward.

“Hey man, I don’t have all night.”

Katsuki downed the entire cup in one gulp.

Again, that bitter taste invaded his mouth, and he instinctively wanted to spit it out, but he managed to swallow before the urge to gag overtook him. However, he couldn’t hide the grimace that he knew had formed on his face. He squeezed his eyes shut and wiped his lips with his forearm, trying to get through the unpleasant moment.

“Dude, did you drink shit or something?” The guy from the other team mocked, but he paid little attention as he threw the ball, not waiting to see if it landed in a cup before moving aside to let Kirishima take his place.

He didn’t know how much time passed between that round and the next, but it turned out that even in a simple game like beer pong, you could either be incredibly bad or incredibly good. It turned out the other team had only two cups left, while they still had about eight, and they’d already played two rounds because the other team hadn’t accepted their first defeat, so it was now two out of three. Katsuki didn’t know how they managed it, but apparently, they had better aim than they’d imagined. They just needed to win this last one to finish. Katsuki admitted that he had a pretty strong competitive streak, so knowing they were about to win excited him to the point where the slight dizziness in his head actually felt nice. In the end, he’d ended up drinking more than he’d planned, and now everything was starting to blur a little.

Kaminari hit the second-to-last cup on the other team’s side and punched the air victoriously. A small crowd had gathered around them to watch the final battle, and at some point, fucking Mineta had started doing commentary.

“And there goes the second-to-last cup for UT, folks, from Denki Kaminari, the lion of UA!” Cheers erupted. “It seems like going to college takes away youth and aim.”

“Shut up, you little shit,” the guy who had to drink snapped.

Katsuki replaced Kaminari at the front, who handed him the ball.

“Finish it, Arnold.” Katsuki rolled his eyes.

When there was only one target left, things got a bit more difficult. The target was smaller, and Katsuki was getting dizzy, but not enough to lose his fine motor skills. He ran a hand over his face and slightly crouched, getting into a position that he felt would give him more stability, closed one eye, and stuck his tongue out in a pure moment of concentration, which, to everyone else, looked funny, but to him, it meant everything. He adjusted the ball in his line of sight and threw it.

A second later, the ball floated into the last cup on UT’s side.

The crowd’s cheers were immediate, especially from the UA students.

Kirishima and Kaminari both grabbed his face at the same time, looking at him as if he had just done the best thing in their lives, jumping and screaming with the excitement of drugged-up mice. Maybe because they were drunk off their asses.

“That was Bakugou Katsuki, the new gem of UA, class 3-A!! Crushing UT in beer pong!!” Mineta shouted at the top of his lungs.

Katsuki felt multiple hands reach for his hair and mess it up in a friendly way. In other times, he would’ve been annoyed by the gesture, but right then, he found it pleasant.

When he opened his eyes, his friends were laughing hysterically and doing funny victory dances.

“Damn, Bakugou!” Sero exclaimed with a grin so big he thought it might fall off his face, barely holding back his laughter. “Man, what aim.”

“Yeah, man!” Kendo agreed, “Now let’s play something that involves moving so I can sweat out all the alcohol I drank or I’ll be puking in the next hour.”

“I approve of that.” Ojiro agreed.

Suddenly, from between Kirishima and Kaminari, a messy blonde head emerged with a big smile and arms wide open, ready to wrap him in a hug that knocked him off balance.

“Brother!”

Suddenly, Katsuki remembered that, in all this time, he hadn’t seen Himiko pass by his sight even once. Until now.

He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her slightly off the ground when she bent her knees and hung onto his neck, all smiles and blushing cheeks.

“You were awesome!” She praised while letting go of him and standing back on the ground. She took him by the shoulders and looked him in the eyes as if he were the most interesting and fun thing to watch. “Are you drunk?”

He blinked.

“N-no,” he said, but he was sure that this time, his stuttering was because of the heaviness in his tongue, not his shyness. “Well, m-maybe a little dizzy.”

She waved her hand nonchalantly. “We’ll see how we get home.”

“We should—” he cleared his throat, frowning as he straightened himself out. “I can drive. We should leave now.”

She glanced at her watch. It was 1:30 AM.

“I have to say goodbye to someone, okay? Let me do that, and we’ll go. You drink some water, and I’ll meet you in the car in twenty. Is that okay?” Katsuki thought it was a good idea.

“Alright.”

Himiko patted his cheek affectionately and turned to go where she had come from, giving a quick and friendly wave to her friends. Kaminari immediately looked at him with wide eyes.

“I thought little Himiko-chan hadn’t come.”

“Well, now you see she did.” He answered, massaging his temple and starting to walk toward the house’s interior. “I need water. I’m going to the kitchen.”

“Come back soon so we can play dizzy bat!” Hatsume yelled, but he didn’t respond.

Inside, the people who had been scattered around the house earlier in the night seemed to be gathered around the dance floor now, as if watching something with shouts and jumps of excitement. There was an atmosphere of excitement even thicker than the one Katsuki remembered leaving an hour ago, and the colorful lights seemed to shine, illuminating in one direction. People danced, surrounding whatever was stealing the attention in the middle of the floor, and he, dizzy from the alcohol, decided he would push through the crowd to find out what was going on.

Behind him, he felt someone slip through the people too and turned to see Kirishima following him with a smile and a neon necklace around his neck. The intro to a song blared from the speakers.

It was Dirrty by Christina Aguilera.

Don’t ask him how he knew so much about songs that didn’t exactly fit his vibe—it was all Himiko’s fault.

When he managed to get to the front enough to see what was happening, it felt like his stomach did a flip inside his abdomen.

In the center were Mina, Uraraka, and Izuku performing a perfectly synchronized choreography to the rhythm of the music.

It was almost as if they were moving on strings, in sync with the song’s tempo and each other’s movements. Izuku was in the center, all the power in his thick, toned legs as he slid across the floor, seductively running his hand through his hair; his dress had hiked up almost to the middle of his ass, exposing the tiny shorts he was wearing underneath, which didn’t cover much. The sound of his combat boots, combined with Uraraka’s platform boots and Mina’s stiletto boots, echoed over the music with every dance step, revealing the passion with which they threw themselves into the choreography. The level of control over their bodies and faces was phenomenal, but honestly, Katsuki was mesmerized by Izuku. The way his body moved and the way he carried himself were captivating, enough to hypnotize him to the point that Katsuki didn’t even realize he was holding his breath.

There was something about Izuku that kept him from taking his eyes off him.

Like Icarus to the Sun.

Then their eyes met, olive green against amber red coming together in the dark, and Izuku smiled.

Katsuki felt a warmth on his head. Maybe it was the alcohol.

But then Izuku made a strange movement with his hips, and he had to rethink that thought.

"They're awesome, right?" Kirishima yelled in his ear with too much enthusiasm, his gaze almost sending out little hearts in Mina's direction. Katsuki could only nod in response and figured he should focus his gaze for a few seconds on Uraraka, just so he wouldn't seem like a fanboy of Izuku or a disrespectful teammate by staring at Mina. Uraraka was single, right?

Was Izuku?

He shoved that thought deep into his mind. It wasn’t any of his business.

A few seconds later, the song ended, and the crowd exploded into applause and cheers for the magnificent trio who had stolen the spotlight. Katsuki guessed it wasn’t their first time doing this, given that he heard exclamations like "They did it again!" and others like it, and when he saw the dance floor filling up again as a new song began, he also decided to head back to the kitchen.

Grabbing another Coke and sneaking all the way from the house, past the lobby, out the front door, through the huge front yard, and all the way to where he had left the car took him about ten minutes. To be honest, the dizziness from the alcohol had already faded to a barely noticeable nuisance in his head, and he now felt much more confident about taking Himiko home. Plus, now that he was about 80% sober, the sleepiness and fatigue from the night were hitting him at a dizzying speed, and now he wasn’t worried about the alcohol in his system, but the sleep that was starting to settle in. He got in the car, grabbed his hoodie from the backseat to put on, and played some music while waiting for his sister, who, according to his calculations, shouldn’t be more than 10 minutes away.

Dance Dance by Fall Out Boy started playing softly in the car, and he immediately began to hum along.

Yeah well, that was something he could actually dance to.

Himiko arrived shortly after, flushed, smiling, and with the mark of a kiss on her cheek.

"We can leave now, brother," she said, adjusting his jacket over her shoulder. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye as he started the car.

"Did you have fun?" he asked, genuinely interested. He had a good feeling this had been a pleasant night. For both of them.

"Better than fun," she answered immediately. "We should do this more often."

He smiled to himself, amused, but didn’t say anything as he drove into the busy main avenue, as if it were 4 p.m. After all, this was Tokyo.

Yeah, maybe they should do it more often.

Chapter Text

The first thing he thought the moment he regained consciousness was, honestly: damn it.

A relentless pounding had settled in the back of his brain, making him see trails of bright, colorful lights, like stars, which only worsened his headache.

He squeezed his eyes shut, his face twisted in pain, already knowing from the pale light filtering through the curtains and his eyelids that morning had arrived. He let out a sigh, puffing out his cheeks. Blindly, he grabbed a pillow that was somewhere on the bed and pressed it against his face. How could he have a hangover if he had only drunk a little?

He wanted to take a fork and stab it directly into his ear.

Idiot. Of course, even if you drank just a little, for you, that was a lot of alcohol.

He sighed again.

As he lay there like a vegetable, he debated whether the best course of action for this dreadful Sunday was to stay in bed and endure the horrible hangover, or get up, take a shower (he hadn’t checked if he smelled yet, but if he didn’t already, he probably would soon), maybe take some ibuprofen and head down for breakfast (or lunch? What time was it?). Katsuki admitted he was lucky—so far, he only felt the headache. No nausea, no body aches, no monstrous thirst. Just a headache.

He had no idea how long he stayed there, wallowing in his misery, avoiding opening his eyes or removing the pillow shielding him from the daylight filtering into the room. It could be worse, he told himself. The sun could be high in the sky, and it could be 35°C or more. But no, fortunately, it was cloudy and cold. Though that didn’t exactly make him more eager to get up.

Next to him, he heard his phone chime with a notification.

Then another. And another.

At that moment, his bedroom door burst open like a hurricane. He jolted under his covers and instinctively opened his eyes, but before he could even move the pillow from his face, someone else snatched it away with a swipe that nearly brushed his nose. A grinning Himiko loomed over him in her fluffy kitten-themed pajamas (which, in fact, had a fuzzy cat face sewn onto the front, complete with fur, and if you pressed its nose, it meowed. It also had a decorative tail in the back that stood up, making Katsuki’s hair stand on end). After snatching his pillow away, she proceeded to yank his All Might blanket off, exposing him to the room’s chill.

Katsuki scrambled to grab it before it hit the floor, but he was too slow, so he let out a startled exclamation and sat up in bed, looking at his sister with sleepy eyes, mouth slightly open, and goosebumps all over.

"What the—Himiko!"

"Katsuki!" she exclaimed and threw herself onto him in a crushing hug. It wasn’t strong enough to knock the air out of him, but it did wake him up enough to make him more aware of his surroundings, his exhaustion flying right out the window.

"What’s going on, Himiko?" he asked, his voice slightly muffled against her head. His eyes were still closed, the pounding in his head persistent, but he didn’t have the heart to push his little sister away. He hugged her gently before letting go, and she immediately flopped down beside him on the bed, her amber eyes—more like their father’s—watching him intently.

"Nothing, I just came to see how you’re doing," she said simply. "And to chat a bit."

"I’m fine, though I could use some ibuprofen," he replied, stretching his arm over the edge of the bed to grab the fallen blanket and pull it back up over both of them. "What about you?"

With Himiko, his questions weren’t just out of politeness.

She gave him a wide smile.

"I had so much fun, Kats," she chuckled. "I danced a lot, hung out with my friends, and even had pizza and tacos."

Katsuki raised an eyebrow. "Tacos? Where’d you get tacos?"

She looked at him in surprise, tilting her head, confused. "Around… one o’clock, I think? More or less, some guys—I honestly don’t know who they were—showed up with a bunch of taco boxes and left them in the kitchen for everyone," she giggled again. "I think they were from UT or something. Rich kids, you know."

Her brother rolled his eyes. "Of course. Must’ve been while I was busy trying to win that stupid game."

She gave him a light smack on the forehead, making him shut his eyes. "Hey! You were amazing!"

"Yeah, well, my hungover brain and I we don’t think the same right now."

"Oh, just take some acetaminophen and drink some electrolytes—you’ll be just fine."

"Actually, acetaminophen is hepatotoxic, and alcohol—" She stopped him with a raised hand.

"I don’t want to know. Just take whatever you need and get better, please."

Katsuki stared at her blankly. "Rude."

"As I was saying, it was awesome! The UT kids always go around flaunting their egos, even in something as dumb as beer pong, so yeah, losing even at that probably stung," she nudged him playfully, "especially that idiot Haitani."

"Haitani? Who’s Haitani?"

Why did his sister seem to know everyone while he barely knew anyone or kept up with anything? They had only been in the city for a month and a half, just one week at UA. Holy hell.

"Haitani is that idiot who said you were drinking crap," she scowled. Katsuki ran his thumb over the crease between her brows, trying to smooth it out—unsuccessfully. "He’s an asshole. And I’ve heard some really nasty things about him." She pointed at him accusingly, though it was mostly for emphasis. "He used to be in UA’s mixed martial arts club when he studied there, and now he’s in International Business at UT."

Katsuki nodded slowly, pretending to process this information like it actually mattered to him.

"Got it. And this guy, Haitani… No, in general, why do college kids come to high school parties?" he asked, raising an eyebrow in genuine curiosity.

His sister looked at him like he was an idiot. Then she cleared her throat.

"Because they’re the best parties, duh." Now he was genuinely confused.

"Really? And why is that?"

"Well, not always. Let’s say it’s… a mutual agreement? Mina explained that high schoolers can go to college parties, so college kids can come to high school parties. It’s always been like that. With schools in general, you know?"

Katsuki knew that her "you know?" was just a rhetorical habit, but he still rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, Himiko, I get it," he said, giving her a light tap on the forehead this time. "Basically, they like to mix so they can increase the risk of sexual assault and other serious crimes." He added dryly, rubbing a hand down his face, looking exhausted. He sat up, ready to get out of bed, but his sister grabbed his arm to stop him. She pouted at him.

"Don’t say it like that. We’re just kids who like to have fun."

Katsuki’s eye twitched at her use of "we."

Once again, he wondered when his little sister had grown up so much.

Maybe he was just being an idiot. He sighed.

"I guess as long as I’m there with you, it’s fine."

Himiko gave him a suspicious look, her amber eyes narrowing into slits. Katsuki quickly caught on and rushed to add, "Until you’re old enough to do it on your own."

Then she grinned at him with rosy lips and sharp little teeth. "That sounds perfectly reasonable to me, brother."

Katsuki nodded. Now they were sitting face to face on the bed. He scratched the back of his neck, once again thinking about getting up for his ibuprofen, but his sister’s voice pulled him back.

"But anyway, that’s not why I came here," she tucked a blonde strand behind her ear and started bouncing excitedly on the bed, her eyes sparkling as she took his hands in hers. He looked at her like she was a monkey riding a bicycle.

"Tell me how your night went—besides getting drunk!"

Katsuki quickly placed a hand over her mouth to keep her from speaking so loudly. She looked at him with a gaze that held equal parts amusement and the same excitement from a moment ago.

"Keep your voice down, Mom and Dad can hear you," the boy hissed in alarm.

His sister gave him a bored look and shoved his hand away rudely before speaking.

"Katsuki, at least one of our parents—if not both—were eagerly waiting for you to come home last night wasted and deflowered."

He stared at her, mouth agape.

"You're lying," he said in shock, and before she could reply, he repeated, "You're lying because—how do you explain them letting us take the car?" He finished, convinced that his argument was smarter than hers.

"There's Uber, duh." She shrugged, then playfully punched his shoulder. "But hey, at least 50% of the goal was met."

The older brother crossed his arms and stared thoughtfully at the portion of the bed between them before nodding with a reflective expression.

"Yeah, you're right," he said, then looked up to see Himiko smiling at him broadly, with the kind of expression that tried to encourage someone who had just won a second place. Something clicked in his head as he felt the blood rush to his cheeks, heating up, and he yanked his sister’s hair with a bit of spite. She let out a high-pitched yelp that had surely been heard downstairs.

"What do you mean, 50%?! You don’t know that!"

She rubbed the spot on her head where the strand had been pulled and squinted at him with one eye. "Did something happen with that guy you were, uh, having a panic attack with on the dance floor?"

The poor boy felt the color climb up to his ears and then race back down to his neck. He barely managed to mumble a weak, "No."

"That’s what I thought, Romeo," his sister shot him a knowing look. "Why not though? Was it really because you were as tense as a dead raccoon, or was it something else?"

He scratched the back of his neck. "I didn’t intend for anything to happen between Izuku and me—or between me and anyone else, for that matter, Himiko."

A slow, wicked grin spread across her lips. "Izuku, huh? And where did this Izuku come from?"

"He’s a classmate."

"I think he definitely intended for something to happen between Katsuki and Izuku."

He stared at her in shock.

"You’re insane."

She just shrugged.

"Whatever," he shook his head, trying to dismiss the strange thoughts from his mind. Then he pressed his index finger against her forehead. "My night wasn’t much more than that. What about you? I barely saw you."

Himiko flipped her hair back with exaggerated confidence. "I’m a very popular and in-demand girl."

Katsuki leaned back against the headboard, smirking as he patted her temple lightly.

"Sure, Himiko."

She looked at him, offended, then with mock disdain before replying, "I’m not lying. Saying I’m popular is not the same as you saying you’re not a virgin." Katsuki nearly choked on his own saliva, but while he coughed, she didn’t give him time to respond.

"First, I was chatting with some friends in the front yard, then we ate pizza, danced… then we played Uno and danced some more, and… then… uh… that was it."

"Liar."

"I’m not lying!"

"Well, maybe you’re not lying, but there’s something you’re not telling me." The blond raised an eyebrow as he chewed on his nail, a nervous habit he’d had since childhood.

His sister gave him a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me look, and he returned it with a no-I’m-not look. They held their standoff for several seconds before she sighed.

"Fine, maybe something else happened, but I have a right to privacy."

"You’re sixteen."

"Does that mean I can’t have privacy!?"

Noticing the slight change in her tone, Katsuki sighed and decided to let it go.

"You’re right. I just worry. Sorry."

She sighed too. "Sorry," she muttered, rubbing her neck to relax. Then she grabbed her brother’s arm as she stood up and pulled him toward the door. "Come on downstairs. I think it’s past eleven, but Dad probably saved us some breakfast."

Katsuki agreed, both because his stomach was starting to ache from hunger and because he needed his father—who had once been young—to give him some kind of remedy for his hangover. Who knows, maybe ibuprofen would be enough, but perhaps his dad knew some other tricks.

When they reached the dining room, their father was watching the news on the living room TV while seated at the kitchen table, and their mother was typing something on her computer.

Hearing them, both parents looked up to see them coming down the stairs. Their father smiled warmly at them for a second before their mother’s signature, raw laughter rang through the house, accompanied by the sound of her clapping in amusement.

The blond rubbed his face in exhaustion, wishing he could mute his mother or activate noise cancellation in his head.

"You got a hangover, Katsuki?" she teased, taking off her blue-light glasses and setting them on the table. She wiped away a tear—whether real or imaginary, he couldn’t tell. "Finally, dear God."

Himiko ignored the exchange and went to hug their father from behind his chair. Katsuki decided to ignore his mother and looked to his dad for help.

"Dad, do you have something for my headache?"

"And food, please!" Himiko added, laughing.

"What did you drink, brat?" their mother asked, arms crossed, before taking a sip of her coffee. "Or should we ask what you didn’t drink?"

The boy sighed again, resting his head in his hands, staring blankly at the table. His sister was chuckling quietly beside him, sitting in their father’s usual seat, while their mother stared at him, waiting for an answer. It took him a few minutes to respond.

"I drank more out of obligation than by choice."

She raised an eyebrow. "Elaborate."

He opened his mouth, ready to give her a quick explanation about the beer pong game that had led to his first-ever drunken state, but his father interrupted, arriving just then with a steaming cup of coffee and a pill, placing both in front of him.

"Thanks, Dad."

The older man nodded and patted his son’s back with a smile. "No problem, son. But please, I’d also like to know—what do you mean you didn’t drink by choice? Because if someone actually forced you—"

Of course, he had completely forgotten that his father took everything literally.

"No, Dad, no one forced me—at least not literally," he quickly added. "We played beer pong, and when I wanted to quit the team, the game had already started, and I had no choice but to drink."

His mother laughed again, though a little less loudly this time.

"Good thing you didn’t quit—you would’ve looked like a chicken."

"Mitsuki," his father called out tiredly from the kitchen.

"What? It would’ve been worse for him to back out during his first week as the new kid at school!" she retorted immediately. "Don’t get me wrong, honey, I was worried when they took the car and wondered if Katsuki would drink or not. He’s old enough now, but he had Himiko with him, and I trusted that she wouldn’t let her brother do something stupid like drive drunk." She pointed at her daughter with a hint of pride and zero doubt in her voice. "Besides, our son isn’t an idiot. Katsuki never would’ve considered driving if he was drunk. They would’ve taken an Uber."

"Correct," Himiko confirmed.

Katsuki took the pill and a long sip of his coffee, choosing not to add anything—because as much as he wanted to argue, his mother was right.

"But overall," Mitsuki softened her gaze at them both, "did you two have fun?"

"Absolutely, Mom!" Himiko exclaimed.

"Yeah, Mom," Katsuki sighed at the same time.

At that moment, their father returned from the kitchen with two plates filled with scrambled eggs and pancakes for both of them. He handed a glass of orange juice to his sister and also gave him an extra glass of mineral water, assuring him it would help with his discomfort. They both had sit down to join for breakfast, and before they could finish, their father mentioned that they wanted to discuss something important.

The siblings exchanged a slightly nervous glance, which made their father chuckle.

“Don’t make that face, darlings,” he said, resting an arm on the back of his mother’s chair. She was also looking at them with amusement. “It’s about the school dorms.”

Himiko’s fork slipped from her hand, clattering loudly against the glass table. She stared wide-eyed at both her parents, then at her brother.

“For real?”

“For real,” Mitsuki confirmed.

“And what does that mean!?” Her excitement made her lean so far forward in her chair that she nearly climbed onto the table. Katsuki wasn’t fazed, but he did have to lift his coffee cup to keep it from spilling. He already knew where this was going, judging by their parents’ relaxed and cheerful expressions.

Yeah, he saw this coming.

“It means we’ve already paid the fees for both of you, and you can start moving in this week,” their mother said, and the deafening, high-pitched scream that followed could probably shatter glass.

The pounding in Katsuki’s skull, which had just started to subside, came back with a vengeance.

“Are you serious? Are you serious, Mom? Dad?” Himiko was now bouncing on her feet like a hyperactive rabbit, her blonde hair flying in all directions. “This is the best birthday present ever!”

“But it’s not your birthd—”

“Silence, Katsuki!” She turned to him, pointing a finger in clear warning. “We’ll start moving in tomorrow.”

Katsuki massaged his temples, already feeling exhausted. “I’ll help you take your stuff in the car tomorrow if you want. I’ll bring mine on Sunday.”

She blinked, confused. “Why?”

“I have other things to do, Himiko.”

She pouted. “Fine, whatever.”

Katsuki stood up, took his plate to the sink, and then headed straight for the stairs. “I’m going to take a shower. Thanks for breakfast.”

“You’re welcome, son.”

Himiko got up after him and caught up with him a few steps up the staircase, stopping him just before he entered his room.

“Thanks for coming with me last night,” she said with a sly but genuinely grateful smile. “And thanks for agreeing to move to UA with me. Even though Mom and Dad basically forced you. On both things.” She chuckled.

Katsuki smiled at her fondly. “Mom and Dad didn’t force me. I did it because I wanted to.”

Then, ruffling her hair in a brotherly gesture, he disappeared into his room.

“It’s lucky that Miss Nemuri took the day off,” Ochako said as she touched up her blush in her small cherry blossom-shaped mirror.

“Girl, it really is,” Mina agreed, absentmindedly scrolling through something on her phone. “Because I hate doing anything that requires effort on the weekends. Plus, I still need to plan Kiri’s birthday.”

“Oh, right,” Izuku looked up as he discreetly reapplied his lip tint, then closed his compact mirror, resting his cheek in his palm as he hesitated. Ochako also turned her attention to Mina. “Have you decided what you’re going to do for it?”

The pink-haired girl shrugged. “I decided to throw him a barbecue-picnic.”

Ochako clasped her hands together in delight. “Oh, that’s wonderful!”

“Where are you going to do it?”

“Todoroki offered a spot at one of his father’s clubs.” Mina quickly searched for something on her phone before turning it around to show them a picture of a spacious green area with a large swimming pool, lounge chairs, and a thatched-roof pavilion. “It’s huge, it has a pool, and it could fit at least twenty people, though it’ll just be us.”

Izuku blinked, pleasantly surprised. “That’s really something.”

“It’s nice, right?”

“Girl, it looks expensive,” Ochako said, zooming in on the photo. “I’m still surprised we ended up befriending two of the richest guys in school.”

“Sometimes you’re just lucky or you’re not, gorgeous,” Izuku said, fixing his hair.

“Basically,” Mina made a gesture like she had just remembered something important and suddenly turned to rummage through her backpack. After a moment, she pulled out an item and held it up for her friends to see. “Damn, I forgot I was supposed to bring these to Kiri at the start of the hour.” They were his training gloves.

Izuku glanced at the watch on his wrist. “That was thirty minutes ago.”

Mina shot up from her seat and hurried them to do the same. “Quick! Come with me, you crazies! We can grab the suitcases from Ochako’s car and take them to the dorms later.”

“Fiiiiine,” Izuku groaned, getting up reluctantly as Mina dragged him by the wrist out of the dance hall, iced coffee in his other hand. They had been chatting with some of their classmates, who were enjoying a lazy afternoon. Others had started moving their belongings into the dorms, taking advantage of their free time.

“I’ve only been here like, once in my life, during that fleeting spring when I had, like, two dates with Hatsume,” Ochako remarked, wide-eyed as they stepped through the gym doors. She and Izuku stopped for a moment to take in their surroundings, while Mina strode ahead naturally, as if she owned the place.

“Kiri!” she called out, raising an arm as she approached the octagon. Izuku and Ochako hurried after her, stopping just behind her at the edge of the ring, where a match was already underway. “Kiri, love, I brought your gloves,” she announced expectantly, hands on her hips, as if waiting for Kirishima to hop down and collect them.

Kirishima turned to look at her, sweat dripping from his forehead, his face twisted in pure confusion, his stance still defensive—until he completely forgot he was in the middle of a fight.

“Min—”

A solid punch landed straight on his face, knocking him to the ground like a ragdoll.

Mina gasped and crouched against the cage. “Babe!”

Kirishima groaned on the floor. Izuku did his best not to laugh, but he had to lean on Ochako, covering his mouth as his shoulders shook with suppressed chuckles.

“Never get distracted in the middle of a fight, Kirishima,” Mirko commented in a bored tone from the sidelines, chewing lazily on a carrot as she sat on a platform, her legs propped up against the ring.

Izuku glanced at her before finally turning his attention to Kirishima’s opponent, who was just now rising from the floor, struggling to regain his footing.

Bakugou stood at the other end of the octagon—calm expression, bare-chested, sweat dripping like he had been standing under a shower. His breathing was controlled and steady, inhaling through his nose and exhaling through his mouth, a stark contrast to Kirishima’s slightly erratic and fatigued rhythm.

Izuku looked between the two, almost making an internal comparison, but his gaze eventually locked onto the blond, who was now circling the redhead once more. He took a sip of his coffee.

Izuku hadn’t really thought about Katsuki since their brief moment on the dance floor at Yaomomo’s party. It was now Thursday, and most of the students had been busy with the move, so he had spent the week helping Ochako and Mina. That meant he hadn’t had much of a chance to talk to Bakugou beyond casual lunch conversations. So far, the guy had mentioned he’d start moving his things over the weekend since he was helping his sister first, which was something Himiko had also told them.

And Ochako.

But that was a topic for another day.

Right now, all Izuku could think about was the way Katsuki’s abs tensed with every strike he threw at Kirishima.

Not that he found Kirishima’s suffering particularly amusing, but each punch was like a Michelangelo masterpiece chiseling away at his resolve, leaving him dry-mouthed and wide-eyed.

He inched closer to the cage, dragging Ochako with him while keeping a safe distance from Mina to avoid any unwanted questions. Ochako eyed him suspiciously, though she didn’t seem to suspect anything unusual just yet.

“What’s gotten into you?”

He shrugged, fighting with all his might to suppress the blush threatening to settle on his face like a neon sign. “I just want a closer look.”

She stared at him blankly for a moment before shrugging as well. “I like watching men beat each other up up close too.”

Izuku flinched when a heavy thud pulled their attention back to the fight. Kirishima had Bakugou in a hold, locking him down while the other struggled to break free, his face red, legs kicking for leverage. Izuku had the urge to cheer him on, but he shoved that impulse deep into his stomach, blocked like all his ex—

“Nice one, Kirishima,” Mirko muttered around her carrot. “But your grip is weak. It won’t last long.”

What happened next was so fast Izuku barely processed it.

Bakugou pushed back with such force that he took Kirishima down with him, slamming him onto the mat with a loud, painful smack that made Izuku wince. Then, Bakugou quickly straddled him, delivering a flurry of blows to his head before locking him into a hold.

Mirko finally called out, “Time!”

Izuku hadn’t realized he had been holding his breath until Bakugou released his grip and stood up, running a hand through his spiky hair, exhausted.

“That was insane,” Kirishima said, still dazed as he accepted Bakugou’s offered hand, a red bruise forming under his right eye.

Bakugou gave him a curt nod. “Good fight, Kirishima.”

“Well,” Mirko stretched lazily as she stood. “That was decent, but I’ve seen better from you two. Train harder, improve, or I’m not putting you in the regionals. Later.”

With that, she strolled toward her office and disappeared behind the door like it was just another day.

Izuku watched the two fighters step out of the octagon, all while trying—and failing—to suppress the heat rising to his cheeks.

“Kiri! Are you okay?” Mina rushed over to Kirishima as soon as she could reach him, and the guy gave her a reassuring smile while he gently placed his hand on her lower back and nodded in her direction, guiding her softly toward the side of the octagon.

“I’m perfectly fine, mon-amour,” he kissed her gently on the lips, and she cupped his face in her gentle hands, stroking the reddened spot below his eye with her thumb.

“I’m sorry I got you beaten.” She whispered, guilty.

“It’s nothing, Mina, it’ll be fine with a steak.”

She pouted.

The green-haired guy watched the scene with a hint of envy in his heart, but not the kind that made you blush with jealousy—it was more like the kind that made your soul long for something you couldn’t have. A curved, nostalgic smile formed on his face as he watched the couple longingly.

Behind them, Katsuki stepped down from the octagon, drying himself off with a towel while drinking eagerly from a water bottle.

Izuku turned away shyly.

He didn’t notice the suspicious look Ochako shot him.

“Kaminari, Sero, you’re up next.” A tall, slightly awkward-looking blonde guy said, approaching the scene, holding a clipboard with papers. Izuku watched the two guys climb up as they playfully shoved each other on the octagon stairs. Kirishima and Mina walked over to him and Ochako with friendly smiles, and the redhead pulled the other guy with a heavy arm over his shoulder to bring him closer to the group. Katsuki stumbled.

“That hook was phenomenal, Bakubro,” Kirishima said, patting his chest with camaraderie and a wide smile showing off all his sharp teeth.

“It’s true, he’ll have a sexy bruise after that.” Mina added, nudging the guy’s ribs, who laughed while squirming with embarrassment. “Are you guys having random fights or are Toshinori or Mirko organizing them?”

Kirishima shook his head while taking a long sip from his water bottle, so Katsuki answered, “Random. For now, we’re doing a free-for-all kind of practice, Mirko said they’ll organize us later based on our abilities.”

“That sounds interesting,” Izuku chimed in, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment, though he was starting to get annoyed by it, especially since Katsuki still hadn’t put a shirt on. “You guys also have regional competitions, right?”

The redhead nodded. “I think they’re not on the same dates as yours, but they’re part of the school’s sports program performance.”

“I’m sure you’ll do great,” Izuku couldn’t stop himself from saying, running a hand through his hair awkwardly.

“Thanks, Midoriya.” Kirishima said kindly as behind him, Sero and Kaminari’s fight started. Mina stepped away from him with a smile and gave him a peck on the cheek.

“Well, it’s time to go. We’ve got a lot of stuff to do in the dorms.” She pushed Ochako, who had been watching the fight, and Izuku, who had been sipping from his coffee even though his cup was empty, toward the door. “We’ll see you later. Will you guys all come to move your stuff?”

“I will. I think Kaminari and Sero will too, but only after we’re done here. Ojiro and Sato might come tomorrow.” The redhead said, watching the three of them walk toward the door.

“What about you, Bakugou?” Mina pressed, walking backwards.

“Probably on the weekend,” Katsuki said, picking up a piece of clothing from a machine near the octagon and quickly putting it on. “I’ve been helping my sister. She has more stuff than I do.” He finished, shrugging.

The girl nodded and waved goodbye. “Alright, see you later, guys.”

When they left the gym, Izuku threw his empty coffee cup into the nearest trash can, trying to do it as discreetly and casually as possible. Luckily, none of his friends paid attention as they walked toward Ochako’s car in the parking lot.

The buildings were located further south of the campus, where rows of apartment-like buildings were clustered, surrounded by green areas and a large enough parking lot to fit plenty of cars, though at that moment, it wasn’t very crowded. The buildings were painted navy blue and numbered with letters and numbers corresponding to each class. So, as you entered the complex, the first buildings were for the first-year students, then the second-year ones, and finally, the 3-A and 3-B buildings, side by side and connected by a cement and glass bridge, just like the other buildings.

The group walked past their class building, noting the moderate movement everywhere. Some people were moving small furniture into the buildings, others were carrying suitcases and other things.

When Izuku entered the building, a gasp of surprise left his lips.

The glass doors opened to a long white hallway leading to another wooden door, and to the left, there was another identical door. Mina walked up to the back door only to find it locked, and Ochako entered the left door to discover what would be their new dorm room.

Inside was a fairly spacious area with a living room set large enough to fit at least 30 people (Izuku vaguely wondered where they had bought something like this, or if maybe it was more than one set), a coffee table in the center, and a 70-inch TV at the front. Beyond the living room was a wooden dining table with at least fifteen chairs, and behind it, a breakfast bar with tall stools. To the left was an entrance to what Izuku guessed was the kitchen, and to the right, another one to something he couldn’t figure out. Beside the door they had entered was a staircase made of wood, and a small but functional elevator.

Izuku blinked, standing still while, from the corner of his eye, he saw Mina and Ochako running toward the right door and the left one.

“The kitchen is insane,” Mina said after peeking inside for a moment and then stopping in shock to look at him.

“Guys, there are like, 20 washing machines here.” Ochako added, also walking out of the laundry room and staring at both of them with the same shock.

Izuku dropped the girls’ bags on the floor and walked to the center of the living room, turning to look around the place with pleasant surprise.

“Well, when the others arrive, it’ll look less majestic, but in the meantime, we can enjoy feeling like we’re in a Gossip Girl episode.” Mina quickly entered the kitchen and came out with a couple of drinks in hand, handing one to the green-haired guy, another to the brunette, and keeping one for herself. “The fridge is full. I still don’t understand how that’s going to work, is the school going to take care of that, or do we have to do the shopping ourselves?” The pink-haired girl said, sitting next to the guy while the other girl did the same.

“I have no idea,” Izuku said, opening his soda can and taking a long sip. “I guess our parents must have all the info, but I forgot to ask my mom… we can ask Aizawa.”

“True,” Ochako agreed, looking at something on her phone.

“Let’s go check the rooms!” Mina suddenly jumped up and pulled Izuku, nearly making him spill his drink on the carpet. The guy glared at her and pulled away, heading upstairs on his own, the other two girls following him. When he reached the first floor, he noticed that the doors to four of the rooms were closed. “These four are already occupied.” He announced, not stopping too long before heading up to the second floor.

They had already discussed the room assignments in class since Monday, as some people had started moving in earlier that week. The agreement was that the rooms would be taken as everyone arrived, and no rooms would be reserved under any circumstance. The ones that were closed were already occupied, and the ones that remained open were still available. On the second floor, only two doors were closed, and Mina hesitated as she peered into the two rooms open at the end of the hallway.

“I think this one will be fine,” she said, throwing her suitcase on the bed in the room at the corner. Ochako looked at her for a moment before shrugging and moving into the room next door, doing the same.

“Aren’t you going to check the others?” The boy asked, peeking curiously into the closet of what would now be Mina’s room.

She looked at him with her arms behind her head from her relaxed position on the bed. “Why? They’re all the same, just higher up. And the higher they are, the lazier I’ll get to climb the stairs if the elevator breaks.” Ochako snapped her fingers and pointed at the girl with a knowing look, “So no, I’m good here. Ochako?”

“Girl, that’s the smartest thing you’ve said.” The brunette agreed with her.

Izuku rolled his eyes and took another sip of his drink. He opened his mouth to say something about that comment, but the ringtone of his phone interrupted him.

Taking the device from his pocket, he raised it to his face to check the screen.

He pressed the green button and excused himself to the girls while Mina stood up and opened her suitcase to let her and Ochako start unpacking their things.

“Haitani?” He called, stepping out of the room and leaning against the balcony of the floor, more surprised by the call than he would like to admit.

“Izuku,” Haitani exhaled on the other side of the line, followed by the wet sound of him chewing something for a few seconds and then the loud gulp as he swallowed a big bite. “How’s it going, babe?”

Izuku couldn’t hide the hint of excitement in his voice from such a simple thing—his boyfriend asking how he was doing on a Thursday afternoon.

“I’m good, babe, helping the girls with the move,” he adjusted a strand of green hair behind his ear, almost forgetting Haitani couldn’t see him. “What about you?”

“Eating with the guys,” the man said, now sipping something through a straw. Izuku was expecting more questions, but he ignored the emptiness in his stomach when Haitani didn’t ask any. That was Haitani: sometimes showing a little interest in his life, just enough so Izuku wouldn’t complain, and then he’d disappear until further notice. “Listen, Izuku, I’m having dinner tonight with some important partners of Charlie’s,” he started, but paused, Izuku assuming it was another bite, and he waited with his heart in his throat, too anxious and curious about what he would say next, “He let me invite this guy I told you about, that college talent scout, Shigaraki. He seems pretty interested in my soccer skills.” The sound of a girl laughing in the background made the small hole in Izuku’s stomach grow into a vortex. “The thing is, I want you to come with me.”

But then Izuku smiled. A feeling of warmth spread throughout his body, from his chest to the tips of his feet, the hole in his stomach fading into the background just by hearing those words come from his boyfriend’s mouth.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Where will it be?” Izuku brought his hand to the hem of his jacket, almost instinctively searching for something to hold onto to deal with his nerves but finding nothing else to grab, “I need to wear a suit, right?”

“Obviously, yes.” Haitani replied with a slight tone of annoyance that nearly made Izuku’s mood drop, but he clung to the vague illusion that, as rare as it was, Haitani was deciding on his own to take him as his official partner to a major event that involved his family. “It’ll be at my place. At 10. Should I pick you up at your house at 9:30?”

Izuku thought about it for a moment before a sudden realization hit him. “I- uh- forgot that- I have ballet tonight until 11.”

“Damn, that late?” Haitani complained quietly, a note of annoyance coloring his voice. Izuku felt panic rise up his spine and threaten to break his tone.

“I’ll ask to leave early. I’ll go home and wait for you there at 9:30.”

“Perfect.” The black-haired guy sipped his drink. “See you tonight then.”

“Sure, babe.”

“Alright. See you.” And with that, he hung up.

Izuku wasn’t surprised, but he pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at the screen for a long moment, as if in a trance.

A dinner. With Haitani’s family.

Izuku knew that his boyfriend’s family wasn’t particularly fond of him. Since their relationship had started two years ago, for one, his dad hadn’t been happy about Haitani coming out, and when the man passed away and his mom remarried, the few times Izuku had interacted with Charlie, things had been very awkward. And his mom. His mom was the typical suburban woman who liked to meddle in everyone’s business, including her son’s, always whispering unnecessary advice into Haitani’s ear. His sister saw him as some sort of competition at school, which the guy couldn’t fully understand, and in general, the whole family thought he was a clumsy, poor, uneducated, and unattractive mess. Over the years, they had made it pretty clear, but Haitani didn’t seem to care (or at least, that’s what he pretended), and Izuku had always been the type of person who let other people’s opinions slide. Besides, he spent as little time as possible at Haitani’s house, and in the long run, if it didn’t bother him, Izuku didn’t see why he should let it ruin his life. The only thing that had bothered him slightly was that Haitani didn’t invite him to family events as much as he would have liked, so the fact that the older guy was making an exception this time caught him off guard and filled him with excitement in equal measure.

He put the phone in his pocket and went back to the room, where Ochako was putting her clothes into the closet and Mina was organizing some school supplies on the wooden desk.

"Oh, there you are." The girl pointed at him with a white shirt hanging from a hook in her hand.

"Sorry, Haitani called." He quickly excused himself, walking over to the open suitcase on the bed and starting to take a piece of clothing, which he unfolded and began to hang on a hook.

"And now what does he want?" Mina spat from the other side of the room. Izuku struggled to not roll his eyes.

"We’re going out to dinner tonight." He answered distractedly, as if it were no big deal.

"Wow, he’s getting really romantic now with this open relationship thing." Mina pointed, looking at him suspiciously, which made him feel uncomfortable. "It doesn’t make sense."

Izuku shrugged and finished the drink he was holding before answering, "Actually, he has a somewhat important dinner at his house and wants me to go."

Ochako raised an eyebrow in surprise and paused halfway through hanging Mina’s uniform shirt in the closet. "Somewhat?"

The boy nodded, once again putting on a carefree mask to pretend the situation didn’t bother him at all while folding some of the girl’s clothes. "Some business stuff with his father and something with a UT representative."

"Wow." Mina said as she now put some things in a drawer. "Okay, tell us how that goes, diva-" She paused for a moment, shaking her head. "What happened with that guy, Korato, anyway? Did you hook up with him?"

"No-oh," he immediately replied, walking toward the door to grab the other suitcase and bring it to the bed, where he opened it. "We kissed and groped a bit, but after seeing Kacchan, he got all intense, and that pissed me off." He made a dismissive gesture with his hand. "So, I kept him for a bit, and when I got bored, I got rid of him."

"Girl, I saw that."

"Izuku," Ochako gasped, leaning toward him. "I think you gave poor Bakugou an aneurysm."

Izuku blushed. "It wasn’t like that."

"I saw you both on the dance floor too!" Mina shot back, pointing an accusing finger at the boy. "The poor thing looked totally lost, like he was going to throw up, what were you doing to him?"

"Nothing!"

"You were all over him like a maneater, and the guy could barely breathe." Ochako said with a crooked smile.

Izuku lightly hit her on the shoulder. "I was just trying to get him to have fun dancing a little!"

"Joke," Mina gave in with a laugh to the sky, wiping a fake tear. "Actually, you two looked adorable. I think it was really nice of you to try to get him to loosen up a bit, he looks so lonely sometimes."

The boy lowered his gaze and held it for several seconds on the piece of Mina's clothing he was holding.

"Kacchan is really nice."

The girls nodded in agreement, and the three fell into silence.

"Maybe you should try going out with him." Ochako said after a few minutes as if it were the most normal thing in the world while hanging a coat.

Izuku and Mina looked at her with wide eyes and mouths open in perfect ovals.

She turned around and seemed startled by their expressions for a moment but then seemed to recover and exclaimed in exasperation, "What!?"

When neither of them responded, she continued, "If you’re still doing that open relationship thing, I don’t see why you couldn’t. Bakugou is a great catch. A bit of a loser, but nothing that can’t be fixed. Plus, he’s smoking hot. Haitani would definitely feel the pressure."

Izuku blinked, Ochako’s last words echoing in his ears. "I’m not going to use Kacchan to make Haitani feel the need to pay more attention to me."

She rolled her eyes. "Of course not. I’m just saying that seeing you with a guy as hot as him, I’m sure Haitani would get his act together."

"The girl has a point." Mina intervened. The green-haired boy kept shaking his head and ran a hand through his hair, frustration visible in his gestures.

"I don’t like Kacchan— I mean, it's obvious he's very attractive, who wouldn't like him, but I don’t like him, you know?" Izuku felt his cheeks heat up despite denying it clearly and concisely, and a tingling sensation settled deep in his head. He wondered why. It was true that the guy was handsome, but not as much as his type, as quiet and reserved as he was. Izuku was more into extroverted and approachable types, while Katsuki seemed like more of an introvert and someone hard to get close to.

"I get it, I get it," Ochako immediately added, giving in to Izuku’s refusal and raising her hands in surrender. "I’d say if you don’t want him, I want him, but I find his sister more interesting." A wicked smile formed on her pink candy lips, and Izuku sighed, wondering what he was going to do with this girl who just didn’t seem to want to settle down with anything. Not that she was at the age to do so, they were young and wild, but he had noticed how protective Kacchan was of his sister and didn’t want to know how that could end.

His phone vibrated again in his pocket, this time more rapidly, and he took it out to see the notification saying he had been tagged in a post on Twitter.

At the same time, his friends’ phones also went off. They picked them up and stared at their screens curiously.

"Did you guys get tagged in Saturday’s photos too?" Mina asked after a minute, scrolling with a bored look on her face.

Izuku distractedly looked at the thumbnails before pressing one at random, where random people were doing random things in a space he recognized as Yaomomo’s living room. The lights were low, and so many parts of the photo were dark. He didn’t linger for long. He moved on to the next photo, where people were dancing on the dance floor with strobe lights everywhere. He kept scrolling through several photos with no particular interest until he came across one where the backyard of the house was in the background, and in the foreground was only half of a plastic table with several glasses arranged in a triangle, a guy with chin-length black hair wearing a UT jacket with a disgusted look on his face, making an unfriendly face at the camera, indicating he didn’t want pictures to be taken. He had a ping pong ball in his hand, and behind him were other guys, all wearing UT jackets. Izuku’s eyes widened in surprise, because he knew those blue eyes and that pitch-black hair all too well.

"What a waste, why are they uploading the photos today?" The pink-haired girl said with annoyance as she immediately put her phone away. Ochako did the same, not paying much attention, both going back to the task of folding and putting away the taller girl’s clothes in the closet.

Izuku stayed still for a minute, his gaze frozen on the photo in front of him while his mind replayed the conversation he had had in the car with his boyfriend, where he had clearly said he wouldn’t go to the party and they wouldn’t see each other. A pain in his chest and another in his head started bothering him simultaneously.

He bit his lip, unable to tell in that precise moment if what he felt was anger or immense sadness (maybe both), and shoved his phone into his pocket with a heavy sigh that took all the air out of his lungs.

How had Haitani been there, and Izuku hadn’t run into him once? It wasn’t even worth asking the question that was gnawing at his insides, which was why Haitani had told him he wouldn’t go when it was obvious he showed up at the place, not only alone but with his friends, and even seemed to have a good time. Why hadn’t he wanted to spend time with him, with his boyfriend? No, that was aside for now. The genuine question was how hadn’t he run into him once. Izuku had left around 3 AM, and even though he had spent a good part of the night on the dance floor, he had been a bit everywhere. He didn’t remember seeing the games in the backyard, but he did remember seeing a couple of UT jackets. But not Haitani. Never Haitani. Had he done it on purpose? Had he hidden on purpose?

Anger boiled inside him.

"Yeah, I don’t know why they’re uploading photos today." He muttered reluctantly. "Also, I don’t even know who that guy who tagged us is."

"Same," Ochako said while looking at her nails.

The boy tried to swallow the tears that were welling up in his eyes with each passing minute, which made his hands tremble with the feeling of living in slow motion. He wanted to call Haitani and confront him, but he knew it made no sense. He didn’t want to ruin the dinner thing, and besides, he knew the guy would just come up with some dumb excuse, which he, like the idiot he was, would end up buying. He sent the thought to the back of his mind and told himself he would act as if none of this had happened, and that was why he wouldn’t tell Ochako or Mina anything.

He quickly glanced at his watch and decided he needed a distraction, so the best thing for him was to go to ballet right away.

"Girls, I have to go." He announced, slowly but surely making his way to the door, where he grabbed his yellow backpack and slung it over his shoulder. The girls looked at him from their spot at the foot of the bed.

"So soon?"

He nodded. "I have to get there early to make up for the time I’ll lose if I leave earlier for tonight’s dinner." He explained.

Ochako nodded understandingly. "Be careful, Izuku."

"Tell us everything tomorrow."

The boy simply waved his hand in farewell and ran down the stairs toward the building exit.

When Izuku entered through the metal door of the studio, Miss Nagant had her foot on Pony, who, in turn, was performing a grand écart with her right foot resting on top of the bar, a look of concentration and a layer of sweat covering her forehead.

"You're still stiff," the bicolor-haired woman said, her foot, encased in a black ballet flat, pressing on the junction between the girl's pelvis and femur. She then turned to look at Izuku, who at that moment was dumping his backpack onto the floor and starting to take off his uniform, revealing a beige leotard and white tights underneath.

"You’re early, Midoriya," she said after glancing at her watch with a furrowed brow and a disgusted expression.

Izuku bowed deeply and quickly pulled out his ballerinas from his bag, putting them on swiftly. "Miss Nagant, what happens is that—"

"I don’t care, Midoriya," the woman gave him a look that silently told him to get into the same position as the rest of his classmates, all in the same position as Pony, and Izuku hurried to do just that, his limbs stiff as hell as he dropped to the floor. Miss Nagant barely glanced at him as she left poor Pony alone and continued doing the same with the boy behind her.

The white light of the afternoon filtered through the tall windows, illuminating the wooden floor with a certain opacity that reflected in the mirrors on the walls, and if it were a warm room with a fireplace, maybe the floors would be cozy and welcoming, but the mirror glass chilled the room, leaving one's bones frozen. The floor was also cold, and even though the windows were closed, Miss Nagant wore her knitted sweater and leg warmers.

Kaina Tsutsumi was a woman of strong character who didn't like beating around the bush. She had spent many years of her life in the ballet scene in Russia and had retired at 35, deciding to return to her home country to give professional classes to young talents. She was strict, untamable, beautiful, and a bit crazy. She was what you often found in people who had dedicated their lives to something as demanding as ballet.

Though Izuku was hoping with all his might not to lose as many screws as she had.

"Miss Nagant," he started, knowing that the longest break they would get all afternoon and part of the night would be, at most, five minutes, and there was no possibility of talking to her alone, so he simply decided it was fine if all his friends found out. "I’ll need permission to leave at 8:30 tonight." He finished, ignoring the doubt in his voice.

She looked at him from behind, where she was crushing the leg of another boy.

"And why is that?" she asked simply, her voice measured and calm as she left the poor boy in peace and moved to Izuku, dropping all the weight of her powerful leg onto his thigh. Izuku held his breath when his ligament screamed with a pull that burned all the way down his leg.

"I have to finish a task for tomorrow. Something very elaborate that they gave us today for tomorrow. That's why I arrived early," he lied.

She looked down at him and silently pressed for a couple of minutes. Izuku wanted to scream when the burning sensation made him think his leg would detach from his body if she dared press any harder. "Fine. Just because you arrived early."

She stayed on him for a couple minutes more until she finally moved away and signaled for everyone to line up in the center of the room to practice positions and other things. Time really flew by in Miss Nagant's classes, especially when they were preparing recitals, like at that moment. They usually started with a round of stretches and free movements, then they could or could not move to the bar, and maybe they would do pirouettes. Afterward, they would spend at least three hours rehearsing the piece and end with another round of movements and stretches.

By the time 8:30 rolled around, a headache had settled at the base of his skull, and it hadn't left him alone for at least an hour. He was starting to feel too exhausted, the matter with Haitani and the party swirling around in his mind again, and a lump in his throat beginning to make him uncomfortable in the middle of the room. The idea of canceling on Haitani was starting to seem appealing, but once again, his more idiotic side made its presence known, reminding him that he couldn’t ruin something like this, no matter what Haitani had or hadn’t done. He ran a hand over his face in frustration as he put on a pair of sweatpants and then adjusted his hoodie.

"Same time tomorrow?" his teacher asked from a corner of the room, her sharp eyes watching the choreography unfolding with perfect synchronization in front of her.

Izuku nodded as he put on his shoes. "Same time tomorrow."

"Good, and try not to eat or drink too much between now and next Friday because they'll be taking your measurements for the costumes. I don’t want a fat Nutcracker." Her purple, dismissive gaze scanned him from head to toe before she turned the same disdainful look to the rest of the class. "And that goes for all of you."

The boy blushed to his ears but nodded obediently, and with that, he walked out into the cold night air.

Katsuki stepped away from the wall and tilted his head, trying to figure out why his Sonic the Hedgehog frame still appeared slightly tilted to the right.

He had a hammer and a couple of nails in his hands and was starting to wonder if he had some kind of coordination problem because he had already hung all his pictures, and they all looked the same, but he hadn't noticed until now. He scratched the back of his neck in confusion.

It was six in the afternoon on Sunday, and he had finally been able to move his things into what would now be his bedroom after spending the whole week helping Himiko with hers. He had been left with no choice but to occupy a room on the fourth floor, along with Shinsou and Todoroki. One room remained empty when he arrived that afternoon, and he had locked himself in to unpack, not coming out for the last three hours. He could hear light chatter and movement downstairs, but no one had come to knock on his door, and he was grateful for that.

Smooth by Santana was playing from his speaker at a considerable volume as he finally decided he’d take care of fixing the picture issue another day. He then put the hammer and nails down on his desk, heading toward his bed with the intention of taking a nap.

That was until a few knocks on his door made him turn back.

When he opened the door, green curls and freckles looked up at him.

"Kacchan," Izuku had a friendly hand raised, holding a picture that reached his waist, turned so Katsuki couldn’t see the image. The boy blinked, processing the moment, and after observing the smaller one in silence for a minute, he snapped out of it.

"H-Hello," he stammered, adjusting his glasses poorly on the bridge of his nose. The other boy smiled, biting his lip.

"How are you?" he asked, then Katsuki became aware of how his olive eyes discreetly scanned the details of the room behind him. He added, "I see you’re settling in."

Katsuki nodded, scratching the back of his neck, a habit that since he was a child almost always indicated he was getting restless. "Yeah, I— uh— you know," he said stupidly, hoping Izuku actually knew.

The green-haired boy just laughed.

"I got here like half an hour ago," the smaller one continued, lifting the picture with both hands until he hugged it against his chest with some difficulty and looked at Katsuki with pleading eyes. "I brought some pictures with me and, uh, I heard you were hammering some things into the wall— not that I was pressed up against the wall listening—but since I forgot mine, I was wondering if you could lend me your hammer and some nails." The boy bit his lip again, and doubt filled his eyes as he waited for the other to respond.

Katsuki looked at Izuku, then glanced at the hammer and nails on his desk. He quickly grabbed them with one hand and extended them to the boy in a way that might be considered rude, but Katsuki was just too oblivious. Izuku blinked, his hands occupied with the picture that seemed heavy enough to carry with just one arm. He looked at the things Katsuki offered him, then looked into his eyes, trying to come up with a quick solution. When several seconds passed and the blonde just frowned, confused, Izuku made a move to lean the picture against the wall to take the hammer and nails, but then Katsuki snapped out of his daze.

"Oh— sorry," the boy said and quickly stuffed the hammer and nails into the back pocket of his jeans, then took the picture gently from Izuku’s hands and looked at it from his full height with a puzzled look on his face. "What room is it?"

"Next door," Izuku replied instinctively, but when the blonde entered the room that, in fact, had the door wide open, he tried to stop him by grabbing his arm. He wasn’t some damsel in distress. "It’s not necessary, Kacchan, I can do it."

But the other boy seemed deaf to his protests. Since he had already entered like it was his own home, he pulled the hammer out of his pocket and stuck a nail between his teeth while observing the left wall of the boy's bedroom thoughtfully.

Katsuki liked to be helpful, both at home and anywhere in general. Sometimes he could be a bit clumsy with certain things, like offering Izuku the hammer and nails earlier, but he could deduce from the boy's disheveled clothes and messy hair that he was probably in a hurry and trying to get most of his things settled that night. Why? He didn’t know, probably because he was someone busier than him and couldn’t afford to leave too many things pending for later. He himself didn’t have much left to arrange, not having brought many things, and if he could help the green-haired boy, he saw no reason why he shouldn’t. After all, he had finished helping Himiko. It seemed like they were the only ones on that floor at the moment, and from downstairs, he could hear his classmates laughing and chatting happily in the living room, probably doing homework or watching something on TV.

Izuku gave up after speaking to him a second time to let it go, and moved toward his bed where he was folding clothes. "Maybe a little higher," he suggested from his back, and the blonde immediately moved the picture a few inches higher until the boy made an approving sound with his throat, then started hammering.

"Thanks, Kacchan."

"It’s nothing." He said in a quiet whisper, swinging the hammer against the wall.

"I wouldn’t want to, uh… hold you up with your own things…" Izuku seemed unsure as he put his clothes into the closet drawers, his steps hesitant as he glanced sideways at Katsuki hanging the picture and stepping back to look at it, tilting his head to the right. Izuku did the same from behind. "Is it crooked?"

Katsuki stiffened, but the green-haired boy didn’t seem to notice.

"N-no."

It was then that Katsuki took the time to finally appreciate the photograph displayed in the frame: a slender woman in a fluffy white dress fitted at the waist, with a crown of flowers on her head, striking a stylized, beautiful pose, as if floating in the air, giving a smile that almost went unnoticed by the camera, her chin raised and her long neck like a swan’s.

Katsuki admired the image for several long seconds, his breath caught at the base of his throat by the beauty it radiated.

He didn’t hear Izuku’s footsteps approaching from behind him.

"She's very beautiful, isn't she?"

"Very," he replied immediately, still with his gaze lost on the angelic, lifeless, and forever motionless face.

"That's Anna Pavlova," Izuku explained, standing beside him. "She was a prima ballerina of Russian ballet during the late 19th and early 20th centuries."

Katsuki nodded and turned to look at him for a moment. "I have no idea about anything related to ballet."

Izuku laughed. "Hardly anyone does, really, unless you're a dancer yourself," he said, crossing his arms over his chest with a dreamy look.

"My sister did ballet when she was a kid," the blonde told him thoughtfully. "But she didn't like it much."

Izuku shook his head. "Not everyone enjoys ballet," he scratched the back of his neck with a demeanor that Katsuki thought was shy but also nostalgic. "It's very demanding and requires more than just conviction," he concluded, his voice taking on a deeper tone.

Katsuki glanced at the painting and then at Izuku, a thought buzzing in his head before he let the question slip out.

"So, what does it take, then?"

Something in the other boy's gaze darkened until the olive of his eyes resembled the dull green of sun-scorched grass.

"Blood, sweat, and tears."

And the way he said it sounded so serious and certain that Katsuki knew he wasn't joking. He understood that sports and arts were serious matters, and that when one pursued them with the intent to dedicate one's life to them, everything became more chaotic and intense. But he had the vague feeling that Izuku referred to it in a more raw and twisted sense. He suppressed the shiver that threatened to run down his spine and scratched the back of his neck with feigned nonchalance.

"I see," he said, again with that stupid tone that overtook his voice when he didn't know what to say, instantly wishing he could sink into the ground.

Izuku smiled at him from the side and tucked his bangs behind his ear. "Thanks for helping me, Kacchan. Himiko-chan is very lucky," he said, a laugh escaping his lips. "The person who was going to help me had something come up last minute and couldn't make it. And Mina and Ochako had to go out with their parents."

The blonde gently shook his head and fought fiercely against the flush that threatened to rise to his cheeks at the mention of his sister.

"It's nothing," he repeated, as he had a moment ago. "I can help you with the rest—if you want. I actually didn't bring that much stuff, and I was almost done."

The greenette seemed to think about it for a moment before looking toward the corner of the room, where he had two other pictures piled up. He met the taller boy's gaze and bit his lip uncertainly.

"I'd really appreciate it if you could help me hang two more, and that'll be all, I swear!" he exclaimed, hands clasped in a pleading gesture.

Katsuki simply nodded and got to work, taking the hammer, nails, and the next painting. He hammered in silence, still a bit dissatisfied with the slight tilt of the paintings, but he chose to leave it as it was. When he was almost finished, about five minutes later, Izuku's voice brought him back from his thoughts.

"You know, Kacchan," the boy began, and Katsuki paused for a moment in his movements to let him continue. "In December, I'll have my ballet recital where I showcase my independent studies," his voice sounded soft and a bit subdued, almost as if he were embarrassed. "And I think it would be great if you and Himiko-chan could come."

Katsuki blinked, astonished. He finished hanging the painting and turned to look at Izuku, a slight blush on his cheeks, gripping the hammer with both hands simply because he didn't know what else to do.

"That's very thoughtful of you, Izuku, thank you," he said. "We'll be happy to be there."

The blonde wanted to give him a smile, but try as he might, he couldn't even manage a slight curve of his mouth. He hoped Izuku didn't think his invitation was unwelcome, because on the contrary, he felt internally delighted.

But it didn't seem that way, because then the green-haired boy smiled brightly at him.

"I'm glad. We'll be performing The Nutcracker."

Suddenly, Kirishima's voice called from the hallway, followed by the sight of his striking red hair entering their line of sight.

"There you two are!" he exclaimed with a relieved smile, holding onto the doorframe of Izuku's room. "Mina and Ochako are back and brought pizza, so we're all here and going to watch a movie. Come down," he ordered, though his tone was more of a friendly suggestion.

Izuku glanced at Katsuki, awaiting his decision, to which the blonde shrugged. He had nothing else to do and hadn't had dinner yet, so the plan sounded good. Besides, although he wasn't thrilled about sitting for two hours surrounded by people, it wouldn't look good if he isolated himself on their first night together.

"I'm good with that," he said, placing the hammer on the desk.

Izuku nodded with a smile, and then both of them headed to follow Kirishima to the elevator.

Downstairs, the noise was louder, and their friends were scattered around the living and dining rooms, chatting happily or doing various things. On the coffee table lay five pizza boxes, filling the place with a smell that made Katsuki's stomach growl, and in the kitchen, someone was making popcorn. Yaomomo approached to set down plates, and Iida began handing out soda cups to everyone.

“Can I help with something?” Katsuki asked, observing the movement. Little by little, the guys in the kitchen were settling down in the living room. Even Izuku had comfortably sat between Mina and Ochako, laughing freely at some joke.

“Oh, no, Bakugou, don’t worry, we have almost everything ready,” Yaomomo told him with a smile, handing him a plate. “Sit down.”

He nodded, not entirely convinced, but he approached to grab a slice of pizza and finally sat in a corner next to Tokoyami. Iida came over to hand him a soda cup, and then Sato came out of the kitchen with Jirou, both carrying two bowls of popcorn in their arms. When everyone was seated and the lights were off, Mina shushed them with a rather harsh Shhh!! and took control of the remote.

“What are we watching?” several voices whispered.

“Titanic,” Mina replied with a dreamy voice in the middle of a sigh as she typed on Disney Plus.

Most of the guys groaned in disgust, except for someone who shouted in joy.

“Denki?”

“Dude, I love that movie. It’s spectacular. It always makes me cry.”

“Jack could fit on the board!” someone added, holding back anger.

“I know!” Denki replied with the same passion.

Katsuki took a bite of his pizza and adjusted his glasses, his gaze lost on the TV screen, his thoughts slowly drifting from one to another without much precision. The homework he had to turn in tomorrow. He still needed to shower later. The club. He still had to put up some posters. His eyes wandered to a specific spot on the other sofa, and the crimson clashed against the green once again.

Izuku brought a popcorn to his mouth, pressing it against his lips in the darkness, taking his time to chew it as his gaze remained locked with Katsuki's. On the other side, the other boy could barely make out the shadows cast by the light from the TV and the expression on the other’s face, but for some reason, he couldn’t move his gaze anywhere else. Something in his stomach twisted, like when he felt like he might throw up, and the bite he had taken still moist in his mouth, halfway chewed.

It wasn’t until the sound of the movie starting filled his ears that he was able to look away.

“Damn, I thought we were going to watch Spiderman,” someone said in the darkness, and Mina shushed them with annoyance.

“Dude, I’m scared.”

“It’ll be fine.”

“You think so? You think they gathered us all here because nothing’s going to happen? Are you stupid?”

“Please don’t be rude to me.”

“Hey, ladies!” The poor guy flinched and spun around on his feet when he heard the shout echo throughout the gymnasium.

Katsuki was under Sero's arm, who was happily humming a children's song that sent chills down his spine. But no matter how much he tried to get away, the black-haired guy kept managing to grab him again. He seemed particularly happy. In fact, everyone seemed particularly happy as they walked through the entrance, all the boys from Class 3-A and 3-B gathered together.

“Aren’t you excited, bro?” Sero shook his shoulders with camaraderie. “Today is the day these boys will become men, just like we did one day.”

Katsuki had already been told the whole backstory behind all this, but he felt unable to feel excited about something that honestly seemed dangerous, harsh, and in which he hadn’t even participated. However, when he tried to back out of it, they had practically dragged him into it. He preferred not to respond. On the other side, Denki added his weight to his other shoulder and Katsuki stumbled.

“This is going to be awesome,” he added, giving Sero a high five and then to Kirishima, who was walking ahead of them with a paper bag overflowing in his hand. “Good thing I wasn’t a girl, because my life would be really boring.”

“Tell me about it.” A blonde guy responded from the other side, carrying several milk boxes in his arms and wearing sunglasses on his head, even though it was cloudy outside. On his face was the most twisted, psychotic grin Katsuki had ever seen. “Although, I don’t know, if I had been a lady, I probably would’ve been a wh—”

“Oooookay, Monoma, we all know that,” Tetsutetsu hit him on the head to shut him up.

“Whatever,” Izuku said, taking the paper bag from Kirishima’s hand and pulling something out of it. A small, red, compact container. He then hopped away, backwards. His gaze quickly stopped at each of them while a wicked smile formed on his lips. “Let’s get to work if we don’t want to get caught.”

The first-year guys were standing in a long line at the back of the gym, with nervous and completely defeated expressions on their still-childish faces, so different from the older guys’ faces, which were starting to show signs of more mature men. They bumped elbows with each other, and some even grabbed each other’s arms in a poor attempt to protect themselves from a threat they didn’t fully understand. Katsuki counted them. There were about twenty. Kirishima began handing out a red container to each of his teammates, but when they offered one to him, he declined. Instead, they passed him the trash, and he decided he’d hold onto it until he could find a garbage can.

“Well, guys,” Monoma spoke loudly enough for everyone to hear while taking a short walk in front of the boys. “As you all know, it’s a tradition here at the school that when new generations arrive, they’re welcomed in the purest UA style.” He paused to look at them for a moment, and Katsuki swore that while some of the guys raised their chins to return the look, others hunched their shoulders. “So today we’re all here to experience this emotional moment together. The moment when you’ll become men.” He paused dramatically before adding the final order. “Now, everyone turn around.”

The guys did exactly that, and immediately Kirishima, Denki, and the others approached each of the boys, pulling at the waistband of their pants and underwear to drop the contents of the red container inside.

“This is going to feel a little weird, kiddos,” Shinsou announced with a smile.

No more than ten seconds passed before the boys began scratching their behinds eagerly.

“What the fuck—”

Behind them, Monoma started emptying the milk boxes into a gallon jug connected to a pressure hose.

Katsuki was honestly amazed by the level of organization they had for all of this. He looked at the poor guys, starting to turn red from the itching, and at his teammates, who were struggling to contain their laughter. He had to admit, deep down, he was also fighting the slightest, tiniest urge to laugh.

When they finished pouring the milk, he watched Izuku excitedly run over to the hose and grab it like he was about to do the most exciting thing in the world. He opened the valve, and without warning, he started spraying the poor guys while laughing hysterically.

Izuku was red in the face from the effort of laughing, his rabbit teeth shining in his crooked smile, and something both childish and evil in his eyes. Katsuki briefly thought that maybe he was a wicked being pretending to be something else among the people.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, but it took him a few minutes to pick it up.

When he did, he wished he had answered immediately.

Himiko Bakugou: Brother

Himiko Bakugou: Someone spread the word about the hazing

Himiko Bakugou: Nezu and your teacher are on their way NOW!!!!

But by the time he wanted to warn everyone, it was too late.

The door to the gym slammed open, and Nezu and Aizawa entered with heavy steps. Somehow, Katsuki found Nezu’s smile more unsettling than Aizawa’s furrowed brow and murderous look.

“I see you’re having fun,” the shorter man said, hands behind his back, observing the scene as if watching cherry blossoms fall. Katsuki blinked and heard from afar that someone had dropped a milk carton on the floor, followed by Mineta’s voice articulating, “I didn’t do it.”

Aizawa closed his eyes in frustration.

“You all have detention. All of you, useless slackers. And I will hold a meeting with your parents next week.”

“But—”

“But but—”

“But nothing,” Aizawa cut them off, stern. “You’ll go to detention in groups of ten. First, ten from 3-A, then ten from 3-B, and then the rest. Well? Who goes first?”

The guys looked at each other, the heavy silence stretching in the room.

“Well, now no one speaks? Excellent. Well, I see that Midoriya was having a lot of fun up there in front. And Bakugou, I see,” his eyes settled on the hose Izuku was holding and the bag Katsuki was holding, though it was just trash. “Mineta, Sero, Kirishima, Kaminari, Ojiro, Shinsou, Todoroki, Shoji.” He said, his gaze moving over each of them, all with their hands dirty in some way. “And you, to the showers, then to the infirmary, for the love of God. Professor Vlad will bring you clean clothes to the bathrooms.” With an annoyed gesture, he signaled the first-years, who ran off, still scratching their behinds and dripping milk everywhere.

Katsuki felt the urge to say his usual “I didn’t do anything,” but he was anything but a quitter, and besides, it wasn’t like Aizawa was going to believe that excuse, so he resigned himself to his fate. He scratched the back of his neck and turned to look at his teammates, who were now eyeing each other with long faces but still wearing lingering smiles. After all, the experience had been short but fun. A low chuckle escaped from his throat, and he quickly suppressed it so that neither Aizawa nor Nezu would hear it.

Aizawa walked over to Izuku to take the container and the hose from his hands and turned to leave with Nezu from the gym. Katsuki knew they were expecting everyone to follow, so he began walking with the others.

“Mr. Aizawa— Uhm. That’s mine,” Todoroki said from behind in a quiet voice.

“Yes, son?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I’ll hand it to your parents on Monday.”

“Actually, I’d prefer if you gave it to me because my mom… she doesn’t know I took it from the house…” The boy said, trying to catch up to the teacher.

“Well, if I cared, I would, son, but you see, I don’t care. You should’ve thought better about it.” He answered seriously, not even turning to look at him, and Katsuki knew that was the end of the conversation. For everyone.

Chapter Text

For Katsuki’s first time ever setting foot in detention, he definitely hadn’t expected it to be this loud.

There was a speaker on the desk up front, blasting some rock song he couldn’t quite place — which surprised him, considering he thought he had a pretty good ear — and sitting there with his feet up on the desk was a blond man with long hair, dressed way too flashy for two in the afternoon on a Monday in September. He was also wearing sunglasses and had a weird little mustache that, to Katsuki’s horror, reminded him a bit of his dad’s. Oh, Katsuki hated his dad’s mustache. It was exactly why he shaved religiously every third day.

Aizawa held the classroom door open while they all filed in like prisoners walking to the gallows, taking random seats around the room. The blond guy kept nodding his head to the beat of the music, seemingly oblivious to their arrival — at least until Aizawa walked over and smacked the speaker off with a sharp slap of his hand.

“Hizashi,” Aizawa said through gritted teeth.

“Hey!” the guy immediately protested, “I was listening to that, Shouta.”

“I need your help here,” Aizawa pinched the bridge of his nose like he was already out of patience. “You’re watching these problem children until four.”

The guy — Hizashi — pulled down his sunglasses, eyeing them all with a mix of suspicion and amusement. “What’d they do now?”

The entire group fell silent. When Denki made the mistake of trying to answer, Kirishima promptly smacked him upside the head.

“Ow! What was that for?!”

“To shut you up,” Kirishima grinned.

From across the room, Aizawa gave them all a flat look, clapped Hizashi on the shoulder, leaned in to murmur something in his ear, and then left.

Hizashi stared them down for a few seconds before settling back in his chair, pulling a whiteboard marker from the pocket of his leather jacket, and holding it up with a big grin. Then he turned his speaker back on, music filling the room once again.

“Alright, who wants to play hangman?”

No one answered, but that didn’t stop him from getting up and starting to draw lines on the board anyway. Katsuki wondered if this was really what they were going to do for two whole hours.

A soft whisper beside him caught his attention.

“That’s a really long word…”

Izuku stood next to him, arms crossed, counting the lines Hizashi had drawn on the board using both hands. It had to be at least ten letters. His brows furrowed in frustration, lips pushed into a pout, until finally he ran a hand through his hair and dropped his head onto the desk with a long, defeated sigh.

The sight almost made Katsuki laugh — almost. But he held it in, not wanting to risk offending the boy or something. He cleared his throat and looked back toward the front of the room. Around him, the others were starting to call out random letters, trying their luck.

Katsuki figured his best bet was to just zone out on his phone, so he pulled it from his pocket and started scrolling aimlessly. He saw that Himiko had sent him another message.

Himiko Bakugou: omg ur in detention??

Himiko Bakugou: omg omg

Himiko Bakugou: take a pic!!

Attached was a selfie of her surrounded by her dance classmates, all making ridiculous faces. Katsuki rolled his eyes and decided not to reply. His sister could be so annoying sometimes, always bragging about how he’d never done anything bad enough to end up in detention in his life.

He scratched the back of his neck and glanced toward Sero, who was sitting a little ahead of him with a notebook out, jotting down eleven-letter words that might fit on the board.

“I’m gonna die,” came Izuku’s gloomy voice beside him again, followed by a muffled groan that, for some reason, sent a shiver down Katsuki’s spine. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, head snapping up instinctively toward the sound — and if he’d been a dog, his ears definitely would’ve perked up right then. The thought almost made him blush.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Izuku looking at him, cheek pressed against his desk, his lips forming a fish-like pout and his eyes squinting like he was struggling not to fall asleep.

“This is what I get for trying to be clever, huh, Kacchan?”

Katsuki turned to look at him slowly, mind racing to come up with something that might cheer him up.

“At least you had fun, right, Izuku?” he offered, a small, barely-there smile tugging at his lips.

Izuku’s expression softened, and a smile spread across his face. “Yeah, it was fun, Kacchan,” he said, settling his arms beneath his head to look at him better. “I just hate detention. It’s painfully boring. I’d rather be doing kitchen duty or something.”

“Considering we sent half the first-years to the nurse’s office because we put itching powder in their pants,” Katsuki snorted, “I think it’d be pretty brave of them to let us anywhere near the kitchen — especially Monoma and Denki.”

Izuku’s eyes crinkled into little half-moons as he laughed, the sound getting lost in the noise of the room.

“You didn’t even do anything, Kacchan. You’re a saint.”

“I watched and didn’t stop it. That’s enough for me,” Katsuki shrugged.

Izuku laughed again, nudging his shoulder playfully. “Oh, so you are evil?”

Katsuki wasn’t sure what possessed him to say what came next.

“I can be.”

Izuku’s eyes locked with his for a beat, like he was processing the words, before he laughed again — with a note of... was that nervousness? Surprise? Katsuki couldn’t tell.

Then Izuku turned to face the board and called out, loud and clear:

“The word is stethoscope.”

Every head in the room turned to stare at him, faces painted with question marks. Hizashi beamed from the front, pointing at him with the marker before turning to fill in the missing letters, letting out a psychotic little laugh.

“Kid, you got it!”

Izuku brushed his hair back. Shinsou gawked at him, mouth slightly open.

“How did you even guess that?”

“You weren’t even paying attention,” Todoroki added, frowning.

“It was easy,” Izuku said smugly, grinning sideways. “Shoo.”

“Don’t Shoo me, Midoriya,” Shinsou warned, though he was clearly amused.

“Alright, next word!” Hizashi called from the front. Everyone turned back toward the board — now showing fifteen blank spaces.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Kirishima muttered.

And the game started all over again.

Izuku checked something on his phone before groaning loudly, making Katsuki glance over at him in curiosity.

“You good, Izuku?”

“My battery’s dead,” he whined, shoving his phone back into his pocket. “You know what that means, Kacchan?” He looked at him, hands pressed dramatically to his temples. “It means I’m going to be 200% more bored.”

Katsuki thought for a second before saying, “You can use mine.”

And then he held out his phone.

Most teens probably had stuff to hide on their phones. Izuku probably did too. Katsuki, on the other hand, just had group chats with his friends from Musutafu talking about their online matches and the latest Pokémon they’d caught.

Come to think of it, maybe that was something worth hiding.

His hand trembled slightly as he held the device out. Luckily, Izuku shook his head and instead leaned in so close that Katsuki could feel his warm breath against his ear.

"We should sneak out, Kacchan."

The blond straightened up, tense — though, for some reason, not as surprised or annoyed by the idea as he might’ve been at another point in his life. He adjusted his glasses on his nose and discreetly glanced at their classmates, who, despite complaining about the second word, seemed pretty absorbed in trying to guess it.

"And how exactly are we supposed to do that?" he whispered back, leaning a little closer to the greenette.

Izuku simply shook his head and gave him the simplest, dumbest explanation he could.

"I'll leave first, and you'll follow me five minutes later," he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Say you need to go to the bathroom. Mr. Hizashi's easily distracted, he’ll barely even notice." And just like that, he’d stood up, said something vaguely in the teacher's direction over the noise of music and shouting classmates, and walked right out of the classroom.

Honestly, what?

Katsuki thought about it for a moment.

He really wasn’t finding it very entertaining to sit there guessing weird words, and the idea of doing that for another hour and a half sounded even worse. He was already in detention, his parents were going to find out he got in trouble anyway. Was it really such a bad idea to ditch with Izuku? Lately, he’d been reading The Lord of the Rings and was dying to go back to it, or maybe go for a walk and catch some Pokémon nearby. What could they do if he got caught? Give him more detention?

He swallowed, a little surprised by where his thoughts were headed.

He looked at his watch and decided he’d wait five more minutes. Then he grabbed his backpack, stood up, and walked over to Mr. Hizashi, who was currently in the middle of a discussion about stressed syllables with Ojiro and Todoroki.

He stopped awkwardly next to the desk, waiting for the man to finish talking so he could say something. "M-Mr. Hizashi," he muttered — apparently too quietly, because the man didn’t even turn around, still facing the board. He forced himself to speak louder and clearer the second time. "Mr. Hizashi."

This time the teacher did turn to look at him.

"Hey, what’s up, little listener?"

Katsuki swallowed again, hating the dry feeling in his throat that threatened to make him spill the truth. He licked his lips and ran a hand through his hair in a gesture he hoped looked casual. "I need to go to the bathroom."

Mr. Hizashi smiled at him with so much warmth and trust that Katsuki's knees almost gave out. He was lying to this man.

"Sure, kid, take all the time you need."

He just nodded and turned around, not wanting to stay another second in that room with guilt weighing down on his back.

Why was it so easy for everyone else to do stuff like this?

He always ended up looking like a stupid loser.

Once the door closed behind him, a quiet sigh escaped his lips as he started walking down the empty hallway towards the bathroom.

You’ve gotta start living a little, Katsuki.

Inside the bathroom, he found Izuku, absentmindedly fixing his hair in the mirror. When the other boy saw him, he broke into a wide grin and turned around to face him.

"You made it, Kacchan!"

"I guess," Katsuki replied, scratching his cheek a little awkwardly, not really sure why he felt so weird. He took off his glasses, stepped up to the sink, splashed them with water, and then wiped them down with the sleeve of his blazer. "So... now what?" he asked, glancing at him through the mirror. Izuku was leaning against the sink, still watching him with that big, bright smile. He chuckled.

"Now, Kacchan, let’s go get something to eat, 'cause I don’t know about you, but I totally missed breakfast thanks to all this and I’m starving," he said, leaning towards him in a way that reminded Katsuki of a rabbit. "We can go to the dorm and whip something up."

Katsuki thought about it for a moment as he finished cleaning his glasses. He put them back on and looked at Izuku, his expression contemplative.

"You don’t think Mr. Aizawa might be there?"

Izuku pressed a finger to his lips, thoughtful for a few seconds before answering. "I doubt it. Even though they said we'd have 24/7 supervision, I’ve only seen him do rounds at night during the week. Plus, he probably thinks we’re all in class right now."

Touché.

And truth be told, Katsuki was hungry.

"I guess you’re right," he gave in, and Izuku nudged him playfully in the ribs. "But if we get caught, I’m denying everything."

"Kacchan!"

The walk to the dorms was filled with loud laughter that Katsuki desperately tried to get Izuku to tone down. Turns out, as he was now realizing, the green-haired boy could have a pretty ridiculous laugh when properly provoked. Katsuki had no idea what was so funny, but apparently it was just him. Yeah, Izuku was totally laughing at him.

They’d talked a bit about the party on Saturday, reminisced about that morning’s incident in the gym, and Izuku had told him about the hazing the olders pulled over him during his first year. Katsuki had told him about some of the weird stuff that had happened to him while out hunting Pokémon — including the time he’d trespassed on private property and ended up with a bruise on his butt just to catch a Snorlax.

By the time they reached the building, Izuku was red-faced and out of breath, but the moment they stepped inside, he went straight to the fridge, grabbed a soda, and took a long gulp to recover.

"God— you really are something else," the boy said, rubbing his stomach and hopping up to sit on the counter, drink in hand. "Total nerd."

Katsuki frowned from his spot, inspecting the fridge’s contents. "I’m not a nerd," he replied, his voice tinged with fake annoyance, fully aware that, yeah, he was totally a nerd. But if Izuku was gonna call him that, then he was allowed to fire back.

"If I’m a nerd, then so are you," he said, pulling out some veggies and other ingredients from the fridge and pantry and placing them on the counter. Izuku eyed them with curiosity but didn’t move a muscle. Katsuki accepted his fate as the designated cook and got to work chopping and prepping everything.

"No way," Izuku protested, pouting. "I’m totally normal."

Katsuki ignored the slight sting in his chest at the implication that him being a nerd meant being not normal.

"You’re a ballet nerd," he pointed out, setting a pan with oil on the stove. Izuku seemed to consider that for a moment, swinging his feet back and forth in the air.

"Maybe," he admitted, "but only for that."

Silence settled between them after that. The only sounds were the soft sizzle of the pork frying in the pan and the clinking of Katsuki's knife against the cutting board.

"This is way too quiet," Izuku complained a moment later, hopping off the counter. He tossed his empty can into the trash and headed for the kitchen exit. "I’m gonna grab my speaker and my charger so we can put on some music. Be right back."

Katsuki watched him leave out of the corner of his eye before returning his attention to what he was doing, moving confidently and quickly around the kitchen. A moment ago, he’d vaguely remembered Izuku mentioning that his favorite food was katsudon, and it just so happened that all the ingredients were right there. It was a dish he knew how to make — and didn’t think he sucked at — plus it was relatively quick to prepare. He figured he might as well make enough for their other classmates too.

Ten minutes later, Izuku came back, a small speaker in hand and a fresh change of clothes. He climbed back up onto the counter next to him and crossed his legs, scrolling through something on his phone.

Katsuki focused his gaze on the pork sizzling in the pan, trying very hard not to focus on the bare skin of Izuku’s thighs, now visible thanks to a pair of tiny shorts.

"Okay, Kacchan, tell me a song you wanna listen to," the boy said, glancing down at him for a moment. "Then I’ll pick one and— Oh man, this smells amazing, what are you cooking?" Stretching his neck, he peeked over to see what was cooking on the stove, then turned back to look him in the eyes, full of curiosity.

Katsuki went quiet for a couple of seconds before replying with a completely blank expression.

"Katsudon."

Izuku's mouth formed a perfect "O", and his olive-green eyes seemed to sparkle so sweetly that Katsuki could almost swear they stopped looking olive and turned emerald for a split second.

"No way!"

He swallowed down a low laugh. "Way."

"For me?" Izuku batted his eyelashes at him so flirtatiously that Katsuki felt his throat close up. What the hell with this guy?

"A-Actually— I made it for everyone." He rushed to clarify, trying to shake off that weird tingle in his brain. Izuku frowned and pouted.

"Oh, you almost made me feel special."

Honestly, Katsuki had no idea what to say to that, so he just stood there, frozen. Izuku rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed, though Katsuki couldn't tell if it was real or just for show.

"Come on, Kacchan, the song."

The blond thought for a second before making his decision, pulling the pork off the stove and checking on the rice.

"Gloomtown Brats."

The song started five seconds later, and Katsuki couldn't help but bob his head slightly to the catchy bass and the singer's funny voice.

Izuku swung his feet, apparently also getting into the music, and set the speaker down next to him on the counter as the song played softly.

Silence fell between them again for several minutes, during which Katsuki could feel Izuku’s heavy gaze burning holes into his back. A shiver ran down his spine as he did his best to ignore the weight of those eyes following him everywhere he moved.

Izuku definitely struck him as the type of person with a strong, almost intimidating presence — direct and straightforward. He could seem shy and small one second, and then look like a titan ready to crush anyone in his way the next.

From the little Katsuki had seen and learned so far, he could say with reasonable certainty that Izuku was proud, and could be downright fierce if the situation called for it.

And, of course, he expressed his curiosity openly — like right now — and sometimes it seemed like embarrassment just slid off him like soap.

Katsuki wasn’t sure how many minutes had gone by like that, but just as he was starting to serve the food — and simultaneously feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up — the sound of Izuku’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Are you seeing anyone, Kacchan?" The boy asked, and Katsuki almost dropped the full bowl of food right onto the floor.

He blinked, confused, standing frozen for a second with a bowl in each hand. Three seconds later, he snapped back into action, walking stiffly over to the dining table where he set both steaming plates down side by side.

"W-W-What?" A nervous laugh escaped him as he turned back to put the dirty utensils in the sink and cover the pot of food. Izuku followed him there and back again when they both sat down at the table, handing him a can of soda.

"You heard me," the green-haired boy repeated, deadpan, like Katsuki was an idiot for not getting it the first time. "Do you have a girlfriend? Or boyfriend?"

Katsuki popped open his soda and took a long gulp, the sound loud in his throat, before answering.

"N-No," he whispered. He thought about adding a "Why?" but immediately decided it was probably better to leave it at that. Besides, he was starving.

But Izuku didn’t stop.

"Really? That's weird. You're really handsome." The boy said it so casually, like it wasn’t a big deal, while picking up a bite with his chopsticks and blowing on it gently before popping it in his mouth. He chewed slowly while Katsuki felt his face catch fire. He wanted to dig a hole and crawl into it.

"I mean, I’m sure you know that already, but— I just kinda expect you’d be dating someone."

Honestly, once again, Katsuki found himself at a complete loss for words. What was he supposed to say to that? Thanks, me too?

He stuffed a bite into his mouth and closed his eyes in barely contained frustration.

"I'm not really the type who dates much," he said simply, shrugging.

"I see," Izuku nodded, still eating. "That's a waste. Maybe it’s 'cause you lived in a small town. If you were in Tokyo, people would be all over you already."

There was something about the way he said "people" that sounded... off to Katsuki.

"Then again, maybe they will and I’m just speaking too soon," he finished, taking a sip of his drink. Katsuki chewed slowly before replying.

"That’s not what I’m looking for."

Izuku glanced at him sideways. "What are you looking for then, Kacchan?"

He shrugged again. "For now? Just finishing high school and getting into a good university."

Izuku stared at him for a couple of seconds, a flicker of confusion mixed with something like admiration in his eyes.

"You're really mature."

The blond almost felt himself blush again, so he turned back to his plate and kept eating like nothing had happened.

"I just have goals. Same as you."

Izuku smiled at him. "Maybe."

They ate in silence for a couple more minutes. Katsuki figured that if Izuku was asking him questions, maybe he could ask a few of his own, right? The mood was already set, so maybe it wouldn’t come off like he was some nosy idiot. Plus, Izuku had started it, after all. And it wasn’t like he had any special interest or anything. It was pure, simple curiosity — just like Izuku’s.

He took a quiet, deep breath and turned toward him, nibbling the tips of his chopsticks with sharp teeth.

"You… are you seeing anyone, Izuku?"

The boy lifted his head, looking at him with genuine surprise — that rabbit-like expression on his face again — his chopsticks still in his mouth. He seemed to think about it for a moment.

A long, long moment.

"No," he finally answered with a curved smile and crescent-moon eyes.

Just as Katsuki was about to reply, the sound of Izuku’s phone ringing cut him off.

Izuku pulled it from his shorts pocket and looked at the screen with a strange expression — almost like he wasn’t expecting the call, but at the same time like he kind of was. He brought the device to his ear and answered.

"Hey," he said neutrally, finishing the last of his meal while listening to whoever was on the other end. "You’re already—? Oh, right now..."

His green eyes lifted to Katsuki’s with a conflicted look — almost guilty — before glancing back down.

"Yeah, just give your name at the entrance, they should let you in— yeah, building 3-A."

He switched the phone to his other ear, and when he noticed Katsuki’s plate was empty too, he grabbed both their dishes and stood up to take them to the sink.

"Yeah, okay. I’ll wait for you here. Bye."

Katsuki stood up too, not particularly interested in the call, but ready to tell Izuku he could wash the dishes — though the other had already put away his phone and was scrubbing them down thoroughly.

"Kacchan," he said as soon as he saw him cross the threshold, turning to look at him with soapy hands, "Kacchan, I’m sorry but— a friend’s coming over—"

Katsuki shook his head, not understanding the worry in Izuku’s eyes.

"It’s fine, Izuku, I can wash—"

"No!" Izuku turned back to the sink, washing quickly. "You cooked, Kacchan, I’ll wash. But I’ll make it up to you some other day, since I was the one who convinced you to ditch. Sorry."

"It’s fine, Izuku, really," the blond told him, leaning against the doorframe. "Besides, I’ve got stuff to do anyway."

Izuku didn’t say anything else, too focused on finishing up, so Katsuki quickly packed up the food into plastic containers to save it for when their classmates got back from classes. It wouldn’t be hot or freshly made anymore, but they could heat it up in the microwave.

By the time Izuku finished, it was just as there were loud, insistent knocks at the door — and right when Katsuki was about to head upstairs.

Izuku rushed to open it, waving awkwardly at him in goodbye, but was interrupted when the door, barely cracked open, was pushed inward by a guy Katsuki immediately recognized.

Normally, he didn’t bother remembering the faces of people irrelevant to his life — but this one was way too fresh in his memory.

Chin-length black hair, scruffy beard, lanky frame.

"Hey, what took you so long?" The man asked, eyeing Izuku up and down and closing the door behind him with a kick.

"Haitani— I literally opened the door two seconds after you knocked," Izuku replied, sounding like he was about to cry.

"Hmm," Haitani grumbled, and then his gaze swept quickly over the living room and dining area — before noticing someone else was there.

It was too late when Katsuki realized he’d been standing frozen on the stairs, silently watching the whole interaction.

The man seemed to recognize him too, because his brow furrowed immediately.

They’d met at the party on Saturday, at the beer pong table.

Katsuki vaguely wondered if the idiot would mention it.

But before either of them could open their mouths, Izuku (thank God) stepped in between them.

“This is Ka- Bakugou, Haitani, my classmate. And Bakugou, this is Haitani.” Izuku started to say something else but decided against it, leaving the words hanging in the air. To Katsuki’s eyes, he seemed nervous. But Haitani was so focused on giving Katsuki a bad look that he didn’t seem to have paid much attention to Izuku’s words.

“Bakugou, huh?”

The blonde nodded at him and raised a palm in peace. “Nice to meet you.”

The other guy didn’t say anything.

Izuku, beside him, seemed to start getting uneasy. He grabbed the black-haired guy's arm and gently pulled him toward the elevator.

“We’re leaving, Ka- Bakugou, see you later?”

“Sure.”

Izuku nodded and led Haitani to the elevator. Katsuki couldn’t miss the hand that settled on Izuku’s lower back, almost brushing his butt with possessiveness.

The weeks following the “Itch-Itch Incident,” as Monoma and Denki had called it, went by in the blink of an eye. Assignments had started, and between group projects, individual tasks, and preparing for university entrance exams, things, as Professor Aizawa had said, had really started to get serious. Katsuki felt like he had a rope around his neck and one foot hanging in the air.

On the other hand, he didn’t understand these people.

Because they didn’t seem half as worried as he was.

After the party at Yaomomo’s house, he had heard them talk about organizing another one, but they complained about not having a house available. Mina suggested going to a nightclub. So since then, they had been sneaking alcohol and who knows what else into their rooms, hiding it from Aizawa and all the other professors. Honestly, Katsuki was a little worried about his future at this school. What would happen if they got caught? He doubted Nezu would forgive a few of them. No, they’d probably be handing out expulsions to everyone.

How would an expulsion look on his school record?

How would the university admission committee see it?

God, maybe he was a loser, but he wasn’t going to sacrifice his future for a bunch of idiots.

He was sure at least 50% of them were hooking up in their rooms. And who knows how many more. Iida tried to keep them in line, but even he had limits.

God, he sounded like a damn grandpa, didn’t he?

And besides, he was worried about Himiko. If this stuff was going on in his dorm, what kind of things were happening in his sister’s dorm? For the love of God.

Katsuki had known from the very beginning that all of this was a bad idea. Youth was wild. Not that he was a saint—nobody wanted him around—but there was no way things wouldn’t spiral out of control. And they had only been there for a couple months. Ten more to go.

He could say that he had a good time with his classmates, because saying that he spent most of his time miserable would be a lie.

They were nice, tried to include him in their activities (even if they included substances), and overall seemed to appreciate him. Even though he had joined the class quite late.

But the moments he enjoyed most were when they would organize to do assignments or study, usually with Mina or Ochako leading the group. He particularly enjoyed teaching others, so he was always available if any of his classmates needed help with something specific.

A few times, he had gone out with the mixed club guys to eat or to play at the arcade, but those had been rare, limited by the workload, or more accurately, by what he allowed himself to do. Even sometimes, Himiko came to hang out in the dorms because apparently, she had hit it off with Ochako, Mina, and Izuku.

Izuku.

Izuku was another matter.

Since that day Haitani had decided to show up at the building, his name hadn’t come up between the two of them even once. Izuku had introduced him as a friend, and Katsuki had decided to stick with that version, so he didn’t dwell much on it. Haitani hadn’t come back, and anyway, it wasn’t like Katsuki wanted to see his face.

Izuku and he had grown closer little by little. They had gone from occasionally chatting at lunch to sitting together every day, texting almost daily, and doing things together even in the dorms. In fact, Izuku sometimes asked him to help him with specific subjects, especially calculus, in his room. Things between them seemed to flow naturally, and honestly, Katsuki felt pretty relaxed and at ease having found a friend in him, someone with whom he could temporarily say goodbye to his loneliness.

On the other hand, he had noticed a couple of strange behaviors in the guy that caught his attention.

The green-haired guy seemed to drink in enormous amounts. He did it carefully, though, like when they organized their little meetings in the living room, and Denki somehow managed to sneak in beer. Izuku drank until he slammed into walls, and Katsuki could even hear him vomiting from the other side of the wall. The first few times, the blonde had been so scared that he had considered barging into his room to make sure he hadn’t choked on his own vomit, but he had learned that Izuku was trained in that area.

The second thing he noticed was that, even though he sometimes disguised it with cheap talk and other distractions, he really ate very little.

It seemed like all his muscle and fat went into his legs, because the rest of him was just skin and bones. Probably from how much he worked his legs in ballet.

The third thing he noticed was that he was tangled up with many people.

It was true that he wasn’t scared of that stuff and knew it was perfectly normal for Izuku, being the pretty thing he was, to have flings and people fawning over him, but having a new one every week seemed a little excessive. Hell, he had even seen him bring Monoma to his room.

Luckily, the walls were thick.

Or maybe his brain just muted everything—he had no idea.

The last thing he noticed, but wasn’t entirely sure about because he wasn’t an expert on the matter, was that Izuku was flirting with him.

But just thinking about it felt pretty naïve and stupid. How could Izuku be flirting with him? It was a topic he had wanted to talk about with Himiko many times, but his embarrassment had kept him from doing it, and lately, Himiko seemed so caught up in other things that he felt bad interrupting her bubble.

To begin with, Izuku flirted with everyone. It was like his nature, almost as if he had an innate ability to make people feel the need to praise and pamper him with just a flutter of his long green lashes. But for Izuku, it all seemed like a game, which left Katsuki even more confused.

One moment he seemed completely hooked on him, and the next, he barely looked at him. And all Katsuki wanted to do was grab him by the shoulders, shake him, and yell at him: What the hell do you want from me?

“…But you know, whatever my girl does will be fine, because it will be so manly.”

Katsuki snapped out of his thoughts, brought back to reality by Kirishima’s voice, who was working out on the curl machine next to him. He tried to hide as best as he could that he hadn’t heard half of what he had said.

“…I’m sure Mina planned something amazing,” he said, unconvinced. Sero, next to him, saved him.

“Bro, Mina always has the best ideas, it’s probably going to be amazing. I just hope it doesn’t involve any toxic substances because I’m going to see my parents this weekend,” he said with a laugh, lifting a pair of weights.

“I know, I hope it’s something chill too,” Kirishima added, “Halloween is coming up, and I’m saving my liver for that day.”

“Oh, that’s right, bro, do you guys know what you’re going to dress up as?” Denki asked from the platform.

“Absolutely not,” Sero replied, “But I was thinking of something like Edward Scissorhands.”

“Cool.” Denki exhaled, looking at it in his head. “What are you going to dress up as, Bakugou?”

Katsuki shook his head, sitting on a platform with his elbow on his knee, lifting a weight. “I don’t usually dress up for Halloween.”

“Oh—come on, this time you have to do it!”

Before Katsuki could respond, the bell rang throughout the gym, signaling the end of class.

“Great! A shower, and the girls are waiting for us at the building,” Sero said, grabbing his water bottle and towel, heading toward the showers. The others followed, except for Katsuki.

The blonde grabbed his gym bag and headed toward the dorms.

The building was still empty. He assumed it was because his classmates were just now leaving their classes, so he hurried up to his room for a quick shower. The warm water felt like several weights were being lifted off his back, and he sighed deeply when he was completely wet. He honestly didn’t feel like going out, but he had to admit that for being autumn, and with the weather that had been going on for weeks—cloudy and cold—the sun seemed to have made an agreement with Mina, because it decided to show itself only for Kirishima.

There was a light, fresh breeze, and the sun emitted a spicy heat if you were directly under it, but pleasant if you sat in the shade. He vaguely heard Mina mention something about the pool being heated, so that wouldn’t be an issue. Not that he planned on getting in the water, but he figured several of his classmates were going to. Anyway, when he came out of the bathroom, dressed and packing his bag, he tossed in a towel and a swimsuit. You never know.

His phone buzzed on the bed.

Tokyo’s Best Asses: 1 new notification.

Ashido Mina: see you in the parking lot in 5

Katsuki zipped up his backpack, threw it over his shoulder, and headed out of his room toward the elevator. On the way, he ran into Iida and Yaomomo.

"Hey, Bakugou." Yaomomo greeted him with a friendly smile as she got into the elevator with both of them.

"Hey, Momo, Iida." He nodded at both of them and pressed the button for the ground floor. Iida had a worried look, furrowing his brows and pressing his lips into a tight line.

"I hope it's true that no one's bringing alcohol," he suddenly said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Since we’ll be driving back, it would be the dumbest thing to drive drunk."

Yaomomo chuckled softly, covering her lips with her hand. "Don’t worry, Iida-san, I talked to Mina last week, and she said they’ll only bring soda and stuff for the picnic and the BBQ."

The guy nodded, visibly more relaxed but still not entirely convinced.

By the time they reached the parking lot, most of the group was already there. Katsuki counted twelve of them, plus Hatsume and Tetsutetsu.

"Alright, we’re just missing—oh, there they are. We're all here." Mina said loudly, pointing at Ojiro and Sato to hurry up. "We’ll take Ochako’s car and Shouto’s. Things are already inside."

With that, the girl quickly opened the door of Ochako’s white car and stared thoughtfully at the back seats.

"I think I know how we’ll fit," she announced, determined. "Denki, get in," she ordered, and the guy did so without a word. "Shinsou, sit on top of him—not in the way you like, please." The purple-haired guy's face flushed under the sun, but he did as she said.

"Now, Yaomomo and Jirou." The girls did the same as the previous pair, and then Mina grabbed Kirishima by the arm and made him get into the car, sitting on his lap afterward. Up front, Ochako got into the driver’s seat, and Iida sat in the passenger seat.

Mina looked outside hesitantly.

"You guys can sit with Shouto." She simply said before closing the door, and then the car started with a soft purr as it headed toward the exit.

Katsuki looked at the seven remaining people, and then Todoroki got in the driver's seat.

"Alright, we’d better hurry, so get in." He announced simply, not bothering to arrange them like Mina had done with the other group. Katsuki figured there wasn't much to be done. In the other car, Mina had taken all the couples, probably for comfort, so now it was up to them to make themselves comfortable however they could. Sato quickly hopped into the front seat, leaving only the three back seats available.

"Well—whatever, let's go," Tetsutetsu said as he climbed into the back, motioning for Hatsume to follow. Though they were from Class B, they knew the Class A guys pretty well, but Katsuki understood there was a stronger bond between them, so it made sense that the two guys would go together. Hatsume settled on Tetsutetsu’s lap, and then Ojiro climbed in the middle, Tsuyu following him with little interest until she sat on his lap.

"Midoriya’s thinner, so he should sit here," the girl observed, noticing that the space next to the door wasn't particularly wide.

"Bakugou will crush him," Hatsume said from the other side, peeking over to see what they were doing. "It’s better if he carries Midoriya."

Katsuki stared at the empty seat with a blank and still expression, wondering what he should do next. Next to him, Izuku took off his backpack and gently nudged him with an arm to get his attention.

"Sit down, Kacchan," the guy said with a kind smile, and he nodded in response before climbing into the car and squeezing into the corner. Izuku climbed onto his lap afterward, struggling a bit to get comfortable but eventually managing, his backpack on his legs. Katsuki closed the door, and Todoroki revved the engine with a loud roar that made the blonde’s heart race.

The ride was filled with light chatter and occasional laughter here and there, but Katsuki couldn’t participate much, as he was too busy trying to catch his breath after every sharp turn in Todoroki’s 2024 SUV. He mentally noted that he’d come back in Ochako’s car. It turned out that Todoroki was a terrible driver.

When they arrived, Katsuki was genuinely impressed. The exterior screamed luxury, with a circular driveway featuring a large fountain in the middle, where a couple of valets and bellhops were ready to take their things and cars. There were two large sliding glass doors, with a big revolving door in the center. He had been about to open the car door when a uniformed man approached to do it for him and even offered his hand to Izuku to help him off his lap, while he carried his backpack with the other hand.

"Welcome, Mr. Midoriya," the man said, letting go of him and gesturing for him to head toward the entrance. Izuku flashed him a bright smile and waited by the door for the rest of his friends to get out of the car.

"Welcome, Mr…"

"Bakugou," Katsuki finished for him, feeling a little awkward being called ‘sir,’ but deciding not to add anything further. The bellhop shut the car door just as Todoroki caught up with them and handed the car key to another man in a different uniform.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Todoroki. It’s a pleasure to have you back."

Todoroki nodded with his usual expressionless face.

"Is my father here?" he asked, a bit of tension in his voice.

"No, sir, your father has been away since Monday." The rest of their friends joined them as the cars drove off again, and they began walking toward the entrance. Todoroki didn’t say anything else as they reached the lobby and followed the bellhop’s lead.

Katsuki looked around the club in awe. The hallway walls were basically large windows letting in light and offering views of green landscapes stretching endlessly. There were people walking through the lobby and all over, though it didn’t seem particularly crowded; they had passed by two elevators and a large wooden door leading to the "Restaurant" sign, from which a lot of noise was coming, including live music. There was air conditioning, and most of the people he saw were dressed in light clothing.

By the time they stepped outside, they walked for about three more minutes along a winding path that led them to an area somewhat hidden by other trees and bushes but still open enough for the sunlight to shine down, revealing a large pool, several beach tables, and loungers for sunbathing. Their things, including the grill, burger ingredients, fruit baskets, and the cake, were already there.

"Wow, this is—this is amazing," Kirishima murmured in front of him, an arm wrapped around Mina’s waist as he stopped at the entrance of the area to admire the whole view with surprise. Sero and Denki joined them, shaking him with fraternity and rubbing his crown.

"It was all your girl’s idea, bro," Sero said, offering a fist to Mina, who enthusiastically bumped it.

"Everyone contributed a little," she said shyly, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "So we hope you have a lot of fun." The redhead turned toward her and swept her off her feet, spinning her around in the air in his arms. The girl let out a loud laugh.

Katsuki walked over to a lounge chair and collapsed into it, exhausted.

"What’s with the mood, kid?" Someone asked from behind him, and he turned with one eye closed to avoid the sunlight's glare.

Jirou was standing next to the lounge chair, in her swimsuit, holding a tall glass of what looked like strawberry slushie.

How had she done all that so quickly?

The guy stared at her for a moment before turning his gaze back to the pool, where the sun shone and several of his classmates were starting to strip off their clothes to reveal swimsuits.

"What do you mean?" He asked, trying to change the subject. She then sat down on the empty lounge chair and took a long sip of her drink. From a distance, he noticed several club staff members beginning to set up the grill and lay out the ingredients for the food, arranging the rest of the food on the tables. He had thought they'd be handling everything, but now he realized that Todoroki's dad lending them the place probably included the catering too. Good for him.

"I saw you all 'ugh,' and you're here all 'huh,' and all I can think is 'hah?'" She said, reclining in her chair. "I've seen you stressed out for weeks now."

He mimicked her, reclining as well, and ran a hand over his face in a vain attempt to wipe away the tired look because, yeah, he was tired. He'd been waking up at five in the morning to not miss his morning training and going to bed at one in the morning to study for the entrance exams.

"I'm a little stressed," he replied simply, pulling out his water bottle from his backpack and taking a sip.

"And why's that?" She asked, with a genuinely curious tone in her voice. Katsuki almost wanted to ask her back, Why aren’t you?"

"Studying for the entrance exams."

"Uh-huh," she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and pushed her sunglasses up to rest on her head. "Maybe I should be doing that too."

Katsuki raised an eyebrow with condescension. "No rush," he said, trying to swallow the sarcastic tone in his voice. At the end of the day, it wasn't his business what his classmates did. He only cared about his own stuff.

"So, where do you plan on applying, anyway?" She propped herself up on her elbows on the lounge chair, holding her drink with one hand.

He shrugged.

"I guess the best of the best here is UT."

She blinked. "You’re serious, huh?"

Katsuki simply nodded, his gaze lost in the distant blue horizon. After a brief silent moment, she continued.

"What do you want to study?"

He shrugged again and scratched the back of his neck, looking thoughtful. The truth was, he hadn’t really sat down to think about it properly, and he hadn’t discussed it much with his parents. He’d maybe touched on the topic with Himiko a couple of times, but his sister was still too young to come to any conclusions, and he, if he was being honest, still had his head a bit lost between different things that caught his attention. He’d considered everything from Business to Medicine, but lately, he was leaning more toward Engineering.

At one point, he’d even considered becoming a professional judoka.

He knew his parents would support him, but he wasn’t too sure about it. Living off fighting in a ring? He wasn’t sure he could handle that lifestyle.

"I’m not sure," he answered, downplaying it, and forced himself to ask out of politeness, "What about you?"

"Music," she replied immediately. "I’m hoping to get a scholarship abroad."

Well, that was pretty ambitious. Katsuki turned to look at her with a puzzled expression. "Doesn’t that stress you out?" She laughed.

"I’m good," Jirou said, a smile full of confidence and ego, and he almost felt a little envious. "They’ll accept me."

He shook his head, a smile on his face to let her know he found her self-confidence refreshing. She laughed again and took another sip of her drink. In the distance, loud laughter and the sound of splashes made them turn their heads to see what was happening in the pool, where Shinsou and Ochako were chasing Izuku, who was also in a swimsuit, pointing water guns at him. In the pool, Hatsume and Ojiro were playing with a ball, and the rest of their classmates were sunbathing on the lounge chairs while the waiters were grilling the burgers.

"Come on," Jirou’s voice startled him when he turned to look at her. The girl was now standing next to him, offering her hand and smiling at him with a sort of fraternal air. Katsuki stared at her hand, then at her eyes, and then back at her hand, a little confused by what she expected him to do. She punched him lightly on the shoulder and immediately grabbed his hand, pulling him up to his feet.

"Where to—"

"With the others, obviously. You don’t expect me to leave you here all alone, do you?" She scolded while pulling him toward where the others were, closer to the pool and all the noise. Denki was trying to set up the speaker. Katsuki swallowed a sigh, and as they reached the others, Mina sat up in her lounge chair, took off her sunglasses, and looked at him with more attention, her lips in a pout.

"Oh, Bakugou! I lost track of you for a moment, I was about to send you a message."

"Don’t worry, I found him." Jirou said, letting go of his hand to sit next to Yaomomo, who was lying in her chair reading a book. He simply found an empty chair and plopped down into it. On a small table close to the ground, covered with a pink-checkered tablecloth, sat a basket of fruits and other snacks that immediately made his stomach growl. He got up again just to grab a few grapes and cookies, which he began eating in silence while Denki approached them, speaker in hand, moving his body to the rhythm of Sao Paulo by The Weeknd.

Katsuki almost wanted to laugh because the scene itself struck him as funny—Denki in sandals, shorts, a tropical shirt, and sunglasses while doing one of his weird dances as he entered the scene.

"So, what are we doing now? If you're not going to give me something to drink, better give me something to do soon," he declared, leaving the speaker next to the fruit basket.

"Don’t be an idiot, Denki," Jirou said, extending her drink, half-finished. "Here, drink this, it’s delicious."

He shrugged and took it, then sat on Shinsou’s lounge chair to drink his new slushie. One of the waiters approached with a solemn air and positioned himself so that everyone could see and hear him, speaking loudly over the music.

"The food is ready, Mr. Todoroki."

The boy turned to see the man, distracted as he was in a conversation with Sero and Sato, and nodded toward him with a friendly expression. "We’ll be over in a moment, thanks." With that, the man left.

"Food’s ready, Mr. Todoroki," Sero said in a teasing tone behind him, making a silly face while messing with the guy's hair to annoy him. The rest of their friends burst into clean laughter that echoed throughout the place.

"You’re a dick—" Shouto complained, frowning as he subtly fixed his hair and stood up to head toward the grill. Katsuki followed. After finishing the cookies and fruit, he still felt a hole in his stomach that only two burgers and fries could fill.

The rest of the guys followed, forming a line behind the grill and cheerfully telling the waiters what they wanted. Katsuki was second in line and stared predatorily at the meats cooking on the grill. The truth was, he’d always been a big eater, and since starting judo, his portions had doubled, so he ate a lot. He just hoped the food would last. The girls were in charge of packing the food, so he wasn’t sure how much they’d brought.

He looked at Todoroki walking to his spot with a decorative disposable plate featuring balloons and colors, with a hamburger and fries, and his gaze briefly shifted towards the pool, where he found Izuku still submerged in it, his arms out of the water while he typed something on his phone, clearly uninterested in the food.

Katsuki frowned.

"Sir?"

The man’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts, and he turned to pay attention.

"What would you like, sir?"

"Two hamburgers with fries, please," he said, a bit absent-minded. He waited for his food and went straight to his lounge chair, where he sat to eat calmly, his eyes still following Izuku's movements, somehow hoping the guy would eventually get out of the pool and join the line. But the line was shortening, everyone was sitting down, and Izuku seemed to be doing anything but that.

The last to go was Mina, and he blinked in confusion when he saw her walk toward the pool with two plates in her hands.

She crouched down to leave a plate with a hamburger, no fries, by the poolside and waited for Izuku to look at her so she could give him a look that Katsuki couldn’t quite decipher. Then she mouthed something inaudible, but he easily read her lips.

Eat.

Izuku seemed to shrink under the order but nodded meekly, set his phone aside, and walked to the stairs to get out of the pool, grab his plate, and join them, sitting in an empty chair.

"Hey, so... I was thinking we could play Uno and then open the gifts and cut the cake," Mina said before taking a bite of her burger.

Hatsume pointed a finger at her from her seat while sipping her soda. "Girl, Uno makes me feral."

"Everyone," Kirishima said, chewing, "But you all better let me win, it’s my birthday."

"Not a chance, loser," Sero teased, tossing a fry at him.

"I’ll kick your ass," the redhead said simply and took a sip of his drink.

The conversation went on with teasing and more laughter until everyone finished eating (Izuku barely nibbling at half of his burger) and decided to jump in the pool. Katsuki hesitated at first, reluctant as he was, but eventually gave in to Mina and Izuku’s pleas. Someone had brought an air lounge chair that served as a temporary table for the cards, which luckily were laminated.

They set up rounds of 10 people, while six waited for their turn, with lots of shouting, small hits, and near-drowning attempts, but Katsuki had a blast. He might not have won any rounds, but he had managed to ruin someone’s life at least once, and that was more than enough.

By the time the sunset started, they all decided to get out of the pool to open the presents.

Mina had, of course, shown off the most with a pair of very expensive new combat gloves that Kirishima had apparently been drooling over since January. Katsuki had played it safe with a Crimson Riot shirt, his favorite superhero, considering that he had only known the guy for a few months. They had become close, but Katsuki didn’t feel like he knew him well enough yet, so he was wary of buying something he might not like, unlike the rest of his friends who seemed much more confident with their gifts, ranging from new headphones to discount coupons for specific stores.

Kirishima had been especially thankful and touched by every gift from his friends, so much so that he had started crying at some point during the afternoon, and Mina had to console him. Katsuki had felt moved in a way too. Especially when, after cutting the cake, they started taking photos, and Kirishima dragged him into every single one of them like they were lifelong friends.

"Guys, I really— Mina—" Kirishima was crying, his lashes covered in icing, his face buried in the girl’s neck and chest.

"Alright, alright," she gently patted his back while suppressing a silly giggle, "We’re doing it because we love you."

The redhead nodded, sniffling and wiping his nose on the girl’s shirt. By then, everyone had changed into clean clothes, and the waiters had taken their things to the cars, so they were just spending one last moment there for Kirishima to stop crying so they could go home. Katsuki smiled quietly; it had indeed been a good day. It was already past eight.

Kirishima stood up. Mina gently cupped his face in her hands, using a napkin to clean the cake remnants from his eyes and cheeks, then kissed his forehead. The guy was still sobbing quietly.

"It’s time to go," she whispered, taking his hand and signaling to everyone to start walking toward the building that led to the pool area. "Izuku, tomorrow Kiri and I are going out, so I’ll need you to—"

"I’m not going to the dorms today, Mina," Izuku called out from behind, his voice loud enough for the girl to hear him up ahead through the dark path lined with bushes. "Haitani’s coming to pick me up."

"Oh— okay," she replied simply, a slightly odd tone in her voice, Katsuki would say it sounded like annoyance. When they spotted the building, a bellboy was waiting at the door, and once everyone was inside, he led them to the lobby.

"But," Izuku continued, catching up to the pink-haired girl and bumping into Katsuki in the process. The guy turned around, apologetic. "Oh— sorry, Kacchan," he then turned back to Mina and gently took her arm. "But my room’s open, if you need anything, you can take it."

The girl just nodded. "Thanks, Izuku."

The green-haired guy kissed her cheek and quickly hugged Kirishima. "Haitani’s outside, so I have to go. See you tomorrow— Happy birthday, Kiri." He walked ahead to the revolving door and stepped out into the cool night air.

But when Katsuki and the others stepped out, Izuku was still standing there, visibly uncomfortable, with Haitani beside him, speaking on the phone a little further away.

Ochako walked up to him and whispered something that Katsuki couldn’t hear, as they waited for the valets to bring the cars so they could finally leave. Izuku stiffened and adjusted his hair, trying to hide it, while leaning in to whisper something back to the girl. Two minutes later, Haitani finished his call and returned to Izuku. A smile that Katsuki found completely fake spread across his face as he kissed Ochako on the cheek and then placed a hand around Izuku’s back, pulling him towards the rest of the group.

“Hey,” the dark-haired man said, still with that friendly smile, offering a fist bump and exchanging shoulder slaps with the guys, cheek kisses with the girls.

By now, it was more than obvious to Katsuki that something was going on between him and Izuku.

The question was, why had Izuku denied it?

“Bakugou,” he said, without a fist bump or a slap, just looking at him from his height and keeping Izuku close to his side.

“Haitani,” the blonde responded, nodding in his direction and absentmindedly holding his backpack with one hand. He could feel Izuku’s gaze on him, anxious and trembling.

“I don’t think we properly introduced ourselves last time,” the man said, extending his arm with a smile. “Since you’re my boyfriend’s new friend, I think we should introduce ourselves properly.”

Katsuki smiled back, a wide, bright smile, as he gave a firm, confident handshake.

“Of course, nice to meet you again,” he said, with a mischievous grin that honestly, he didn’t know where it came from, and his eyes briefly settled on Izuku, whose eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his head.

However, at that moment, his view was blocked by Haitani’s messy, jet-black hair as he leaned down to kiss Izuku, a kiss that clearly seemed to be marking his territory.

Katsuki raised an eyebrow with boredom, but at the same time, he couldn’t deny it, envy.

Poor Izuku was choking right in front of him, but unfortunately, there was nothing he could do to help him.

A few seconds later, the guy pulled away from Haitani with a gasp that screamed for help and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his cheeks and ears bright red like ripe strawberries, as he grabbed Haitani’s arm and pulled him toward the truck, trying to escape for his life.

Katsuki just watched Izuku’s face and couldn’t help but imagine the expressions of the others after that whole scene.

The worst part was that he didn’t even understand what had happened.

“It was good to see you guys,” Haitani said as he waved goodbye and walked towards the truck, letting Izuku lead him. Once Izuku let go to get in, he circled the car, and Haitani got in on the driver’s side. “Hope to see you at UT next year!”

The engine roared to life like the sound of rain, and the last thing Katsuki saw of Izuku was the distressed look on his face as the car disappeared into the distance.

Chapter Text

"And one, and two, and three, and four! Grand jeté, two, three—Midoriya, you're going too fast!" Miss Nagant clapped with every count she called out, taking one step closer each time, following the choreography with her sharp, meticulous eye that missed nothing and saw everything. Izuku wobbled as he landed from the air, coming down from his grand jeté with his scolding ringing in his ear and doing his best to follow the choreography as cleanly as possible.

He'd been there since four in the afternoon, and by then it was already eleven at night. Even though he had arrived full of energy, seven hours of rehearsals and seventeen hours of being awake on a Friday had finally started to wear him down. His whole body ached, sore and bruised all over. He probably was bruised all over.

The rehearsals kept demanding more and more from him, school was getting heavier by the day, and his life seemed to be growing more serious with every month that passed. As his eighteenth birthday loomed closer, the vortex ahead felt bigger and darker, threatening to swallow him whole and erase all trace of what had once been his childhood.

"Hold her like you actually want to do it!" she shouted in his face, furious, following him closely as he focused on cradling poor Pony with the delicacy of someone handling a porcelain doll, yet with enough strength to make her feel secure. She spun in his arms and he danced around her, then leapt across the stage in a series of jumps before returning to her.

Izuku wanted to cry.

He wanted to cry because he genuinely didn’t know what was going on. Not with himself, not with the world around him.

It was like suddenly everything was too much, and everything he used to be familiar with now felt new, foreign, and strange. Miss Nagant’s yelling, which he could usually handle with an unreadable face and steel-like composure, now felt too personal—like it was meant to break him in two. The noise, the music, even the fabric of the tights and leotard against his skin.

The cold air coming through the window.

The sweat trickling down his temple, and the dull ache in his stiff joints.

Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he hadn’t eaten since noon the day before.

But he couldn’t help it—he’d weighed himself Monday after Kirishima’s party and had gained 800 grams. That was too much. Almost two pounds. He didn’t even know where it came from; he’d barely eaten half a burger. He was livid.

So he’d been half-eating, sometimes throwing up, because Mina and Ochako wouldn’t leave him alone during breakfast and dinner. Crucify him—his life was hard.

And on top of everything, it was nearly impossible to focus on the things he wanted to do when his mind was constantly overloaded with a thousand things at once. The thought of Haitani sleeping with other people wouldn’t leave his head, like a mental intruder he couldn’t shake no matter how hard he tried to distract himself—even if he tried to sleep with others himself to get the damn thorn out of his chest. It was exhausting to have his mood constantly tied to just one person, even if that had been the case for the past two years.

Haitani, despite being the one who had suggested the open relationship, continued to be just as demanding—calling him and expecting immediate replies, showing up unannounced, marking his territory like a dog and not allowing Izuku to actually claim his "open" part of the relationship. And part of that secretly satisfied Izuku with a twisted sense of joy, which would then tear him apart all over again once the intrusive thoughts came flooding back. Because he wasn’t stupid. Izuku didn’t need to see it to know Haitani was sleeping with other people. Why else would he have proposed that kind of arrangement?

"That assemblé was disgusting, Midoriya!"

Enough.

The pressure was starting to crawl under his skin like tiny, writhing insects feeding on his dreams and hopes. He wasn’t doing enough. He wasn’t rehearsing enough. He wasn’t going to be enough for the audition. Hundreds of people would show up and do better than him, and Tokyo University of the Arts didn’t hand out second chances.

And then, there was Kacchan.

Lately, he’d been talking to him so much that he’d given up sleep just to keep texting into the early hours of the morning, using the excuse that they were keeping each other company while studying.

Kacchan was visibly stressed, too. UT entrance exams were no joke for anyone, and although he’d once said he was applying to several universities, they all required an insane amount of sacrifice. Izuku didn’t know exactly (because they talked about everything except personal stuff) what the blond wanted for his career, or what his parents expected of him—so he just watched him suffer in silence. Waking up before dawn, going to bed long after midnight, always stuck in a fight-or-die mindset that, much to Izuku’s discomfort, often reminded him of himself.

And on top of all that, Izuku had to admit—there was something about the guy that really caught his attention.

It wasn’t just how natural and effortless things felt between them—it also seemed like time and circumstance sometimes aligned in their favor. They talked non-stop, laughed at everything, and their social circle had pretty much become one and the same. Himiko had adapted surprisingly well to the dance club, and Ochako seemed to be one step away from falling for her (if she hadn’t already). Izuku loved being around Katsuki, and he was, for the first time in a long while, one of his favorite people—right after Haitani.

Plus, there was no denying he was attracted to him.

It wasn’t exactly a secret—or an isolated observation—that Katsuki was good-looking. He was strong and pleasant to be around, even if he had his cranky grandpa moments. Izuku sometimes caught himself staring too long, waiting for a message from him, or maybe talking too much about him in private to Mina or Ochako—and they’d noticed, too, always making a big deal out of it. Lately, and against his better judgment, he’d found himself thinking more and more about Ochako’s suggestion that he should try dating him. It was a bold idea, and one that sounded ridiculous considering how not his type Kacchan supposedly was… but it was starting to sound more tempting by the day.

Of course, more and more people were starting to notice Katsuki, too.

And it wasn’t like Kacchan would ever say yes anyway. He thought Izuku and Haitani were serious.

In theory, they were.

What would Kacchan think about his open relationship with Haitani?

"If you keep this up, Midoriya, I’ll give your role to someone else. What you're giving me is mediocre, and I’m being nice."

Izuku snapped out of it, his eyes wide and his face draining of color as he came back to reality and realized he was being publicly humiliated. Again.

He inhaled through clenched teeth.

"I’m sorry, Miss Nagant, it won’t hap—"

"Happen again?" she cut him off sharply, her angry, crushing gaze locked on him. "You’ve been saying that for two weeks, and I hate to break it to you, but I don’t have your time. This performance needs to be flawless—it’s what keeps the studio’s name afloat. Let me remind you that important people will be watching." She placed her hands on her hips. "And it’s a pre-test for your TUA audition. If that’s the best you can give them, you might as well start looking into accounting at a public university."

Izuku clenched his fists, eyes on the floor—and his dignity even lower. He nodded.

"You’re dismissed. See you Monday." Miss Nagant dismissed them in that same strict tone, and the green-haired boy turned at once, hurrying to change out of his clothes—ripping off the wrap and throwing on his pants and coat in a desperate rush.

"Midoriya..." Pony said, approaching from behind and trying to touch his shoulder, but too afraid to actually do it. He threw his backpack over one shoulder and wiped away the tears falling down his face—his back still to her—before bolting out of the studio without saying a single word.

Outside, Haitani was waiting in his truck.

The younger crossed the street without really looking and got into the car, discreetly wiping his face with the collar of his sweater. Haitani was laughing, apparently amused by something funny on his phone.

“God, these idiots…” he said, running a hand through his hair, tousled by the cold night air. It took him about a minute to notice Izuku, who was still silently swallowing his tears next to him. “Hey, babe.”

Izuku turned to look at him, barely managing a small, weary smile. “Hey, love.”

Haitani gently brushed his knuckles against the back of Izuku’s neck and grinned, cheerful and oblivious, leaning in to kiss him on the lips.

Izuku kissed him back, trying to find some comfort in the contact, but instead catching a trace of a sweet perfume lingering in the air around the man—something that only made his stomach churn.

“Ready?” Haitani asked as he pulled away, not even bothering to check the discontent on Izuku’s face or to ask how things had gone. Izuku’s expression twisted slightly, but he nodded.

“Ready.”

Haitani started the engine and drove off into the always-busy streets of downtown Tokyo, chatting about something with his soccer team—how one of his teammates had been replaced because of a busted knee, and it was a big deal with important matches coming up. Something, too, about how Shigaraki (Izuku couldn’t place the name at first, but remembered five minutes into the conversation—it was the university rep) thought highly of him and was considering sponsoring him for the big leagues. He was even seriously thinking about talking to Charlie about going pro. Izuku only managed to retain about half of it. The other half of his mind was still stuck in that rehearsal room, humiliated by Miss Nagant for his mediocre performance. Still, he nodded and responded just enough so that Haitani wouldn’t notice how distracted he was. After all, this was something Haitani was excited to share, and he didn’t deserve to be listened to half-heartedly.

When they got to the dark-haired boy’s house, the lights were off and everything was neatly in place, a sign that everyone had gone to their rooms a while ago. Haitani’s house had always been that way: simple but strict rules left by his father before he passed. Dinner at 7:30. Everything up by 8. If anyone came home after 10, they did so as quietly as possible. And on top of that, the house was so big that you could barely hear one wing from another. Izuku secretly appreciated that—it meant fewer run-ins with the family.

“Izuku,” Haitani breathed against his ear, his large hands running over him desperately.

It was always like that with Haitani.

If they saw each other, sex was almost always expected. It was this unspoken agreement they’d just… settled into. If time and place allowed, sex was part of the visit. Haitani was rough and careless, and Izuku usually found that hot, but when he was in a certain kind of mood—like tonight—it wasn’t particularly appealing. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to respond to his touches with the same passion, but he couldn’t help that his movements gave away his lack of enthusiasm.

Haitani froze mid-kiss, half pulling off his sweater, and stepped back to look at him. His brow furrowed and irritation clear on his face.

“What’s wrong, Izuku?”

The boy shrank under his gaze and bit his lip, suddenly nervous.

“I… I’m just not feeling very well.”

The man’s frown deepened.

“We haven’t seen each other all week,” he pointed out, like the course of action should be obvious. “Don’t you miss me?”

Izuku nodded, blushing deeply and instantly regretting having even considered saying no—implying that he hadn’t missed him. He wrapped his arms around Haitani’s neck, looking up at him with teary eyes.

“Of course I do—baby, I—”

“I get it.”

Haitani pulled away.

And Izuku felt his entire world shatter.

“No—Haitani—” the boy reached for him, taking hold of his arm and face, kissing him with renewed passion, moaning softly against his lips. “I’m sorry. Please… take me.”

The other seemed to consider it for a second, but his gaze was starting to cloud over with lust again.

“I need you. Please,” Izuku begged.

The taller man wrapped his hands around him like snakes, pulling him close until there wasn’t a sliver of space left between them. Heat began pooling in Izuku’s belly, dizzying his head as he pulled off his sweater.

Sleeping with Haitani had always been a rollercoaster for Izuku. The first time had been rough and raw, with him completely lost and nervous—and Haitani not being the best guide. The times after, he had been too anxious, and it had taken quite a few attempts for him to even start to relax, and to learn how to take the initiative sometimes. But over time, he’d educated himself—figured out how to satisfy the man. He thought he’d been doing well all this time.

He thought.

Not well enough, is all he can think, as the man slides down his leotard along his bare back and settles him in his lap on the bed.

***

Katsuki was halfway through his bowl of rice when the bedroom door opened and Izuku walked into the room looking disheveled, defeated, and downcast.

It was exactly 11:43, according to the wall clock, and he wondered—not out of nosiness but genuine curiosity—what could have left the poor guy like that so early on a Saturday.

He hadn’t even spent the night there.

Not that he was keeping track, but last night they’d all watched a movie in the common room, and his familiar mop of green hair hadn’t been around, bothering everyone like usual.

Katsuki kept eating, assuming the guy wasn’t in the mood for greetings, and watched from afar as he stepped into the elevator just as Mina spotted him from the dining room and called his name. The boy waved, a gesture that screamed not-now-please, and she went quiet, clearly confused, watching the elevator doors close behind him.

Weird.

They chatted for a while longer, and when he was done eating and had washed his bowl, he sat on the couch for a bit, scrolling through his phone. He had nothing special planned for the day. Himiko hadn’t said anything about going out, and honestly, he was exhausted, so all he wanted was a day of sweet, sweet rest—and maybe a bit of studying.

He was distracted watching a video on how to make the perfect poached eggs when he noticed someone beside him. He turned slowly and found Mina watching his screen without an ounce of shame for snooping.

“That looks weird,” she said, frowning slightly, curious. “I don’t know how to do that.”

Katsuki blinked. “It’s a poached egg.”

The girl nodded and leaned forward a little, peering around the blond’s head. “Can you make that, Kiri?”

“Nope,” Kirishima replied solemnly from the other side.

Katsuki turned to him, now genuinely worried.

“What’s going on?” he asked, confused.

“Oh, we’re on a mission,” Mina said, circling the couch and sitting on the coffee table in front of him. She pulled it close until she was eye-level with him and patted the space beside her, motioning for her boyfriend to sit too.

Katsuki raised an eyebrow at them.

“Kiri told me you’re not planning to dress up for Halloween,” Mina started again, crossing her legs and placing her hands on her knees like a shrink. “I’d like to know why that is.” And she sounded just like one.

He looked from the redhead to the pink girl.

“I haven’t dressed up since I was seven.”

“And?” Mina pressed.

“Well—I haven’t really thought—”

“You have to dress up!” she burst out, unable to hold it any longer. She grabbed his arms and gave him a little shake, pouting. Katsuki rolled his eyes.

“I’m really not good at that stuff, you know?”

“Bakubro, we’ll help you,” Kirishima chimed in with a sharp smile and a thumbs-up. Mina nodded eagerly.

“Please, you can’t not dress up and skip the party. It’s gonna be epic.”

Katsuki seemed to think for a moment.

“So, what do you two suggest I dress up as?”

“Oh, I’ve got it covered,” Mina said, pulling out her phone and typing at lightning speed. Kirishima just watched her with a goofy smile on his face.

“You really went along with this?” Katsuki asked, shooting them both a skeptical look. Kirishima raised his hands like he was innocent.

“No, bro! They just showed up and said they had the perfect idea and that—maybe if I—”

“Shh!” Mina hushed him and practically shoved her phone in Katsuki’s face. “Joker.”

Katsuki stared at the screen for a moment, considering it. The idea didn’t totally disgust him, but it did feel a little cliché. Joker was trendy—lots of people would be going as Joker. On one hand, that made getting the costume easy. On the other, he didn’t want to look like everyone else.

“I don’t know…” he started, unsure. “Isn’t the Joker kinda overdone?”

“Nonsense,” she cut him off. “I’m gonna make you look like the most badass Joker at the party.”

Well, that didn’t surprise him. It was Mina, after all. And it wasn’t like he wanted to overthink things. Screw it.

“Fine.”

The girl’s eyes lit up and she clenched her fists with excitement. “Yas!”

“What are you guys gonna dress up as, anyways?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“That’s a surprise,” she replied mysteriously, winking at him.

“So you all get to know what I’m dressing up as, but I can’t know about yours? What kind of deal is that?”

“A fair one. You’ll see on Friday.” She stood up, dragging Kirishima with her. “We’re going to the mall tomorrow to get the costumes, so don’t make any plans.”

“Uh—okay, I guess.” The boy was honestly confused, but it wasn’t like there was much he could do. Then the pink-haired girl made her way to the dining room, stood right in the middle of it, and cupped her hands around her mouth to amplify her voice before shouting loud and clear:

“EVERYONE, STUDY SESSION NOW.”

Denki, who had been eating his breakfast on the carpet, leaning against the couch, replied half-heartedly, “Can I skip it?”

Mina turned to him with her hands on her hips. “No. No one can skip it. Especially you.”

“Rude.”

“Everyone bring your workbooks here. See you in five minutes.”

There was a collective sigh and the rest of their classmates scattered toward their rooms to grab whatever the girl had asked for. Katsuki figured that since no one complained or objected, it must have been because they were genuinely worried about the upcoming entrance exam—or they really had nothing better to do. But he leaned heavily toward the first option. He himself felt like there was a ticking clock in his head, the second hand clicking away and putting his nerves on edge.

He headed up the stairs to his room. He actually enjoyed the extra bit of exercise, so he didn’t mind taking the stairs from time to time. He grabbed his exam prep guide—a pretty thick book that covered twelve full subjects in detail. He also took a pencil, a pen, and an eraser. And when he stepped out of his room, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a bit stunned to find Izuku closing his own door, books, notebooks, and pencil case in hand.

The greenette smiled at him kindly, still with those dark circles under his eyes but a softer expression compared to how he looked earlier when he arrived at the dorms. He was also freshly showered and changed. He raised a hand in greeting and walked toward Katsuki, nudging him with his shoulder playfully to get him to start walking toward the stairs, which Katsuki did awkwardly, almost on autopilot.

“Hey, Kacchan.” Izuku held his things close to his chest, looking down toward the stairs as they headed to the first floor.

“Hey, Izuku,” Katsuki replied, spinning his pencil compulsively in his hand while his eyes kept going to the side of the other boy’s neck, where a few purple hickeys stood out. “Didn’t think you’d come down,” he added, trying to keep the conversation going.

“Mina texted me,” Izuku explained. “I don’t really need to study for the entrance exam, but I do need to study for finals, and I don’t have anything better to do.”

Katsuki stayed silent until they reached the dining room, where everyone else was already seated, spread out between the table and the bar.

“Oh, Izuku,” Ochako said, nibbling on her pencil and raising a hand so he could see her. She pointed to an empty seat between her and Mina. “We saved you a spot.”

Izuku smiled one last time and walked around the table to join them, setting down his things and taking a seat a moment later. Katsuki turned to Kirishima, who was waving him over to sit beside him. He sat down.

“Okay, since most of us seem to be struggling with calculus, I think we should start there,” Mina said, placing both hands on the table and opening her workbook.

Yaomomo nodded from her seat and added, “I’m doing pretty well in calculus, so if anyone needs help, feel free to ask me.”

Todoroki nodded from the other end of the table, where he seemed to be in a slap fight with Sero. “I—I’m good at it too.”

Mina nodded his way in thanks, then turned to look at Katsuki, silently asking with her eyes.
He was the other one who was good at calculus.

He looked around the table for a moment, then met Mina’s gaze again. She was almost pouting. He sighed.

“…Me too.”

The girl grinned.

“Perfect. Let’s get to work.”

With that, everyone focused on solving the math problems in the guidebook. And they were hard. If Katsuki said they were hard, it was because they really were. If this was the kind of stuff they were going to be tested on, things were going to get intense.

Katsuki did his best to focus on the numbers in front of him and tried to ignore the tiredness sitting at the base of his skull. Outside, the day was partly sunny, and the wind tapped lightly against the windows, just enough to lull him into a daze. He had to lean on the table harder than necessary to snap himself out of it, shaking his head in a move that only made him dizzier. He grabbed his pencil and started scribbling quick answers in the margins of his book, trying to quickly decode the letters and numbers of the problems he was reading. He couldn’t believe it was barely the start of November and he already felt this exhausted.

He looked up. The truth was, the rest of his classmates didn’t look much better. Bored and confused expressions across the board.

Except Izuku.

Izuku didn’t just look bored and confused—he also looked completely worn out.

They hadn’t really talked much that week, unlike how they had been doing for a while now. Not in person, not even over text. He’d seen him in class, but at lunch, Izuku seemed to vanish into thin air. After school, the guy was always rushing off to ballet practice, so Katsuki never saw him leave the building. And since he’d been busy studying, he didn’t notice when Izuku got back at night either.

He vaguely wondered if everything was okay with him.

***

“So, what do you think?”

“I think Alice is pretty cute.”

“But Barbie’s iconic, right?”

“Yeah, that too.”

“Can you stop agreeing with everything I say?”

“No.” Katsuki stifled a dumb little laugh as he turned the steering wheel to exit the parking lot.

“Kats! I’m being serious here.” His sister hit him in the arm and pouted at him. “Be objective.”

He gave it some thought.

“Barbie’s cute, but she’s not really your type. Alice fits your personality better.”

She nodded thoughtfully, still looking at something on her phone. “Okay. Alice it is.”

The boy nodded back silently, eyes fixed on the road.

He hadn’t seen much of his sister for the past three weeks. According to her, she’d been “busy with popular girl stuff”—organizing her campaign for class president, leading events, catching up with club activities. Katsuki was genuinely glad Himiko had adapted so well to U.A. and Tokyo in general, so he tried not to interfere too much in her life or hold her back with overprotective big brother stuff. But still, he had to admit—he missed her sometimes. Ever since they moved into the dorms, he didn’t see her as often as when they lived together and had no choice but to bump into each other on the way to school and at dinner time.

“How are you, Himiko?” he asked, trying to break the ice and sound as casual as possible while stopping at a red light. In the rearview mirror, he saw Todoroki’s car stop right behind his.

She looked at him with a neutral expression, not uncomfortable, just calm. “I’m fine, big bro. Why do you ask?”

He shrugged. “We haven’t really seen each other lately.”

She seemed to think about it for a moment. “I guess we’ve both been busy.”

Katsuki nodded in agreement, then added, “I heard you’re running for class president.” She gave him a wide, wicked grin.

“Oh, that. I’m going to crush those worms.”

“No doubt,” he replied—and there wasn’t a hint of sarcasm in his voice. He meant it. Himiko had always been born under her own star. She shifted in her seat, gave him a thoughtful look, then crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at him.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“What’s new?”

“With what?”

She rolled her eyes. “With everything, Katsuki.”

He started driving again and swallowed hard, because he had a pretty good idea where this was going. “Everything’s fine.”

“What about Izuku?” she asked, like it was nothing.

Katsuki stiffened from head to toe.

“What about him?” he shot back, stupidly.

“I don’t know, I thought maybe something had happened—but I guess not,” Himiko looked at him sideways with renewed interest as she tucked her hair behind her ears, and Katsuki felt himself start to blush, from his neck all the way up to his face, while trying to keep his eyes on the road. “It’s just that Ochako mentioned you two had been spending time together.”

Katsuki frowned slightly. “We… yeah, a little. We get along.”

“Would you say you’re good friends?” she pressed, her amber eyes glowing in the sunlight.

“We’re good classmates, yeah.” He turned up the volume on the radio a bit, hoping to steer the conversation away, but it didn’t seem to kill her curiosity.

“Classmates,” she repeated. “Got it.”

“Why’d Uraraka tell you that, anyway?” he asked a bit abruptly—though he hadn’t meant to sound so harsh, so he cleared his throat to smooth it over while pressing the gas pedal again.

“We talk about a lot of things,” she shrugged like it was nothing, but a devilish smile spread across her lips. “Sometimes you or Izuku just come up.”

He made a vague noise of acknowledgment before adding, “And what else do you two talk about?”

Now it was Himiko’s turn to blush all the way to her ears—but her smile just grew wider.

“Nothing for you to worry about, brother.”

He looked at her for a moment before turning his eyes back to the road, pulling the car into the mall parking lot, suddenly embarrassed for no real reason.

“Himiko…”

“Nothing to worry about, Katsuki, don’t even go there.” She shook her head solemnly while patting his shoulder as he tried to park.

In the end, he figured it was best not to say anything else.

By the time they got out of the car, the others were already walking toward them—laughing and chatting—as they headed for the escalators from the basement to the mall’s ground floor.

“This costume shop is one of the biggest in Tokyo,” Shinsou said as he pulled a chip out of the bag in his hand and popped it into his mouth, everyone riding the escalator up. Next to him, Jirou stole one and bit into it.

“And probably one of the cheapest too. Or at least I hope so, because I don’t have much of a budget. My parents cut back on my allowance after the move.”

“We can always hit up some secondhand stores if not,” Yaomomo suggested from a step above.

“Does everyone already know what they’re dressing up as?” Mina asked as they walked through the wide-open space of the mall, some talking in pairs, others distracted by the store windows. A few voices answered confidently, others less so.

“But don’t tell me!” she added quickly. “We should all keep it a secret until the party. That way, it’ll be more mysterious!” She waved her hands in a dramatic, wavy motion and kept walking, Kirishima, Ochako, and Izuku beside her.

“Remember that time we dressed up as E.T. and Elliot?” Himiko asked, giggling behind her hands, and Katsuki scratched the back of his neck, a little embarrassed.

“Honestly, Dad really outdid himself with that costume,” Katsuki muttered, a wave of fast, nostalgic memories flashing through his mind. Mina turned to look at them, eyes wide, hands clasped together like in prayer.

“You guys dressed up as E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial!?” she gasped, delighted.

“I was E.T., Katsuki was Elliot,” Himiko said with an angelic smile, just as Izuku, Ochako, and Kirishima turned around too and pulled them into their little group and conversation. Mina hooked an arm around each of their shoulders and hugged them like they were her favorite people in the world.

“Oh my god! That must’ve been adorable. Any pictures?”

“Of course—” Himiko began, but Katsuki cut her off immediately.

“No way.”

“Oh, come on! How old were you guys?”

“Six—four,” the siblings answered at the same time. Mina looked like she might pass out from cuteness overload.

“Himiko-chan’s totally bringing me those pictures.” The girl nodded in defiance of her brother’s will just as they stepped through the entrance to the costume shop.

The store was pretty big inside, with colorful aisles labeled by letters and types of accessories. The first thing to greet them at the entrance was a giant Pennywise that looked way too real for comfort. Katsuki couldn’t resist touching it out of curiosity—but instantly jumped when the figure let out a creepy, booming laugh that echoed through the entire store. Denki laughed at him mockingly.

Everyone quickly split up into pairs or small groups, clearly with solid ideas in mind. Himiko grabbed his arm and gently tugged him toward section “A.”

Finding Himiko’s costume had been relatively easy. It was a popular, recognizable outfit, so they found several different versions hanging on the racks—each one unique in its own way. Plus, the store had fitting rooms, so Himiko tried on the two she liked most and showed them to Katsuki, taking advantage of the fact that no one else seemed to be using the dressing area at that moment.

If Katsuki had to be objective, he’d say it suited her perfectly. The dress looked like it had been tailored just for her, and the pastel blue fabric made her pale skin pop. The white apron had pockets, which was a bonus. He didn’t know why exactly, but he knew women’s clothes often didn’t have pockets—and Himiko had ranted to him about that a hundred times. Plus, the skirt flared out around her waist like a princess dress, and he couldn’t help thinking how cute she looked.

“You look really good, Himiko,” he said, trying not to sound too biased. “Alice was definitely the right choice.”

She eyed herself in the full-length mirror for a second before nodding. “You’re right. I’ll take it.” And with that, she went back into the fitting room. Well, that was fast.

While he waited, a loud burst of laughter echoed through the store, and he turned to see, four aisles down, a mess of green hair bouncing with amusement as he held up a costume package he couldn’t quite make out. Mina and Ochako were laughing along with him.

Himiko called him over, saying it was time to look for his costume.

“The Joker?” she said, holding up a red suit complete with a green shirt and yellow vest. The price tag dangled from one sleeve—absurdly high and way too fancy.

“Oh—forget it. I’m not paying that much for a stupid costume. I thought this place was cheap.” He took the hanger from her hand and put it back where it belonged, then started walking away.

“Wait!” Himiko grabbed his arm and pulled him back. “I’ve got Dad’s card—money’s not a problem. Mina’s idea is perfect, I’m just trying to figure out how you’d look with green hair and how we’d style it.”

“Dad’s card isn’t the solution to everything, Himiko,” Katsuki said with a blank expression.

“Yes, it is,” she argued, grabbing the costume again with one hand and lifting the black plastic credit card with the other. “Come on, try it on.”

He squinted at her for a moment, but finally took the costume from her. He adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose. “Okay.”

As he walked toward the fitting rooms, he passed Denki pulling on an orange jumpsuit over his clothes in the middle of an aisle. Honestly, Katsuki had no clue what character that was supposed to be, so he didn’t think much of it.

Once he was changed, he peeked around the curtain to make sure it was just Himiko waiting before stepping out. He looked at himself in the mirror and tried to imagine his hair dyed green and his face painted—but he couldn’t quite picture the whole thing.

“Exactly,” Himiko said, stepping up behind him and nodding in approval with her arms crossed. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

He looked at her through the mirror, confused.

She looked back at him like he was an idiot.

“Don’t you see the potential?”

“For what?”

“For all the people you could hit on!”

Katsuki blinked.

“Forget it, let's go before they see us,” she urged, pushing him back into the fitting room. Once inside, she looked at him with serious eyes and a furrowed brow. “Do you have dress shoes in your bedroom?” He nodded. “Good, those will work. I’ll meet you at the register.” And with that, she was gone.

Katsuki vaguely wondered where the others were and why he hadn’t run into anyone besides Denki yet, but his question was answered when he left the fitting room and paid more attention to his surroundings. Not only was the store huge, but there were several fitting rooms—one in each corner, to be exact—and he figured the others might have stayed in the other cubicles. He was actually thankful for that. It would’ve been chaos if everyone had decided to try on clothes in the same two rooms. On his way to the register, he bumped into Iida, who was empty-handed, and Tsuyu, who was already holding a shopping bag.

“Bakugou-san,” Tsuyu said cheerfully, glancing at the mesh bag the store provided, which held the costume, and in fact, it was heavy.

“Hey,” Katsuki replied, looking at the bag she was holding and then at Iida. “Are you guys done?”

Iida nodded before answering. “Tsuyu-chan already picked out her costume. I didn’t buy anything because I have the stuff for mine at the dorm.”

“I see,” he nodded and started walking toward the register. “See you in a bit, then.”

At the register, most of his classmates were already in line, along with a couple of other people, to pay for their clothes and accessories. Himiko was chatting happily with Ochako and Izuku. Katsuki hesitated to approach, but eventually, he did anyway.

“…And I don’t know, maybe they’ll replace me anyway,” Izuku said. A sad look and a defeated gesture on his face as he scratched his arm awkwardly.

“Bullshit! Nagant would have to be really incompetent to do that,” Ochako said, her arms crossed and her foot stomping against the floor. “You’re the best dancer they have, and if she wants to raise funds to keep teaching next year, she’ll have to put you in front, you and Pony.”
Izuku fell silent, lost in thought.

“Oh, there you are.” Himiko grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him over to join them in the conversation. Katsuki looked between them, a bit confused by what they were talking about, but uncomfortable with the tense and sad aura surrounding Izuku.

“Anyway,” Ochako turned to look at the guy and gently brushed a hand over his cheek in a motherly gesture. “You’ll do great at the recital, the audition, and regionals. But if you feel too much pressure, I think if you had to skip one commitment, Miss Nemuri wouldn’t have a problem excusing you this year.”

“I couldn’t do that.” Izuku immediately jumped in, shaking his head.

Ochako pressed her lips into a thin line, clearly dissatisfied, but didn’t push any further. She then turned back to Katsuki with a renewed smile.

“Did you find the costume you were looking for, Bakugou?”

“Uh, yeah.” He answered, feeling a bit uncomfortable without really understanding why. Maybe because his sister was hanging off the girl’s arm, her head resting on her shoulder. The whole scene felt surreal.

“Great.” She replied with that same smile, and then the line moved forward, so they all started moving.

After they paid, they walked slowly through the mall, joking around as they window-shopped, commenting on how expensive things were these days and how hard it was to save money without a job.

Katsuki couldn’t agree more as he stopped in front of a video game store, gazing longingly at the latest version of The Legend of Zelda that he hadn’t been able to buy because he already had so many unfinished games. The crude thought of asking Himiko for her dad’s card passed quickly through his mind, but he brushed it aside like an annoying fly before it could take root. He had his own money, although it wasn’t much.

“Katsuki, didn’t you say you wanted to buy some clothes last time?” Himiko’s voice pulled him back to reality a second later, coming from his left. He turned to look at her, trying to figure out what the hell she was talking about.

She was standing in front of the next store’s window, a sharp white smile on her face as she motioned for him to come over, with Izuku beside her.

In front of them were a bunch of mannequins dressed in clothes that frankly weren’t his style at all.

“N-”

“Of course! I think this is the perfect opportunity, since Izuku’s here. You could ask him for some fashion advice, because he has an incredible style,” his sister interrupted with a forced tone, grabbing the guy by the shoulders and turning him toward Katsuki like a ragdoll. Their other classmates took advantage of the situation, continuing to walk away and check out other stores. She then grabbed both of them by the hands and pulled them into the store. “Don’t you think so, Izuku? Katsuki has terrible taste.”

Katsuki pulled his hand away from her grip, his brow furrowed, and his lips pressed into a thin line. He glanced at himself as discreetly as he could to figure out what was wrong with his outfit: a basic oversized T-shirt under an open plaid shirt, a pair of jeans, and some Docs.
Izuku’s soft laugh made him turn his head.

“Don’t be like that with your brother, Himiko-chan.” The guy said with a seemingly innocent smile and a sweet tone, like sticky honey in every word. It wasn’t until then that Katsuki really looked him up and down.

He was wearing a crop top under a knitted sweater that exposed his flat stomach, paired with baggy jeans and chunky platform boots, all accessorized with bracelets and a black beret on his head. Also, his curls were styled adorably in perfect round waves.

His gaze then met Izuku’s, and suddenly, he felt the blood rush to his face at lightning speed.

“I need to pee,” his sister said a moment later, drawing both their attention as she walked away, slowly moving backward. “I’m going to the bathroom, okay? You guys pick out some clothes, hey, Dad’s paying.” With a smile, she turned around and ran off toward what Katsuki assumed were the store’s restrooms.

He stood still and silent for a minute before turning back to face Izuku’s gaze.

“Well…”

“I think you look good.” The other guy said out of nowhere, looking at him from below with big green eyes and long lashes. “You just need to add your own style to the clothes.” He then took his hand and pulled him toward the men’s section, beginning to critically examine each item. Katsuki couldn’t do anything but stand there, watching.

“For example, this.” Izuku continued, holding up a pair of items for him to see: a pair of straight-leg black pants, a sleeveless shirt, and a jacket. “This would be a good outfit. I think you have a nice physique, and you’re not taking full advantage of it. Why don’t you try it on?”
Katsuki struggled to avoid blushing and surprisingly managed to pull it off. He took the clothes and looked at them in his hand, a doubtful expression on his face as he weighed the idea. Izuku smiled at him encouragingly.

He adjusted his glasses and nodded, defeated. “Alright.”

They made their way to the fitting area, and Izuku gave him a couple of thumbs up before he disappeared behind the fitting room door. Katsuki quickly changed, feeling a bit uncomfortable in the tiny space, but managed to get through the process in under five minutes. When he came out, Izuku was sitting there, excitedly waiting.

“Oh.” That was all the guy said, his lips slightly parted and his expression unreadable.
Katsuki fidgeted uncomfortably under his gaze, standing in front of the mirror and adjusting the vinyl jacket over and over, not knowing what to do with his hands. “Uh, it doesn’t look much like me,” he said, trying to fill the silence with something, his eyes still fixed on his reflection. It didn’t look bad—I mean, it didn’t look terrible, in fact, it didn’t clash that much. His thick build gave the outfit a finishing touch that made it look almost like he’d been born in it, but there was something that kept him from fully feeling like himself in it. Maybe because he wasn’t used to those types of clothes. After all, he had grown up imitating his dad’s style. Still, he didn’t think it was all that terrible.

Izuku stood up and walked toward him. In fact, he got so close that Katsuki could feel his breath against the base of his neck. The next thing he felt was the warmth of Izuku’s hands sliding beneath the jacket onto his shoulders, gently removing it. Katsuki held his breath.
Once he had taken it off, he wrapped it around Katsuki’s waist and tied it with a firm knot.

“There,” the green-haired guy said, taking a couple of steps back to observe him from a distance. He smiled approvingly. “It looks much better this way.”

The blonde looked at himself in the mirror and hated to admit that the guy was right. He liked how he looked like this, something about his style seeping through just by changing that one detail.

“Better.” He whispered, almost smiling.

“You should take it,” the shorter guy said happily as he went back into the fitting room to change. It was then, as he pulled up his pants, that a thought struck him.

Where’s Himiko?

As he left the fitting room, he pressed the call button so quickly that his phone froze for a second.

She answered on the third ring.

“Katsuki!”

“Where are you, Himiko?”

“Me? I’m at home, duh.”

“Home? What do you mean, home?”

“Yeah, the guys were already in the parking lot, so I came with them. Since you and Izuku were busy.”

“What the hell are you talking about? YOU were the one who got us into this store in the first place!”

“Oopsie doopsie.”

“You’re insane.”

“A little bit of this, a little bit of that.”

Katsuki pressed the phone against his ear, sighed, and decided it wasn’t worth saying more, so he hung up. His confused face met Izuku’s, who had a giant question mark on his forehead.

“What’s going on?”

“They left without us.”

Izuku looked at him with a blank face.

“Oh.”

“Oh.” He repeated. Then walked over to the common basket and motioned to leave the clothes there, but Izuku ran up to him and stopped him by the arm.

“Wait! Aren’t you going to take it?”

Katsuki would be lying if he said he wasn’t in a bad mood now.

“No—no point, Izuku, I don’t need clothes right now—”

“It looks great on you, Kacchan,” the guy almost pleaded. “Take it and then we’ll go.”

The blonde thought for a moment but finally nodded. “Ok.”

By the time they paid and got into the car, it was already past six in the evening, and Katsuki’s stomach was growling fiercely for food. This didn’t help at all with his rising bad mood, and the traffic halfway there made things worse. Izuku was chatty, asking too many questions, singing, and so on.

“I- I want to apologize,” Izuku started in a tone that showed embarrassment as he tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. “For what happened on Saturday at Kirishima’s.”

Katsuki frowned, confused, and turned to look at him for a second while driving. “What do you mean, Izuku?”

The guy looked at him with big, puppy eyes. “About Haitani’s behavior.”

Oh, that.

“There’s nothing to apologize for, nothing happened.”

“Something did happen.” Izuku continued, “He can be territorial and rude like a dog sometimes, but don’t take it personally, he somehow thought there was something between... us.”

Katsuki swallowed and hit the brakes to stop at a red light.

“I don’t see why he’d get that idea,” he said, genuinely confused. He and Izuku had never behaved in ways that could lead to misunderstandings. Although, on the other hand, he had seen Izuku with other people in... romantic ways—how was that supposed to work if he was dating Haitani? Would it look bad to ask? He decided to take the risk. “Izuku, if Haitani is your boyfriend, who was that guy you were with at Yaomomo’s party?”

The green-haired guy blushed.

“Haitani and I are in an open relationship.”

Okay, that explained a lot.

But at the same time, it raised even more questions.

He decided he'd ask about it another time.

“I see.”

Izuku looked incredibly uncomfortable, but went on. “We—he’s my boyfriend in a serious way, but, you know, we’re allowed to date and sleep with other people.”

Sex.

Katsuki wasn’t sure why Izuku felt the need to clarify that part, but it struck him as both interesting and awkward. Honestly, it unsettled him.

“That’s… an interesting arrangement,” he said, genuinely not knowing what else to say as he started the car.

Izuku nodded. “What’s Musutafu like, Kacchan?” he asked, abruptly changing the subject so suddenly it caught Katsuki off guard. Now that he’d gotten that part out of the way, it was clear he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. And Katsuki wasn’t about to keep the topic alive. He told himself that was fine.

“It’s a nice place,” he began, turning down an avenue. “Quaint, pretty quiet.”

“Were you born there?”

“Yeah, my parents too.”

“When’s your birthday?”

“April 20th.”

“You’re…”

“Eighteen.”

Izuku seemed to do the math in his head, but kept his hands busy anyway.

“Shouldn’t you already be in college?” he asked, genuinely curious.

Katsuki nodded. “Yeah. I should.”

“You’re a year behind,” the green-haired boy pointed out, like it was obvious. Katsuki felt a tiny flame of irritation spark in his gut.

“Yeah. I lost a year.”

Izuku hesitated, but asked anyway. “Why?”

Katsuki stiffened in his seat, his whole body going rigid and his knuckles turning white from gripping the steering wheel too hard.

“That’s… personal, Izuku.”

The boy fidgeted with the paper bag in his hands and cleared his throat, trying to ease the tension.

“Right, I… I’m sorry.”

The rest of the drive went by in a silence so thick you could’ve cut it with a knife. Katsuki could feel the throb of an incoming headache pulsing at the base of his skull, warning him he’d need sleeping pills that night or he wouldn’t be able to close his eyes at all. He was starving, in a terrible mood, and even though none of it was Izuku’s fault, the guy had made him think about things he usually tried hard not to think about. When he got out of the car, he may have slammed the door a little too hard, and maybe he walked too fast and left Izuku behind, but he didn’t have the patience or will to deal with his mistakes right now. He’d worry about it tomorrow.

When he walked into the dorm, his roommates were having dinner in the common area, some watching something on TV, but he didn’t stop to say a word. He went straight up to his room and locked himself in to stew in his own misery until the next day, when he could distract himself enough to forget, forget, and forget.

***

Katsuki sighed as he stepped out of the bathroom, steam still clinging to his skin and a towel wrapped around his waist, eyes heavy like he hadn’t just taken a two-hour nap.

“Can you hurry up already? It’s nine-thirty.”

The poor guy jumped so hard he almost lost the towel, but caught it just in time. He stared at the three people sitting on his bed like they owned the place, looking completely unbothered in their over-the-top costumes.

Kirishima was dressed in a pretty damn good Spider-Man suit—No Way Home version, with the gold details and all. Mina was rocking a shiny black leather one-piece that looked a lot like Catwoman’s, complete with cat ears made of the same leather.

“What are you doing here?” he asked as calmly as he could, but he was low-key freaking out inside.

Himiko pointed to herself, then at Kirishima and Mina sitting beside her, giving him the most obvious look ever—like duh.

“The party, duh?”

Something clicked in his brain.

“Oh. Right. The party.”

His sister glared straight into his soul. “You forgot. You completely forgot and were off doing God knows what all day, passed out, and we had to come drag you out 'cause you weren’t answering your phone.”

He squinted at her. “You know I sleep like a rock.”

“Get dressed, we still have to do your makeup and hair, and everyone else is already there,” she ordered. Mina smiled at him, trying to soften the mood.

“It’s still early. Izuku and the others are already there, and they saved us a table.”

Bakugou looked at his closet, then at them, then back at his closet, not knowing how to ask them to leave so he could change. Himiko just threw her hands over her eyes and flopped face-down onto the bed, gesturing for the other two to do the same.

“We’ll turn around, don’t worry,” she said, though he still wasn’t too convinced. But she didn’t seem like she was gonna budge, so once the three of them were turned, he slipped on his boxers as fast as he could and ran to the closet to grab the costume and start putting it on. The whole thing took less than five minutes.

“Done.”

They turned around.

“Wow,” Mina sighed, clearly impressed.

“Hey,” Kirishima nudged her with a frown. She giggled in response.

“Come on, Kiri, you’re not gonna say he looks just fine?”

The guy tried to act tough for a second but ended up sighing dreamily too. “Yeah, damn.”

Katsuki blushed.

His sister stood up and guided him to sit at the edge of the bed, makeup and brush in hand. Mina got into position next to her. They stared at him thoughtfully.

“All right, here we go,” Mina said, grabbing the green hair dye and getting to work, while Himiko opened her makeup kits and started on his face.

Katsuki just hoped he didn’t end up looking like a clown.

By the time they were done, at least an hour had passed. The girls gave him a few final touch-ups, scrutinizing him like artists finishing a painting. Himiko bit her thumbnail as she adjusted a few parts of the makeup, and Mina ran her hands through his hair one last time.

“You’re all set,” Mina said, stepping back so he could walk to the mirror. “I think we outdid ourselves here, Himiko-chan.”

Himiko nodded. “A splendid job, Mina-chan.”

When Katsuki looked in the mirror, a man he didn’t recognize stared back at him.
And it wasn’t just the costume—something about him felt completely different.

The temporary dye had stuck well to his light-colored hair, so the green stood out sharply. Mina had styled it slicked back, like an 80’s Joker-meets-lawyer look. The makeup gave his face an unsettling, almost psychotic vibe that he couldn’t decide was good or bad. Either way, he definitely looked disturbed.

“Let’s go,” his sister urged, tugging him toward the door. He followed awkwardly, Mina and Kirishima behind them, and together they headed for the parking lot.

Traffic was insane for a Friday night, but Katsuki tapped into his most zen self to endure the drive across the city to the address Mina had sent him. The house wasn’t far, but it was in a busy neighborhood, which made traffic and wait times worse, so they didn’t arrive until after 10:30.

The house wasn’t as big as Momo’s, but it was spacious, with a wide front yard and two floors. Tons of cars were parked outside, and behind the neighbor’s wall, Katsuki could see someone literally flying through the air. He’d be lying if he said that didn’t raise a ton of questions in his mind.

Music blasted from inside, light pouring out through wide-open windows.

A guy in the tightest Captain America suit Katsuki had ever seen greeted them at the door. He recognized him from Yaomomo’s party—the guy with the funny face.

“Heeeeey, little grasshoppers! So glad you made it!” the dude slurred, clearly tipsy, his shield worn like a hat and a beer in hand. He stepped aside—barely keeping his balance—to let them in. “Go wild, don’t worry about what ends up online tomorrow—oh, awesome costumes! Dude, you’re the second Joker I’ve seen tonight!”

Katsuki fist-bumped him more out of courtesy than anything. Mina stepped in front of him and put a playful hand on the guy’s chest, giving him a daring look.

“But I bet our Joker’s better, Mirio.”

The guy—Mirio—laughed and raised his hands in surrender.

“Hey, the other Joker’s my captain, so I have to say he looks better.”

Mina rolled her eyes and just walked past. The rest followed, so Katsuki did too. He gently took Himiko’s arm so he could whisper in her ear.

“Keep your phone close tonight, in case we lose each other like last time,” he said, and she nodded silently. The music was deafening now that they were inside, the heat almost unbearable, and bodies crammed everywhere, making it harder and harder to move.

“Ochako says they’re out back!” Mina shouted, phone in hand, leading the way through the house toward the backyard.

Once outside, it wasn’t hard to spot their friends’ table. The yard was huge—big enough for several spacious round tables—and in one corner…

Was that a trampoline?

“Trampoliiiiiiine!” Himiko shrieked, pulling away from Katsuki and running toward it in clumsy little hops, her tutu bouncing with each step.

He was about to chase after her when Mina waved him over to sit. He gave his sister one last glance—she was now bouncing happily—and decided to relax a little, heading to the table. Then he took in everyone’s costumes.

If he had to give a prize for best costume, it’d go to Shinsou.

His Beetlejuice getup was phenomenal. It wasn’t just accurate—the guy embodied the vibe.

Sero had kept his promise and showed up as Edward Scissorhands, and he looked amazing, though the costume seemed kinda uncomfortable. Katsuki wondered if he’d made the gloves himself or bought them. Jirou and Yaomomo were dressed as Elphaba and Glinda, and Tsuyu had done her hair in long braids to look like Wednesday. Hatsume had built a killer Mad Hatter outfit from scratch using recyclable materials—it looked so good Katsuki was genuinely impressed. Tetsutetsu had made himself fake wings and gone as Ryuk from Death Note, and he honestly looked terrifying. Ochako had gone for something simpler—a brown dress with mouse ears and fake teeth. And Todoroki, a little too into his role, was holding a real bottle of whiskey in his Jack Sparrow outfit.

When it came time to figure out Iida’s costume and Katsuki couldn’t, he had to ask.

“Forrest Gump,” the guy said with a sigh like he’d answered that question a dozen times already. “I’m Forrest Gump!”

Honestly, Katsuki thought he just looked like regular Iida.

Then he saw Denki and had a sudden thought, paused, and decided to go for it.

Orange overalls, prison-style. Glasses. Blonde. Lawyer hair. Gay.

“Jeffrey Dahmer?”

“Dude! You got it!”

But someone was missing.

“Where’s Izuku?” he asked, trying to sound casual while munching on a slice of pizza, seated between Kirishima and Shinsou. The conversation was flowing naturally all around them.

“With Haitani, somewhere,” Ochako said, rolling her eyes. “He said he’d come join us later.”

“Here,” Shinsou suddenly said, handing Katsuki a shot glass filled with Todoroki’s whiskey. “To get the night started.”

He looked around—everyone had one.

“I—”

“Come on, bro,” Himiko’s voice interrupted him. She had apparently returned from the trampoline and was now sliding onto Ochako’s lap like it was nothing, grinning from ear to ear. “Have some fun.”

Katsuki narrowed his eyes at her.

“Cheers,” Mina said, raising her shot and waiting for everyone to clink glasses in the center. Katsuki reluctantly followed. “To another Halloween together!”

Everyone drank. So did he.

The immediate burn scorched his throat and nearly made him cough, but he managed to suppress the reflex, just grimacing at the taste—still not used to alcohol. It didn’t take more than two minutes for the hot liquid to hit his stomach and shoot straight to his brain.

They decided to hang out a little longer and finish eating—no one wanted to get drunk on an empty stomach—so Katsuki lost track of how much time passed. At least two rounds of shots later, Mina made the night’s first real suggestion, and Katsuki wasn’t sure how his body felt about it.

“Let’s do the obstacle run!” Mina begged, jumping up and dragging Kirishima with her.

Katsuki stood and followed them toward the far end of the yard, which turned out to be much bigger than it looked. He ignored the wave of dizziness that made him pause and check his balance before walking straight again. He glanced at his watch—it was already midnight.

At the back, there were two makeshift obstacle courses, a table set up at the far end, stacked with several unlabeled bottles of what Katsuki assumed was alcohol, and a megaphone. On the circuits, two people were struggling to run, their costumes dragging behind them, while a crowd of onlookers cheered them on energetically.

The poor guy couldn’t help but notice the girl climbing the net slowly tilting to the side, only to suddenly grab on for dear life and push forward to reach the other side. She ran, downed a shot, and raised a red flag high in the air.

A siren blared from the megaphone, making his eardrum vibrate, followed by a voice—distorted and amplified a hundred times—announcing the winner and the end of the race.

"Shiozaki wins this round! Forest Flowers are the winning team!" a guy dressed as Pennywise called out through the megaphone, then let out a long belch that echoed through the whole place.

“I can’t believe we let her name us that,” another guy—wearing a costume Katsuki honestly couldn’t identify—said as he wrapped an arm around the girl who had run the race, trying to steady her so she could walk off the course.

“It’s a cute name—” the girl complained, shooting him a look. But the rest of her team swooped in, snatched her from his hands, and lifted her up in the air, cheering her name as they carried her off—who knew where.

Katsuki jumped when Kirishima threw an arm around his shoulder and pulled him toward the group. Mina was talking, clearly in her role as leader, and someone was preparing shots at the back table.

“Alright, it’ll be girls versus boys!” the pink-haired girl’s voice rose above the music and the surrounding noise. Of the crowd who had been watching the games, some had stayed, others left, and new people had arrived. Even Kendo had shown up at some point, now among them in her Black Widow costume. “But there’s nine of you and only eight of us, so we need one more girl to join,” she said, stepping toward the small crowd and shouting at the top of her lungs, “We need one more girl!”

The women exchanged glances for a few seconds, unsure—some had elaborate, impractical costumes for climbing and running—but then a black-haired girl in a Cleopatra outfit pushed her way to the front, hand raised and breathing hard.

“Me!” she said confidently, approaching Mina with purpose.

“Great,” Mina grabbed her arm and led her back to the group. “What’s your name?”

“Uri.”

“Uri,” Mina repeated, then turned to the rest. “Guys, this is Uri. She’s joining us to complete the team.”

For some reason, the girl ignored everyone else's greetings and looked straight at him. But no one seemed to think much of it. Katsuki nodded in her direction, barely giving her a glance before writing her off.

That’s when the math hit him.

There weren’t nine of them.

Actually, there were eight—because Izuku was missing—

Izuku, who in that moment entered his line of sight like a firefly flitting around—bright, drawing everyone's attention.

He was walking alone from the front of the yard, waving at someone in the distance, striding with that European runway-model walk that Katsuki constantly wondered whether he'd learned or was just born with. And Katsuki swore everything in his mind shifted into slow motion.

He wore a sparkly white corset over tight black shorts that barely covered anything; white knee-high boots with faux fur trim; fuzzy bracelets on his wrists; and a pair of oversized bunny ears on his head.

Honestly, he needed a shot.

“…After the bench, there's a shot and then the death limbo. After that, another shot—this one you have to guess what it is. If you get it wrong, you take another one until you guess it right.”

Katsuki shook his head, trying and failing to ground himself in reality, scared he might’ve just drooled a little. What the hell was that guy talking?

“Then it’s spin around with the bat, run again, step through the rainbow rings, climb up and down the rope, run, shot, and grab the flag. First to the flag gets the point. Most points at the end wins,” Pennywise explained. “We start on my signal.”

Kirishima grabbed him by the shoulders, locking eyes with him in genuine concern.

“Bro, it’s a battle of the sexes,” he said, and Katsuki could tell from the overly serious tone that the guy was definitely tipsy from the table shots. “But if we win, Mina’s gonna kill me.”

Katsuki frowned in confusion.

“What?”

“Feminism,” Kirishima replied flatly.

Katsuki still didn’t get it, so he repeated. “What?”

Izuku approached them from the right, all smiles, clinging to both of them like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“You guys look amazing!”

Katsuki felt his brain short-circuit, but couldn’t say anything, because Mina pointed at them fiercely and shoved them forward. “Line up already!”

He wasn’t sure how it happened, but somehow, he ended up at the front of the line. On the other side, it looked like Ochako would be his opponent. She gave him a devilish grin right before Pennywise made the announcement.

“Team Good Vibes Dynamite versus team Lil Dicks, round 1. Three, two, one… Let’s go!”

Who the hell picked those names?

The adrenaline shot through him like a cannon, lifting his feet off the ground as he sprinted toward the bench he had to leap. He vaulted over it like a pro and landed in front of the next guy, who handed him a shot of god-knows-what. He downed it the way his mom taught him to take medicine: fast, deep, no breathing. The next thing he knew, he almost broke his back doing the limbo, and realized he was definitely going to puke later.

The girl holding the first mystery shot waited for his guess. He had none.

“Vodka?” he said, stupidly. He had no idea what the hell each kind of alcohol tasted like—he’d maybe tried one or two, tops. No way he could remember flavors.

She shook her head. Another guy handed him a new shot. He took it, feeling the dread pile up. Ochako was already at the next station.

“Whiskey?”

She shook her head. Another shot.

“Rum?”

Same.

“You got this, Bakubro!” Denki yelled from behind, over the blaring Sorry For Party Rocking, while Katsuki was practically tearing his hair out.

He took the next shot. The room was spinning like a rollercoaster.

“Tequila?”

She smiled and patted his back. He ran again, but his feet felt like they were tied to bricks. He started climbing—just in time to see Ochako raise the flag. The siren sounded. The round was over.

He lost. Spectacularly.

The only thing he could do now was sit and stare at something that didn’t move enough to make him want to throw up.

“You did good, Bakubro,” Kirishima said, joining him on the grass after his own race—which he clearly threw—and patting his back. “You okay?”

Katsuki wanted to say no, nothing was okay. But it was barely 1:00 AM. He hadn’t seen every round, but he'd caught glimpses: Izuku had fallen and scraped a knee, Iida had played without drinking, and Denki had stripped off the top half of his overalls. The rest was a blur.

“Just a little dizzy,” he muttered, rubbing his face.

“You should go dance,” the redhead suggested. “Make you sweat.” He added, staring into the distance. “Also, don’t worry about Himiko-chan. We made sure she played without drinking.”

Katsuki nodded, relieved.

“Thanks, Kirishima.”

“No big deal, man.”

“Are the games over?”

“Not yet. Two people left.”

“Who’s gonna win?”

“The girls, man. Not blaming you, but it all kind of went downhill since we started with you.” The guy chuckled.

Katsuki laughed despite himself—deep and genuine.

They sat quietly for a while, just enjoying the moment amid the crowd’s bustle. Eventually, the siren sounded again, and Pennywise’s voice rang out through the megaphone.

“Team Good Vibes Dynamite wins!”

They both burst out laughing as the area erupted in cheers, mostly high-pitched female voices.

Katsuki was mid-conversation with Kirishima, his eyes unconsciously fixed on a certain green-haired bunny-eared figure in the distance, when someone stepped in front of him, blocking his view completely.

He blinked, a bit annoyed—but the irritation vanished when some part of his brain told him that being upset over something that dumb was ridiculous.

The girl in the Cleopatra costume was looking down at him with a shy face and a friendly smile.

What was her name again? Ari?

“Uh, hi,” she said, eyes only on him like Kirishima wasn’t even there. Not that the redhead seemed to mind.

“Hey,” Katsuki replied flatly. He vaguely registered Kirishima’s sharky grin and quick greeting.

The girl hesitated a few seconds, then continued.

“I—was wondering if you, um, wanna dance?” she finally asked, stealing a glance at Kirishima but keeping her gaze mostly on him.

Katsuki froze. His brain-monk had apparently turned off the lights and gone to sleep out of sheer panic at a girl talking to him like this. He stood there—mute, still, and stupid.

Kirishima nudged him.

The girl looked close to panicking.

“But if you don’t want to, that’s fine—”

“Oh, he wants to,” Kirishima cut in, dragging Katsuki to his feet and subtly nudging him toward the girl. “Y’know what, I’ll go find Mina. Maybe she wants to dance too. You guys go have fun.”

And with that, he disappeared into the crowd, leaving Katsuki sure he was about to have an aneurysm.

The poor girl gave him a hopeful smile and gently hooked her arm around his, leading him into the house.

“I’m Uri,” she said—probably because his face clearly screamed I forgot your name, and he appreciated it. “I go to Tamagawa.”

He nodded like he actually knew where that was.

“Bakugou. From UA,” he said out of politeness.

Inside, the music was even louder and the heat more suffocating. The memory of Momo’s house hit Katsuki, and he wrinkled his nose at the thought. The image of Izuku popped into his mind seconds later—but he shoved it away quickly, reminding himself that this time Izuku wasn’t the one with him.

Uri pulled him toward the dancing crowd. They squeezed their way into the center, where she began moving against him to a rhythm he neither felt nor possessed.

“I love this song!” she yelled in his ear, excited.

He could only wonder when he’d puke or pass out from heatstroke. The alcohol was still hot in his blood, flipping his world upside down, and the blazer felt like a noose in that ocean of bodies.

Kirishima’s voice flashed in his head like a warning sign.

You should go dance. Make you sweat.

In that moment, it made perfect sense. He just wanted that sticky, dizzying feeling in his head to go away. It wasn’t the world moving in slow motion—it was him. Sluggish and heavy.

So he jumped.

He remembered his parents dancing to 80s music in the living room, pulling out forgotten moves, and figured—what the hell. This song wasn’t 80s, but it didn’t matter. Any song would do. So he jumped, did the steps he remembered, and danced with Uri—pushing away his usual shame, yelling and laughing, letting himself be part of the moment instead of just watching it from outside the frame.

That same adrenaline from the obstacle course surged through him again, filling every cell and bouncing him off bodies with an excitement that even he could barely believe. Uri grabbed his hands, raised them over their heads, and they screamed along with the crowd as the music changed and the lights flashed in his blurry vision.

Then, just as the lights came on, Katsuki’s eyes met—once again—that olive glow. Under the spotlight, it gleamed like golden sunlight.

Izuku stood several steps away, hidden among the crowd and wrapped in Haitani’s arms—pressed against him like a second skin.

Izuku, wearing a sour expression.

Haitani, dressed as the Joker.

Then the lights went out again.

Katsuki decided to jump a little longer. After all, he could already feel the sweat rolling down his back.

He didn’t know how many songs had passed or how much time had gone by, but he was starting to feel really thirsty. He excused himself from the girl and headed for the kitchen in search of water. Thankfully, he found some at the dispenser and downed a glass in one gulp.

Through the kitchen window, he could see Monoma on his knees on the grass, chugging beer straight from two mini-kegs held up by two other guys, his face turning red as a chorus of “Drink, drink, drink, drink!” echoed all around him.

Katsuki scrunched up his nose. If he was still drunk, he didn’t even want to imagine how that would end.

A hand suddenly yanking at his shirt snapped him back to reality, making him turn to see what the hell was going on.

Denki, still shirtless and disheveled, stood in front of him with wide eyes and a trembling body, his expression one of sheer desperation.

“Bro—you have to take some shots with me,” he demanded, pulling two shot glasses out of the back pocket of his overalls and a bottle from the front one. With shaky hands, he poured two shots and offered one to Katsuki. He didn’t take it.

“Bakugou!”

“I’m not drinking with you!” Katsuki protested, stepping back, but Denki followed him and shoved the glass into his chest, spilling some in the process. “Come on, just three—”

“Three!?”

Denki put a finger on his lips to hush him. He was clearly wasted—and maybe something else.

“I made a bet with Todoroki, and I need a bunch of people to take a bunch of shots with me because I have to finish this bottle in thirty minutes,” he explained quickly. “I’ve got twenty left, so c’mon.”

“Why not drink with someone else?” Katsuki shot back.

“Because you're the only one I think won't throw up in the next thirty minutes.”

Katsuki thought about it.

He really was an idiot.

He snatched the shot from Denki’s hand and downed it in one go. Then handed it back for the next one.

“I’m a fucking joke,” he muttered, defeated, as Denki offered him the second and he obediently drank it.

“You’re a hero, Kacchan.” When Denki handed him the last one, that dizzying sensation that had just started to fade suddenly returned, this time five times stronger.

“By the way, Himiko-chan’s looking for you, you should go to the living room!”

And just like that, Denki was gone.

So, he made his way toward what he guessed was the living room, only to find a bunch of people packed on the sofas and floor. Himiko found him instantly and dragged him by the arm over to where she was sitting.

She had a Coke in her hand, and her dress looked pretty dirty, but Katsuki was way too out of it to ask. Maybe tomorrow.

“Katsuki, guess what.”

Katsuki really didn’t want to guess anything.

“Himiko, I feel like shit—”

“Shh, you’ll be fine. Drink Coke,” she pressed the can to his lips, and he took a sip more out of reflex than desire—and immediately regretted it. The sickly sweet taste clung to his tongue and only made his nausea worse.

“So, I signed you up for a game of Seven Minutes in Heaven.”

Something in his brain short-circuited.

“Sorry, what?”

“Yep!” she answered cheerfully, like it was the best idea she’d had all year. “Isn’t that great?”

For the first time in his life, Katsuki felt an urge to murder his sister, but he was too drunk to even lift a finger.

He was still processing her words when Izuku walked in holding Haitani’s hand, leaning against the wall with a bored, disinterested look. He looked sweaty and out of breath, and Katsuki avoided eye contact at all costs. Still, he caught a glimpse of Haitani grabbing a couple of papers from the coffee table, writing something on them, and slipping them into the box. Probably his and Izuku’s names. Or maybe just one. Not that it was his business.

Mirio picked up the box, shaking it with a huge grin on his face.

“Well, I found out a bunch of us are single, so I thought we could have a little fun too” he said, a mischievous laugh escaping him as he placed the box back on the table and reached inside to pull out two slips. His expression immediately shifted from surprised to wickedly pleased.

“Well, losers, looks like I got lucky.” He smirked. “Mirio and Tamaki.”

A blue-haired guy in the corner of the couch wearing a very lazy Dracula costume visibly tensed, and a girl beside him dressed as Daphne Blake gave him a playful nudge and whispered something in his ear until the poor guy stood up on shaky legs.

Mirio held out his hand, and the room fell silent, waiting to see what Tamaki would do… until he finally took it.

Cheers and whistles filled the air as the two disappeared into the tiny bathroom, someone locking the door behind them.

Whispers and speculation buzzed through the room. His sister turned to him with an expression that screamed this-is-scandalous.

“I bet my allowance they’re gonna kiss in there,” she gasped, checking her watch.

Katsuki prayed to every god that his sister would get bored or want to leave before his name magically got pulled from that cursed box or he throwed up.

Of course, that didn’t happen.

Four couples later, at 2:45 a.m., just as Katsuki was about to stand up and tell his sister (his little sister, for God’s sake) that there was no way he was doing this, Mirio pulled two more slips from the damn box and read them out loud.

Katsuki felt his soul leave his body.

“Bakugou Katsuki and Midoriya Izuku.”

His sister started vibrating next to him.

He, on the other hand, was pretty sure he’d gone pale.

When no one moved after a few seconds, Mirio repeated:

“You guys here?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Izuku walking slowly but confidently toward the bathroom door. Katsuki, meanwhile, couldn’t get his legs to cooperate. Not until Himiko made him.

“Here!” she yelled, tugging on him discreetly to make him stand, then pushing him forward. “Go on, be a man,” she whispered in his ear, giving him a smack on the back so hard he almost stumbled.

Katsuki looked at Izuku, who stood by the bathroom door with a shy but unreadable expression, and felt something boil in his gut.

“All right, boys. Seven minutes. Keep it safe and clean,” Mirio said, motioning them in.

Katsuki let Izuku go first, then followed behind. The sound of the door locking behind them was immediate.

The light inside was dim, which made it hard to see clearly given how drunk he was. He could only make out abstract shapes that formed the outline of Izuku, standing right in front of him in the cramped space. It was almost claustrophobic, and the way he was sweating, his heart hammering, it was like a full-blown panic attack.

Izuku stood completely still. So still that if it weren’t for the subtle rise and fall of his chest—his freckled, partially bare, pale chest—he could’ve passed for a mannequin. He was looking down, and under the flickering light above them, his long lashes cast hypnotizing shadows on his cheeks. Katsuki could feel the brush of his breath on his neck.

“This is… hilarious,” Izuku said after what felt like a full minute of silence.

“Indeed,” Katsuki agreed through gritted teeth, running a hand through his gelled hair—probably messing it up in the process.

Then Izuku finally looked up at him, those big, bright eyes filled with something Katsuki couldn’t quite read. Maybe because he was too drunk. Or just too stupid.

“Your costume looks amazing,” Izuku said, gently smoothing down the fabric of his jacket. “Haitani dressed as the Joker too.”

Katsuki couldn’t help the sarcastic snort that escaped him. “Yeah, I saw.”

Izuku chuckled softly.

“Why’d he let you play this?” he asked, curiosity and booze loosening his tongue as he searched Izuku’s green eyes.

“Told you—it’s an open relationship,” Izuku replied, frowning slightly. “We both wanted to play.”

Katsuki made a noncommittal sound, his mind growing fuzzier, his legs heavier. He closed his eyes for a second, but instantly regretted it. The whole world tilted like a magnitude ten earthquake.

“Why?” he asked, desperate for anything to distract him from his swirling nausea and the unbearable closeness of the boy who made him dizzy in more ways than one.

“…I’m… trying my luck,” Izuku whispered suddenly—way too close.

Katsuki felt himself choke on air.

Izuku’s hand was still clutching his jacket, and in that tiny space, it felt like they were breathing each other’s air. Katsuki could smell the sweet perfume on him, mixed with a faint scent of tobacco, and the alcohol on his breath.

His head felt like it was overheating.

Izuku moved closer, wrapping his arms around Katsuki’s neck and standing on his toes to look him in the eyes. Katsuki’s arms stayed stiff at his sides, fighting not to sway. Izuku was clearly drunk too—but how much?

He fluttered his lashes deliberately, then traced Katsuki’s cheek with a single finger.

They were barely an inch apart.

And suddenly, Katsuki was hyper-aware of everything.

Izuku’s soft curls. His freckled skin. His sincere, expressive green eyes. His thick lashes casting soft shadows. His little upturned nose. And most of all, his lips—rosy, full, moist, and inviting. Katsuki couldn’t breathe.

Izuku looked at him like he wanted to say—no, scream something, but couldn’t.

Time was running out.

Maybe if he were just a little braver—

Izuku kissed him.

Izuku was kissing him and suddenly, all Katsuki could think was—

Izuku, Izuku, Izuku.

It was fireworks in his brain. Wild, shapeless lights crashing around his skull.

Outside, someone played Juno by Sabrina Carpenter, and then “Who the hell put this on? It’s not damn Valentine’s!” someone shouted.

But all Katsuki could feel was the softness of Izuku’s lips on his, their breaths mingling under the flickering bulb.

To him, it felt like sunlight at 3 a.m.

Like a thousand bugs inside his stomach were clawing their way out, desperate to be free and fly into the night.

And then it felt like…

Like he was going to puke.

He pulled back slightly, panicking, but Izuku gripped the back of his neck tighter and deepened the kiss. Terror crawled up Katsuki’s spine.

“I-I-Izuku—” he mumbled against his lips, grabbing his hands to push him away just in time for a violent retch.

Next thing he knew, he was kneeling over the toilet, throwing up everything he’d had that night, right as the bathroom door swung open and Mirio announced their time was up.

Mirio looked horrified. And disgusted. So did everyone else.

Izuku quickly stepped in front of Katsuki to block him from view.

“Give us a minute,” Izuku snapped, shoving Mirio aside and slamming the door shut. He knelt beside Katsuki, gently holding his head back as he threw up again.

After a couple more dry heaves, Katsuki collapsed against the toilet.

Fantastic. This was hell.

“You okay, Kacchan?” Izuku asked.

Katsuki was silent for a moment.

“I think I drank too much,” he said weakly. “Sorry.”

Izuku shook his head and helped him to his feet, guiding him to the sink. Katsuki rinsed his mouth, glancing at the mirror. Surprisingly, his makeup was still intact. Honestly, he didn’t feel uncomfortable. Maybe a little embarrassed, but he had no idea what to say.

Thank god Izuku saved him again by grabbing his arm and turning the doorknob.

“We have to go,” he whispered as he opened the door.

An awkward silence greeted them outside.

In the corner, Haitani watched them with an unreadable expression.

“Well that was interesting,” Mirio said, pulling out another pair of slips.

Katsuki saw Himiko sitting among the crowd, clearly in shock. But the last thing he wanted was to sit with those idiots. If anything, he wanted to go home.

So he walked toward the exit, head heavy, legs barely working. Though he had to admit, he did feel better now that it was out of his system. As for Izuku… the only thing he’d managed to give him was a silent glance and a subtle brush of fingers before they went their separate ways. But by the time he noticed the smudge of makeup on Izuku’s mouth, it was already too late.

Himiko caught up with him outside.

“I want to go home,” he said immediately, tone sharp and demanding as he felt her approach. He was grateful she came in concerned sister mode, not gossip gremlin mode.

“Of course,” she said, tense as she pulled out her phone to call an Uber. “Should we say bye to Mina and the others?”

He nodded reluctantly.

Mina and Kirishima weren’t hard to find—they were jumping on the trampoline out back. Himiko asked them to say goodbye to the rest, though it sounded like the party was winding down anyway. Mina even said she thought she heard police sirens a while ago.

By the time the Uber arrived, Katsuki was nearly asleep on his feet.

“Will you tell me everything tomorrow?” Himiko asked, hugging his arm and resting her head on his shoulder as they watched the streetlights blur past like hazy flashes.

"If I remember, yeah," he replied in the middle of a yawn. "Remind me we have to come back for the car tomorrow." She nodded.

"Please tell me you didn’t throw up anywhere on him," she said after a couple minutes of silence, her tone heavy with worry and regret.

It took him a few more moments to answer.

"I really hope I didn’t."

Chapter Text

Izuku was as pale as a sheet when he felt Haitani grab him by the arm and drag him out of the living room toward the backyard, right behind the blond who was striding away with long, determined steps, visibly upset and bothered by something Izuku couldn’t figure out.

Was he upset because he had kissed him?

His whole body tensed at the mere thought, and he instinctively resisted the rough grip of his boyfriend, who yanked him back the moment he sensed Izuku’s intention to go after the blond to clear things up.

"Izuku," Haitani hissed through gritted teeth, his grip tightening with new violence. Izuku stumbled backward and turned to look at him, his face contorted in shock, but fear quickly seeped into his features, making him look younger than he really was. Haitani warned him with his eyes.

"Haitani—" the green-haired boy tried to protest, but Haitani simply dragged him to the opposite side of the yard. Izuku kept glancing between Haitani and Katsuki, who was flushed and walking toward Mina near the trampoline, moving farther out of sight with every step. "I just want—"

Haitani didn’t let go of him until they reached the table where his friends were sitting.
Izuku froze for a moment under their scrutinizing gazes.

"Hey, Tani," one of the guys sitting at the table said with a lazy grin, lifting his beer can in greeting. "We were wondering where you went."

Haitani grabbed a beer from a cooler sitting on the grass and took a long drink. Then, putting a possessive and authoritative hand around Izuku’s waist, he handed him the can, expecting him to take a sip.

"We went to dance a bit," Haitani said casually, locking eyes with the shorter boy, who avoided his gaze until Haitani squeezed his side over the fabric of his corset, forcing him to exhale the breath he was holding. Izuku took the can and chugged it down in one go.

He decided he didn’t have the energy for much else that night, so he made his way toward the only empty chair at the table. But before he could sit, Haitani beat him to it and gave him a suggestive look, glancing between Izuku and his lap with amused, raised eyebrows.
Izuku understood immediately but hesitated for a second. Honestly, he was so dazed and irritated after everything that had happened that he wasn’t sure he wanted to just give Haitani what he wanted.

The older man’s eyes darkened.

Izuku grabbed another beer, hoping it would hit fast, and finally sat on Haitani’s lap with an air of nonchalance.

From then on, all that really happened was Haitani chatting about things Izuku barely understood or paid attention to, while he limited himself to drinking or scrolling through his phone. Occasionally, some of Haitani’s friends would ask him something and he would quietly join the conversation, but he was already drunk and fatigue was starting to weigh him down. He just hoped Haitani would decide to leave soon.

Earlier in the night, when they first arrived at the party, he had chatted and danced a lot, even jumped on the trampoline. But now, drunk, tired, and in the early morning hours, he had become a much quieter, duller version of himself, just wishing for his bed.

By the time Haitani finally decided it was time to go, Mina and the others had already been gone for a while. There were still people at the party, but the buzz had died down compared to two hours ago, and Izuku hadn’t seen Mirio in a long time.

"Time to head out, idiots," Haitani said, gently nudging Izuku with his knee to get him off his lap. "I’ve got a family meeting tomorrow."

"Whatever you say, Cap," teased an orange-haired guy, lifting his beer can at him. "We'll keep partying till sunrise in your honor."

"Stop drinking already, you bastards, or you'll be useless for the game," Haitani warned with a narrow-eyed glare, guiding the unsteady green-haired boy toward the exit. "Catch you later."

"Bye, Midori-ya!" the girls and a few guys at the table called out, waving and wishing him well. Izuku waved back with a tired smile

Haitani’s friends were a mixed, colorful bunch of people. The first time Izuku met them, he had been only sixteen, and unfortunately, he had met the members of UT’s football team back when Haitani had just joined and wasn’t captain yet. Sadly, they were all a bunch of arrogant jerks who loved laughing at others and making jokes at other people’s expenses. They despised anyone without their social standing, bullied anyone who let them, and pretty much got away with everything.

Sadly, Haitani had picked up many of those behaviors.

Or maybe he already had them at home; Izuku didn’t know.

He had learned to tolerate them and even fit in to some degree, earning enough respect that they rarely messed with him. Still, their atmosphere always made him uncomfortable, starting with the fact that he didn’t even have a fifth of the purchasing power that Haitani and his friends had.

Over time, the team had changed, but they were replaced by more or less the same type of people.

If Izuku had to pick someone worth saving from that group, it would definitely be Mirio.

The girls weren’t much different.

With time, Izuku had learned how to handle all kinds of personalities and attitudes, and being the brave kid he was, few people dared to mess with him.

When Izuku climbed into the truck, he threw his head back and let out a deep sigh, one that felt like it came straight from his soul.

"You were really holding that in, babe," Haitani said as he climbed in on the other side, his tone sharp and mocking, irritating Izuku so much he almost slapped him right there. Maybe it was the alcohol in his blood, but he seriously wanted to hit him.

He decided to stay silent for both their sakes.

But Haitani didn’t.

"Does he at least know how to kiss, or is he a loser at that too?" Haitani sneered, taking one last swig from his beer and carelessly tossing the empty can out the window as he started the truck.

Izuku blushed furiously, shifting in his seat and tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. He didn’t know why, but his first instinct was to deny it—so he did.

"I didn’t kiss him."

Haitani laughed right in his face, a forced, almost cruel sound, as he turned a corner to merge onto the main avenue.

"You’ve got his makeup all over your face, Izuku."

The blood rushed to Izuku’s ears, and he immediately wiped at his face in a not-so-subtle attempt to clean it off.

He wanted to deny it again, but realized it would be pointless. Besides, it’s not like it was wrong—Haitani and he had an agreement.

His fingers paused for a second, brushing lightly over his lips, which still tingled from the sensation of soft, damp skin against his own, and a smile he couldn’t hide curved his lips.
Haitani pressed his mouth into a thin line and furrowed his brow, his mocking laughter dying instantly, replaced by a look that made Izuku freeze in his seat.

"Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you look at that dipshit," the other man suddenly snapped, barely contained anger in his voice as he stepped on the gas.

Izuku swallowed hard.

The air rushing in through the window hit his face, and he clung to it desperately, trying to shake off his drunkenness —and failing miserably. He ran a hand through his messy curls and blinked, fighting off the sleep that was starting to weigh down his eyelids, even though a serious tension had just settled heavily between them.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," he replied immediately, trying his best to sound nonchalant as he nervously fidgeted with his hands in his lap. He caught the sideways glance Haitani shot at him.

"You can't go around kissing guys you like, Izuku," the man continued, letting out an incredulous laugh, eyes fixed on the road. He shook his head like the very idea was some kind of grotesque offense. "You can hook up, fool around, even sleep with whoever you want —that’s what we agreed on. But you can’t just start feeling something for another idiot."

Izuku's heart skipped a beat.

Silence fell between them as they waited at a red light. It wasn’t until Haitani started driving again that Izuku found his voice, clutching his chest with his right hand as if trying to hold himself together after the man had physically shot an arrow straight into his heart.

"You’re wrong," he said, his voice cutting over the intro to Hips Don’t Lie playing on the radio. Then he turned the volume up, trying to drown out the thoughts swirling in his spinning head —and hopefully drown out Haitani’s too.

"You’re mine, Izuku," Haitani repeated, just like he had many times before, tightening his grip on the steering wheel and then relaxing again as if some fleeting thought had passed through him.

Izuku forced himself to relax too, turning his face toward the window, watching the cars, lights, and storefronts blur by. But despite everything, there was a sharp, uncomfortable thorn lodged deep in his chest.

It felt like Haitani was a wild animal —ready to snap at any moment.

"Love, I want to go home."

"I know, baby, we’re on our way."

Izuku hesitated before adding:

"No, I mean... my home. Can you take me to my mom’s?"

Haitani frowned. "Why don’t you want to come to my place?"

Izuku scrambled to come up with an excuse at the speed of light.
"I forgot to tell you, I’m having breakfast and going shopping early with her tomorrow."

Haitani didn’t seem totally convinced, but he was drunk and tired enough to accept the excuse with a grumble. With an angry jerk of the steering wheel, he made a rough U-turn, heading toward Izuku’s house instead.

"Haitani!" Izuku yelped as the truck swerved violently, sending him sliding sideways on the seat since he wasn’t wearing a seatbelt, the tires screeching against the asphalt with a sound that screamed danger.

"Let me know tomorrow," Haitani said irritably, driving recklessly through the neighborhood.

"Calm down," Izuku begged, reaching out to touch his shoulder —but Haitani jerked away from him roughly.

Izuku quickly buckled up, even though there were only about ten minutes left, and sat perfectly still the rest of the ride.

The trip was tense.

Haitani had always had a violent streak, but it got worse when he was drunk, jealous, or frustrated.

And sometimes —to Izuku’s bad luck— all three happened at once.

When he finally got out of the truck, Haitani barely spared him a glance, like he was just some burden he couldn't wait to get rid of. He glared at him through the window with that same disgusted look.

"I don’t want you seeing that useless fuck anymore," he ordered. Izuku was too stunned to respond at first, frozen long enough that Haitani started to drive off —until Izuku snapped out of it.

"He’s in my class, Haitani," he said, struggling to find his voice. Then, summoning a surge of courage, he added, "Besides... you can see other people, but I can’t? I don’t get it." He lifted his chin, feeling the blood rush to his head as adrenaline kicked in.

Haitani ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident.

"Not this again," he muttered tiredly, then pointed an accusing finger at him. "You can fuck him once if you want, but you’re not gonna stay friends and all that bullshit. You look at him like you wanna run away on a damn vacation together. I’m not stupid. You’re not seeing him anymore. End of story."

Then he revved the engine harshly.

"I’m going to find someone who actually knows how to suck me dry since my little bitch isn’t in the mood tonight."

Izuku stared, mouth agape, as Haitani sped off.

The harshness of his words slammed into him so hard that his tears came rushing out in less than five seconds.

The early morning air was bitter cold and paralyzing as Izuku unlocked the building’s front door, stumbling in short, shaky steps toward his apartment. The hallway light was flickering, about to go out —just like the weary heartbeat inside his chest.

Truth be told, he didn’t live in a nice place.

It was a relatively poor neighborhood, rough around the edges, and there was always bad news floating around. But he’d lived there his whole life, and somehow the community had come to respect him and his mom.

The building was six stories tall, badly in need of repairs for years, but rent was cheap and it was spacious enough for the two of them. They lived on the fifth floor in a two-bedroom, one-and-a-half-bath apartment with a kitchen and a living room. His mom kept it spotless and cozy, and Izuku loved it dearly.

There was no place where he felt safer or happier than his own room.

So, when he finally opened the door and slipped inside as quietly as possible, the familiar scent of home hit him so hard that a broken, wounded sob escaped his throat, echoing through the empty apartment.

It was so loud he froze, afraid he’d wake his mom.

He waited a minute by the door, but when nothing happened, he hurried to his room.

He didn’t even bother turning on the light.

In the dark, he kicked off his boots, stripped off his clothes clumsily until he was down to his underwear, and crawled into bed —buried under his All Might blanket, sobbing so hard he was sure his mom would hear him this time.

He didn’t know how long he cried, clinging to his pillow like a lifeline.

Between hiccups, he grabbed his phone.

There were messages from Mina, Ochako, and the group chat.

But there was one chat —no new notifications— that immediately caught his attention.

The last conversation was from October 23rd.

You: hey kacchan
You: what’s for dinner??
Kacchan: Making hot dogs
Kacchan: Todoroki asked for them
You: really?? that’s awesome!!!!
You: save me one
Kacchan: Just one?
You: yep
Kacchan: I’ll save you two
You: you trying to make me fat???
Kacchan: No comment
You: 🤨 🤨 🤨

Izuku checked the last connection: 3:45 AM.

It was 3:52 AM now.

Screw it. He was drunk and sad, and he had nothing to lose.

You: kacchan

The little green dot lit up instantly —online.

A minute later, a reply:

Kacchan: Hey, Izuku

Izuku blinked, tears still streaming down his face, soaking the pillow beneath him. He typed:

You: are you home?

Three dots bouncing. Then:

Kacchan: Yeah

He almost rolled his eyes. C’mon, Kacchan, give me something to work with here.

You: back at the dorms?

Kacchan: Yeah, where are you?

You: at my house

Kacchan: At your house, like... with your parents?

You: yup. how’s himiko-chan?

Kacchan: She’s fine

You: and... you?

Kacchan: Still kinda drunk, honestly

Izuku reacted to the message with a laughing emoji, blinking a few more tears away as a faint smile tugged at his lips.

You: not drunk enough if you’re texting clearly

Kacchan: Took a cold shower and chugged a stupid amount of water

You: for someone who doesn't drink you know a lot

Kacchan: It's just logic, Izuku

He chuckled softly under the covers.

For a second, he hesitated, wondering if he should bring up what happened at the party —a growing knot of anxiety gnawing at the back of his mind. A blurry flash of Kacchan’s stunned face, his tense body, crossed his mind. The smile slipped from Izuku’s lips.

He typed:

You: kacchan
You: uhm
You: about tonight

He waited. No three dots appeared. No read receipt.

One minute. Then two.

He shifted on his bed, lying flat on his stomach.

Finally, he typed:

You: are you... mad?

The response came instantly:

Kacchan: Why would I be mad?

Izuku bit his lip hard, his anxiety clawing at him.

Why did kissing someone —something that shouldn’t be a big deal, for god’s sake— make him feel like this?

Had they kissed?

Or was it more like... he had kissed Kacchan?

You: i don’t know
You: maybe because
You: i kissed you???

Katsuki took forever to reply —the typing bubbles appearing and disappearing over and over like he didn’t know what to say. The fact that even Kacchan didn’t seem sure of how to handle this made Izuku feel a little calmer.

Finally:

Kacchan: We kissed
Kacchan: I’m not mad
Kacchan: Is this a problem for you?

Izuku reread the messages at least six times.

You: no!!
You: i was just worried
You: you looked kinda upset when you left
You: i thought you were mad at me

Kacchan: No
Kacchan: I just wanted to get out of there —felt like shit from the booze

You: got it

Kacchan: We should sleep

You: you’re right
You: goodnight, kacchan

Kacchan: Goodnight, Izuku

He checked the time on his phone. 4:23 AM.

But the exhaustion he felt earlier —at the party, in Haitani’s truck— had evaporated into thin air.

He turned off his phone and set it on his nightstand.

Katsuki was really cute.

It was the first thought that came to mind whenever he thought of the boy or heard someone say his name. It was automatic, unconscious—almost as if someone else had placed it there.

And it was a happy thought.

He might not have known the boy for very long, but in those few months he had come to clear, certain, and objective conclusions: he was a gentleman, an incredibly responsible person, and on top of everything, extremely smart. Izuku would later blame all those thoughts on the alcohol, but he could easily spend hours staring at the ceiling, daydreaming about the boy in question, and finding nothing but good qualities in him.

Still, as renewed and dreamy as he felt, his body was exhausted, and sometime during the early morning hours he finally succumbed to sleep, his mind filled with images of amber eyes and spiky hair.

***

"Izuku."

There was a faint ray of light making everything inside his eye look orange.

"...Izuku."

It was annoying, pulsing against his temples, and alongside it, a distant whisper kept disturbing his sleep, like the chirping of a cricket in the middle of the night.

"...Izuku, sweetie, are you okay, honey?"

The poor boy cracked one eyelid open first, too groggy to fully open his eye, and only needed a glimpse of green hair identical to his own to remember exactly where he was. He blinked slowly and yawned so lazily that for a moment he thought he might dislocate his jaw.

His mother still looked at him with the same worried expression she had worn a few seconds ago, despite the clear signs of life.

"Mom," he mumbled, eyes unfocused but reaching out to gently touch her face in reassurance. She leaned softly into his touch and held his hand tenderly.

"Izuku," she repeated, "why didn’t you tell me you were coming?"

He yawned again before answering.

"I didn’t know I was going to."

She brushed the curls off his forehead and felt for a fever with the back of her hand, seeming to deliberate for a moment before cupping his cheek in the same way he had done to her.

"Where were you last night?"

Izuku looked at her in silence for a few seconds, still trying to wake up. Then he answered.

"A costume party."

Inko frowned slightly, not too happy with his answer, but quickly masked it with a genuine smile of joy. "Will you stay for the weekend?”

The boy thought about it before nodding. He let go of her face to give her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Yeah, Mom."

Something in the woman’s face lit up with renewed energy. She had always been devoted and deeply attached to her son, and being apart from him had been hard, so whenever Izuku decided to visit, it made her happy.

"Come on, I made fish and rice for breakfast," she said after kissing his forehead and helping him untangle himself from the mass of blankets so he could stand up. He quickly threw on a pair of pajamas and followed her out of the room, sitting with her at the small dining table where breakfast for two was already set. He glanced at the wall clock only to realize it was closer to lunchtime than breakfast—it was nearly one in the afternoon.

"How are you, sweetie?" his mom asked between bites, glancing between her plate and his face.

He kept his gaze low, analyzing the food on his plate and mentally counting the calories: a fish fillet 232, a bowl of rice 250, one egg 72, a cup of tea—

"Izuku?"

"I’m fine, Mom," he said, the heaviness in his chest making his voice falter a little, though he managed to sound convincing by the end. Haitani’s last words from the night before still echoed in his mind. He added, "Just busy."

"You look tired," she noted shrewdly. "Have you been sleeping well?"

He nodded and took a slow bite of his fish.

"Eating well?"

He tried not to tense at the question and swallowed his food carefully to make his answer more believable.

"Yeah, Mom," he replied. She gave him a suspicious look. "Really, Kacchan and the others take turns cooking."

His mom took a sip of tea and chewed thoughtfully. "Kacchan?"

He nodded, taking another bite of fish and then a spoonful of rice. "Yeah, he’s the new boy I told you about."

"Oh, I remember now," she said with an appreciative air. "You two have become good friends, from what you’ve told me."

Izuku blushed but kept eating to hide it.

"He’s really nice," he said simply.

"And how are things with Haitani?"

Izuku swallowed hard.

"...Good."

His mother looked at him with that knowing gaze, even if she didn’t know the full story, and reached across the table to hold his hand.

"Sweetheart, are you sure?"

Izuku really didn’t want to have this conversation. Not now, or anytime soon, really. He swallowed again and blinked furiously to push back the tears forming under his eyelids.

"We argue, like everyone does. But we’re fine, Mom, I promise."

His mother caught the hidden plea behind his words, though she wasn’t happy or convinced by his answer. She relented.

"Alright, Izuku," she sighed, giving his hand a final squeeze. "But you know I’m here if you ever need me."

Izuku nodded and pulled his hand back, wiping the sweat onto his pajama pants. His whole body was fighting not to start trembling. He shoved another bite of fish and rice into his mouth and quickly followed it with another.

"Save the date—December 23rd," the poor boy said, trying to steer the conversation elsewhere. "That’s the day of Miss Nagant’s company recital."

His mother’s eyes lit up with pure excitement, and she clasped her hands together.
"Izuku!" she exclaimed. "That’s— that’s wonderful, sweetie! Where will it be? Oh, Izuku, you’ve been working so hard. Of course I’ll mark it on my calendar! Has Miss Nagant told you how much the costume will cost?"

Izuku tensed.

"She has, but—"

"You have to tell me, Izuku," his mother said firmly, though her voice stayed soft and loving. "I’ve been picking up extra shifts, so it won’t be a problem." The green-haired boy felt tears prick his eyes again.

"No, Mom, I have some savings and—"

"That money’s for when you start college, Izuku," she cut him off, locking eyes with him with the kind of determination only a mother could have. "You know that if you don’t get a scholarship, we’ll need every bit we can save, and if I can still work to help you, I will."

Izuku ate silently.

"I’m proud of you, Izuku."

He nodded, finishing the last bite of his meal.

"I know, Mom."

"Don’t push yourself too hard. Remember to rest."

He nodded silently again, and after a moment he stood up with his empty plate in hand. His mother followed him.

"Okay, Mom," he said hoarsely, leaving the dishes in the sink. "I’ll wash them after I brush my teeth."

"Alright, Izuku. Later we can go out for a bit—today’s my day off," she said as she went to sit on the couch and turned on the TV to watch the news.

Meanwhile, Izuku headed for the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind him.

The next thing he did was turn on the sink faucet to let the water run, then dropped to his knees in front of the toilet and forced his fingers down his throat.

***

"Did you know orange sunflowers exist?
They can grow as tall as you, or me, and...
...they always face wherever the sun is."

The boy lifted his face to look up at the sun shining high in the sky. He had to shield his eyes with his arm to avoid burning his retinas. His almost white eyelashes glowed against the light and shimmered so brightly that something twisted in the adult’s stomach—the adult standing next to him. He crouched down and ruffled the boy’s hair playfully.

"You're a good boy, Katsuki."

The child looked up at him with crimson eyes that made the weight in his stomach grow even heavier, and something deep inside him twisted with a hunger he had felt before—but never with such intensity.

There was a nagging, persistent thought in his mind that he hadn't been able to shake for several days. Ever since he’d gotten this job, to be exact.

The boy turned his attention back to the sunflowers and tugged shyly at the man’s sleeve.

"Can I take one home? Mom likes flowers."

He looked over the tiny pots of baby sunflowers lined up on the ground and the kindergarten kids all standing in an orderly line, Katsuki at the front.

"Not these ones," he lied. "But I can teach you how to grow your own, and then you can give it to your mom."

The boy’s eyes widened in excitement and surprise, and the man smiled at him.

"How do we do that?" the boy asked, sunlight hitting his face again so beautifully that his lashes gleamed like gold, blindingly dazzling him.

"In the greenhouse," the man whispered conspiratorially, making the small boy squirm with a shiver. "You’ll sneak away during morning classes and come with me to the greenhouse. I’ll show you then."

The child looked at him, determined and convinced by the idea.

"Okay," he whispered back. "Do you think it’ll be ready by Mother’s Day?"

The man smiled again, but this time, the smile didn’t fade from his lips a minute later.

Katsuki looked at him nervously as his heart started to race and he broke out into a sweat. The sounds around him suddenly amplified so much that he couldn’t even hear his own voice screaming for help.

It felt like desperation and fear had become a sticky cloak wrapped tightly around his skin, weighing him down like heavy, paralyzing lead, leaving him unable to move—unable even to breathe. The pressure in his chest was so intense that every breath burned its way through his throat and lungs. His head felt like it was being pierced by surgical instruments all at once.

But he couldn’t scream for help.

And the man, who had pretended to be his friend, came closer. His hands touched him everywhere, the smile on his face warping until it became a black, endless void threatening to swallow him whole.

And he touched, and touched, and touched.

A raw buzzing sound tore through Katsuki’s ears as suddenly, his own voice screamed—

"Let me go!"

Cold sweat trickled down his back and forehead, his clothes clinging to his skin, making him feel as if the hands were still clawing at him, trying to tear him open. Harsh, ragged breaths filled the room as he scrubbed at his body, desperate for a peace that remained out of reach, before covering his ears to block out his own terrified whimpers.

He buried his face in his hands and, trembling in powerless silence, cried.

He wondered once again if he would ever be able to block out those catastrophic memories that kept stealing his peace even after all these years.

And he answered himself again: probably not.

Katsuki rose unsteadily from the bed and stumbled to the bathroom, his eyes burning and his vision still blurred by tears. An overwhelming heaviness weighed down his entire body as he stripped off his clothes along the way, locking himself inside the small bathroom stall. He stared at his reflection in the mirror for long minutes, the hair on his arms standing on end in the cold room.

Broken.

Used.

He splashed his face with warm water and began lathering shaving cream on his cheeks.

He knew there were things he needed to talk about—things so rotten and dark that he couldn’t just tell anyone. He had never shared them with anyone in his entire life, and that was exactly why the thought of touching the topic even slightly always made everything so twisted and difficult.

He had considered finding a therapist once—but he didn’t want his parents asking uncomfortable questions either.

Questions that had already been asked at the time and that he had stubbornly denied with every fiber of his being, because that feeling of filth that followed him everywhere and never let him be at peace kept him from letting too much information slip from his mouth—even when it was about his own family.

When he was six years old, he had gone through a phase of selective mutism as a consequence of the abuse that had set off all the alarms at home, eventually leading to him being pulled out of school and placed in a pediatric psychiatric ward, where they weren’t able to get anywhere—either because they were completely incompetent or because this guy was truly so stealthy that no one could connect him to the string of events. One day, suddenly, Katsuki had stopped speaking to everyone except his little sister, but she had been too young to understand what was happening, and his mother, already suspecting something was wrong, homeschooled him for the entire year he refused to open his mouth for anything other than eating and screaming.

Because of that, he fell a year behind in school, and when therapy finally managed to get him to at least communicate in monosyllables, his mother found a special needs school that enrolled him at the grade he had left off. The matter was never investigated further and was never brought up again.

That went on for several years.

Later, on his twelfth birthday—the same summer he decided to start judo training—his temper began to manifest in a strange, though not entirely unexpected way.

After all, he was Bakugou Mitsuki’s son.

He began developing a rather strong, volatile, and irascible personality. He regained his speech, but he remained a solitary and introverted child. Every now and then he would bring home a disciplinary note, but it wasn’t until he turned fifteen and advanced in judo that things started to turn blood red.

The violence that had seemed dormant somewhere deep inside him awoke suddenly with a thirst for revenge he had never experienced before.

And it manifested as uncontrollable, brutal attacks, thrown with lethal intent.

Every time he fought, his mind would go blank until he could only see shadows instead of faces, turning into a cornered animal fighting tooth and nail for his life—even when there was no real threat.

That’s how several of his classmates ended up hospitalized more than three times with serious injuries to the head and face.

Because of him.

On top of that, his short temper became so large and obvious that it became impossible for anyone not to notice; he started having episodes of depersonalization, and migraines that would leave him bedridden for days.

That’s when his mother decided to take him back to the pediatric psychiatric ward. This time to be doped up with medications that would control his temper and keep him docile most of the day. And it worked—for nearly three years. But eventually the doctors discharged him, and even though he felt okay, he still couldn’t dissociate from his own mind.

A rather hilarious fact, in his opinion.

And therapy was a risk. Just the thought of going down that road again after so many years caused such intense pain behind his eyes that it made him want to vomit. He knew he would get stuck in an endless hole and wouldn’t be able to climb out of it even with thirty different pills at thirty different doses.

So he preferred to live with the lingering memory.

It was pathetic, yes, annoying as a goddamn stick up his ass, but it came and went. And he blindly trusted that with time, it would disappear. Maybe when he was old and dying on his deathbed.

The human brain really was something else.

He let out a rough grunt when the razor blade sliced his cheek, and a thick drop of blood immediately formed, spreading over the remaining shaving cream.

He didn’t pay it any attention and continued shaving the other cheek, but he grunted again when he tore another piece of skin from his jaw.

It wasn’t until then that he noticed his hand was shaking.

He sighed and rushed to finish as quickly as possible, which only caused more nicks and cuts, until his face was burning and sore when he finally stepped under the warm spray of the shower.

When he walked toward Building A for his classes, he didn’t care much about the faint, mosquito-like thought buzzing around his mind, reminding him that he had skipped his morning cardio.

He walked in with his face full of patches of dry blood and a half-eaten protein bar. His head was so full of thoughts he couldn’t catch a single one, and it only got worse when he opened the door and the classroom's buzz hit him like every goddamn Monday.

Uraraka was in her usual spot chatting with Mina, accompanied by Momo and Jirou, doing they makeup.

Kirishima, Ojiro, Denki, and Shinsou were all gathered in a circle, apparently chatting too, and in a more secluded corner, Sero and Todoroki were tangled up with arms and legs, clearly flirting—which didn’t surprise Katsuki, but still made him glance twice—and Mineta was crying in another corner while Sato held him up, saying something with a rather pissed-off look on his face, apparently defending Tsuyu from some stupid thing the little creep had done. At that moment, Iida entered the classroom and walked past him straight toward Sero and Todoroki.

“…You can't do that here!”

Right then, the familiar weight of a certain redhead's arm fell over his shoulders, turning him around.

“Bakubro!”

Katsuki took another bite of his bar and blinked at his friend, letting himself be guided—surprising himself with how easily he did so, and how comfortable it felt.

“Hey, Kirishima,” he said, chewing and walking beside him until they stopped with the others.

“We were just talking about you,” Denki said with a goofy smile, his feet up on Shinsou’s desk and a bag of chips in his hands. Chips. At fucking seven in the morning.

“And why’s that?” he asked, genuinely curious.

Shinsou raised an eyebrow at him and gave him a suggestive look that almost made him step back, feeling suddenly attacked.

“Why wouldn’t we be, handsome?” the purple-haired guy said mockingly, clearly struggling not to laugh.

Katsuki scowled, finishing his bar with one last bite and chewing quickly, still not understanding what the hell was going on.

Shinsou, seeing he wasn’t getting it, continued.

“Why’d you avoid us all weekend?” he asked, though something in his voice told Katsuki he already knew the answer, and his stomach twisted with growing anxiety.

“I didn’t—”

“You stayed locked up all Saturday and Sunday, pretty much,” Denki pressed on, that same knowing look on his face. “Only came out to eat and hit the gym.”

“I was studying,” he snapped back immediately, and hated that he sounded genuinely desperate for them to believe him. He didn’t have to prove anything to anyone. Shinsou nodded solemnly.

“We get it. We just wanted to chat about the party and all that.”

Kirishima nodded beside him.

“You left pretty suddenly that night,” he said, scratching his cheek with a somewhat awkward expression.

Katsuki couldn’t shake the feeling that this was some kind of ambush, but no one was saying anything outright, and it was starting to make him anxious. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair and looked around to make sure no one was eavesdropping. Then he leaned in a little and fixed them all with a sharp, narrow-eyed glare.

“Alright, what’s going on? Because—”

“Bro, what happened to your face? Did you shave with a fucking lawnmower?” Denki cut in, eyes wide, examining his face just as Shinsou said:

“Kirishima told us Mina told him that Midoriya told her—”

And at the same time, Aizawa entered the classroom, interrupting with his loud, strict voice:

“Okay, hellspawn, sit down now or I’ll jump out the window and you’ll have to scrape together your pennies to pay for my funeral, ‘cause my insurance doesn’t cover suicide.”

Katsuki heard so many things at once that he got a bit dizzy, but one word stuck and echoed in his mind even after he made it to his seat, staring at the back of a head full of thick green curls tied with a red ribbon.

Midoriya.

And once again, between being so distracted he could barely catch five out of every ten words Aizawa said—and writing down three out of those five—he found the wall clock pointing to 10 AM way too quickly, and the bell rang loud and sharp, making him jump in his seat, his heart pounding so fast his smartwatch clocked his pulse at 110.

Probably the fright, or maybe it was that a certain green-eyed boy was now turning around in his seat to look directly at him.

He swallowed.

They hadn’t spoken again after that early morning conversation on Friday. Izuku hadn’t answered after they said goodnight, and Katsuki hadn’t texted a “good morning” either, too embarrassed and too hungover when he woke up. And Izuku hadn’t knocked on his door either, and the few times Katsuki had left his room to eat or whatever, he hadn’t seen him around the common areas, so he wasn’t even sure if the younger boy had stayed in the dorms over the weekend.

He had probably spent it with his boyfriend.

The thought struck like lightning, making him tense in his seat.

Izuku blinked his big eyes at him, and Katsuki couldn’t help but notice—with a warm flush in his stomach—how color bloomed sweetly over his cheeks.

They stared at each other for a fraction of a second, the world around them slowing down and blurring until everything else became a muffled haze.

“Kacchan,” Izuku whispered on a deep, measured breath, his gaze locked directly onto Katsuki’s with a certain anxious glimmer in his eyes. “Can we talk?”

Katsuki held his breath for a second before nodding and letting the air out in a rush. “Yeah— Yeah, Izuku. Yeah.”

And immediately wanted to kick himself. Too many yeahs.

Izuku mirrored his nod and stood up, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. He waited for Katsuki to do the same, and when they were both standing, he gestured for him to follow toward the door. Katsuki could feel the stares of several classmates burning into the back of his neck, and almost expected someone to say something—but was surprised to find the entire room watching in complete silence.

Outside, the hallways had already begun to fill with students heading toward the cafeteria for breakfast, but Izuku veered off through the glass door. Katsuki felt the brush of his fingers against the back of his hand, a quick attempt to stay connected so he wouldn’t lose him as they squeezed through the growing crowd. In the end, Izuku only managed to grab onto the sleeve of his jacket, tugging him along until they broke free into the garden, where the crisp morning air kissed their faces.

Even then, Izuku didn’t let go. He kept walking until they were several yards away from the outdoor tables, stopping only when they reached the cool, quiet shade of a large oak tree in the middle of the UA flower fields.

Izuku dropped his yellow backpack by the trunk and plopped down right there, leaning back against the bark with a big smile — a smile that was just for him, and Katsuki pressed his lips into a tight line, trying to hide the answering smile tugging at the corners of his own mouth. He sat down beside him, immediately pulling out his bento and water bottle from his bag, unsure whether he should start a conversation or wait for Izuku to take the lead.

He opened the bento very slowly, picking up his chopsticks with the air of someone who had all the time in the world — even though he knew he had only forty minutes to eat and figure out whatever it was he needed to figure out with the other boy — and brought a piece of meat to his mouth.

Izuku pulled out his own water bottle, taking a sip before absentmindedly playing with it between his hands. Katsuki caught the playful, curious glance Izuku threw at him from the corner of his eye, and then felt a soft bump of a shoulder against his — a small nudge meant to break the tension. Izuku let out a laugh, light and infectious, the kind that sometimes escaped him when he was being silly or reckless.

“Kacchan,” he said again, just like he had a moment ago back in the classroom, lifting his face to meet Katsuki’s gaze with pink cheeks and freckles scattered like stars across his skin.
“How are you?”

Katsuki blinked, caught completely off guard.

Somehow, it wasn’t a question he had thought to ask himself for weeks.

Scratching the back of his neck, he fumbled for words that sounded at least halfway convincing.

“I'm fine, Izuku,” he said, maybe a little too fast for his liking, so he quickly added, “Just... tired.”

Izuku nodded silently, his big, curious eyes still fixed on him, waiting. It took Katsuki a few seconds to realize he was supposed to keep the conversation going.

“A-and you?” he stammered, resisting the urge to smack his forehead against the tree trunk.
Izuku’s smile widened.

“I’m tired too,” he said, turning his face toward the open field, letting the breeze play with his green curls. “But it’s fine. Complaining won’t really help.” He plucked a bit of grass from the ground and let it float away on the wind, watching as it twirled and danced.

Katsuki stared at Izuku’s profile for a moment before glancing down at his lunch, then, somewhat shyly, offered him the container.

“Eat, Izuku.”

For a second, Izuku froze.

Then he let out a nervous laugh, shaking his head, obviously embarrassed — but Katsuki could tell it wasn’t as simple as that.

“I'll grab something from the cafeteria later, Kacchan, you don’t have to—”

“You won’t have time to eat at the cafeteria, Izuku,” Katsuki interrupted, setting the bento box on Izuku’s lap and placing the chopsticks on top.
“There’s enough food for both of us. Just eat a little and pass it back when you’re done.”

Katsuki heard the audible gulp Izuku made before he hesitantly picked up the chopsticks. Defeated, he nodded and started eating quietly.

“You know,” Izuku said after a long pause, his voice low and careful as he stared at the ground, chewing slowly, “I’m not really sure how to say this, so I’m just going to blurt it out.” Nervousness was thick in his voice as he raked a hand through his messy curls, clearly desperate for something to cling to. Katsuki had rarely seen him this flustered — it was kind of adorable, but it also made him incredibly anxious. He had a feeling he knew what Izuku wanted to talk about, and no, he wasn’t ready for it. Not at all — “I think... maybe we could, um, go out. A little.”

Katsuki froze because what the actual hell did go out a little even mean?

Izuku, clearly panicking, rushed to clarify with a flood of words, all jumbled and frantic like the beating of his heart.

“I mean—like, it’s a question! I mean, would you want to go out with me? Are you available?”

The words came so fast Katsuki barely caught them. A headache bloomed behind his eyes, warning him of impending doom, and when he finally managed to focus, Izuku was looking straight at him again — cheeks even redder, if that was possible — and Katsuki swore he could almost see steam coming out of his ears.

In the distance, the hum of the cafeteria floated over the fields, mixed with soft laughter and birdsong.

The whole moment felt so surreal, Katsuki wanted to pinch himself just to make sure he was awake.

Crimson and olive eyes locked in an endless second — a moment so intense it felt like they were seeing each other for the first time.

And then Katsuki realized this was real — when soft, velvet lips pressed against his in a sudden, impulsive kiss that left him frozen in place, terrified and stunned all at once. The warm buzz from the alcohol they had shared days ago was long gone, leaving only the raw vulnerability of sobriety behind.

His eyes stayed wide open, catching the flutter of Izuku’s dark green lashes against his cheeks. Warm hands cupped his face, fingertips brushing the rough injuries from his disastrous shaving attempt that morning.

Katsuki flinched, almost expecting Izuku to pull away — but instead, the green-haired boy slid his hands up into his hair, smoothing it back gently before holding him by the nape of his neck.
Izuku’s lips, which had been motionless until now, moved slightly, catching Katsuki’s lower lip between his own in a tentative attempt to deepen the kiss.

Slowly, almost painfully slowly, Katsuki closed his eyes.

His hands were frozen against the grass, unsure what to do, his body leaning back ever so slightly. The same warmth burning his cheeks soon sparked in the pit of his stomach, spreading out like wildfire.

Katsuki did his best to kiss back — the way he remembered seeing it done in movies. Slow, soft, and careful.

He caught Izuku’s upper lip between his own, brushing it lightly with the tip of his tongue before he could second-guess himself.

Then a shiver ran down his spine when Izuku answered with a sound — a soft noise that made Katsuki’s skin prickle all over. Terrified — of Izuku, of his own feelings, of everything — Katsuki broke away, slow but certain.

When he opened his eyes, Izuku was still inches away.

Wide, blown pupils stared back at him.

Then, in a rush, Izuku pulled back, panic flashing across his face, hands flying up to cover his mouth like he was about to scream.

He blinked, gulping for air like a fish out of water, and turned a shade of red that made Katsuki wonder if he was about to choke.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry!” Izuku babbled, running his hands over his face in frustrated panic.

Katsuki just stared at him, still in shock.

“Oh god—I’m so sorry, Kacchan, I totally overstepped—"

“Izuku—” Katsuki tried, wanting to calm him down, but Izuku kept rambling, his hands flailing.

“I should’ve asked first—”

"Izuku," Katsuki said, grabbing the scrawny boy by the shoulders and forcing him to stay still and quiet, giving him a slight shake to snap him out of it. The poor boy looked at him almost suspiciously, but a second later he let out a long, deep sigh that completely deflated him. "It’s fine," the blond added, relieved that Izuku didn’t say anything else and let him finish.

Izuku brought his hands up to his face.

"I think… I kind of like you."

Katsuki fought the urge to bang his head against the oak tree again, because seriously, what the hell did kind of even mean?

Izuku cut through his spiraling thoughts before they could get too dark for his own good.

"I... I know it’s weird," the green-haired boy said, lifting his face again to meet his gaze. His eyes had a strangely bright, glass-like shine to them. "Especially after I told you what’s going on with Haitani and me, and—I know it’s not exactly conventional, but—you attract me, and I figured you should know."

Katsuki honestly didn’t know if he was supposed to say something or just wait for Izuku to keep going, so he just took a deep breath and nodded, letting him know he was paying close attention.

Izuku continued.

"So—I guess the real question is—uhm, do you... like me too?" The air grew so thick Katsuki could swear it felt like an invisible hand was tightening around his throat, as if he were the one speaking. "Do you like me… a little?"

The question lodged itself into his brain like a revolver bullet, piercing straight through his skull and infecting his mind with doubts and thoughts that grew like some kind of contagious disease.

The real question wasn’t whether he liked Izuku.

It was how much.

Did he like him a little? A lot? Kind of, like Izuku said? Three-quarters?

Because it was a fact: he was attracted to him. There was no point in denying it anymore.

But how much did he actually like Izuku?

And what would happen if he said yes?

He pressed his lips into a thin line and cleared his throat before answering.

"I guess I like you," he said, surprising himself because he didn’t even stutter. Then he slowly let go of Izuku and adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "...a little," he added, trying to keep his tone casual.

Izuku blinked and licked his lips, his expression suddenly surprised, like he had genuinely expected Katsuki to say the opposite.

"That’s... that’s great, Kacchan," the greenette said seriously. "I know you said you weren't looking for anything like this, so you don't have to—"

"I'm not," Katsuki cut him off, staring down at the green grass under his feet. "But that doesn’t mean I can’t give it a try." He ran a hand through his spiky hair before adding something that for some reason made him feel a little uneasy: "I-It’s not anything serious anyway."

Izuku looked at him in silence for a second with that same serious expression, then nodded very slowly, like he was standing in front of a wild animal. "Right."

"We’ll just... hang out?" Katsuki asked, genuinely curious.

Izuku nodded again, playing nervously with his hands. "Let’s keep it private for now?"

Katsuki nodded, way too much in agreement with that condition.

"From everyone?"

Izuku froze. Katsuki knew that he knew exactly what he meant by that. It took him several seconds to answer.

"...From everyone."

But that heavy unease kept sitting in his stomach.

"I know you already explained it to me before, but—just to be sure, this isn’t like... you cheating on your boyfriend, right?" His voice wavered slightly as he said it, but he tried to cover it up by clearing his throat and looking directly at Izuku.

Maybe he was a nerd and a virgin and a bunch of other things, but he wasn’t an idiot.
He wasn’t about to start his love life with an affair.

Izuku, in his opinion, took a little too long to answer.

"No," he said at last, nodding emphatically. "Haitani and I have a very clear agreement."

Katsuki nodded, even though something still felt off.

Then Izuku held out the almost untouched bento box to him and smiled, the tension that had been squaring his shoulders finally easing. Katsuki took the container with a grimace when he noticed the other boy hadn’t eaten anything, but decided to let it go and started eating.

Izuku watched him silently, and after two minutes Katsuki started to feel uncomfortable.

"Do I have something on my face?" he asked, mouth full of rice, glancing at him sideways.

Izuku chuckled quietly and nodded.

"Actually, yeah." He turned around to grab his backpack and rummaged through it for a minute until he pulled out a rectangular fabric case. He opened it and took out a few tiny colorful band-aids, then showed them to Katsuki and leaned in close, almost like he was about to kiss him again.

Katsuki instinctively flinched back, his face flushing red and a panicked expression forming, which made Izuku laugh again while peeling a band-aid and gently sticking it onto one of the cuts Katsuki had gotten that morning.

"I’m not going to bite you, Kacchan," Izuku murmured, his voice oddly soft and ticklish in Katsuki’s brain.

Unable to say anything, Katsuki stayed completely still and let Izuku patch him up. When he finished, the younger boy pulled away with a satisfied smile.

"Much better."

Katsuki slowly ran his hand over his face.

"...Thanks."

Izuku nodded, his dazzling smile lighting up his round cheeks and long lashes. Then he zipped up his backpack, slung it over his shoulder, and leaned down to quickly brush a playful kiss against the corner of Katsuki’s mouth — so fast and fleeting he didn’t even have time to blink.

Katsuki just stared at him, frozen in shock.

"I’ll see you later, Kacchan," Izuku said, standing up and walking away under the dull light of the day, his figure disappearing across the flower field back toward the cafeteria.

Katsuki watched him until he crossed the glass doors and disappeared into the crowd.

He kept eating until he finished, then forced himself to down his Plus Ultra protein shake without throwing it all up on the ground.

He honestly wasn’t sure if the decision he’d just made had been the right one. Normally, he was a man who was sure of his choices because he made them with a clear head, after a lot of thought — or at least after weighing the pros and cons in his mind. He was balanced, rational, and objective. But something inside him was gnawing at him, telling him this time had been way too impulsive.

Almost like an imaginary voice was whispering that, for once, he hadn’t thought it through.

He told himself it couldn’t be that complicated.

What could possibly happen?

It was just going out with a guy, not choosing a university major or accepting a job offer.
Those were the kinds of decisions that could turn your life upside down.

He took one last, long gulp of his shake without breathing and swallowed stiffly.

Then he stood up with only one thought in his mind:

What’s the worst that could happen?

Chapter Text

“Anyway,” the redhead wiped his forearm across his lips to clean off the shake mustache, “what happened with Midoriya?”

Katsuki wasn’t surprised that the guy was eager to know—what did surprise him was that it was the first thing he said the moment he came back from the machines and dropped down beside him at the base of the octagon.

Correction. What surprised him the most was that he genuinely seemed curious about it. Like he really had no idea.

Katsuki frowned in confusion.

“Mina didn’t tell you anything?”

Kirishima turned to him with a devastated look. “Are you kidding? That girl is taking Midoriya and Uraraka’s secrets to the grave.”

Katsuki scowled. “But this morning you guys said something ab—”

“We just know you drank a little too much,” the redhead nodded. “That’s all. We were just trying to mess with you.”

Katsuki wanted to punch himself for jumping to conclusions. And at the same time, he wondered if Mina really would take Izuku’s secrets to the grave, or if Izuku hadn’t told her anything about what happened that night.

Let’s keep this private for now.

“Nothing happened,” he lied—and once again that day, he was surprised by how easily the lie came.

“I saw you leave with him earlier,” the other guy pressed. And suddenly it made perfect sense why he and Mina got along so well.

“Nothing happened between Izuku and me Friday, and nothing happened earlier at lunch either. I’m helping him with calculus,” he finished, trying to sound serious without being rude, his eyes fixed on the octagon where two first-years were going at it.

Kirishima nodded, sensing the shift in his tone and accepting that this was the final word on the matter. “Got it,” he muttered. Then added, “It’s… for the best.”

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

He vaguely wondered where the others were. Probably still training. Mirko wouldn’t take long to find them slacking off and send them back to the machines or put them up in the octagon.

“What do you mean by that?” The question slipped out on reflex.

The redhead scratched the back of his neck, looking clearly uncomfortable.

“Midoriya’s… heavy baggage, I guess.” He avoided Katsuki’s eyes.

Katsuki was about to ask again, but caught himself in time and changed it to a firmer, sharper word.

“Explain.”

Kirishima turned to him and raised his hands like he was about to defend himself from what he was going to say next.

“Look, I love Mina, and Mina loves Midoriya—they’ve been friends practically since they were in diapers—but Midoriya’s got some habits, some behaviors, that don’t sit right with me, man. Pretty twisted stuff that maybe I shouldn’t be telling you but— I’ve seen you lately,” he paused, exhaling like he’d been holding it in for hours. “And I know that look you’ve got. I know it because I look at Mina the same way.”

Katsuki frowned. He really didn’t like where this was going. Not even a little.

“Haitani’s already a huge problem in his life, and Midoriya’s got enough of his own issues—and I like you, Bakubro. I don’t want either of them dragging you into something… messy.”

Katsuki sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, that familiar, sharp headache starting to pulse behind his skull.

“Kirishima,” he began, fatigue weighing down his voice, “It’s not what you think.” He looked him in the eyes as the sounds of first-years scuffling on the mat filled the background.

“Baku—”

“I really do appreciate that you care about me,” he added, and for the third time that day, he was surprised by how firm, steady, and unwavering his voice sounded. On that particular day—despite waking up tangled in a web of memories and nightmares, and with a knot in his throat so thick it felt like it might snap his neck—he felt strangely… different. “But seriously, nothing is going on between Midoriya and me.”

Kirishima stared at him blankly for a long moment before realizing this wasn’t going the way he hoped.

The first-years stepped off the mat, and just as Katsuki was about to say something else, Mirko stormed in from the side, arms crossed and eyes demanding answers.

“Why are you slacking off here?” she barked, eyes flicking between the two of them and then to the octagon. The command was clear in her gaze.

Katsuki gave the redhead one last look before climbing the short steps, the other boy right behind him.

“Was this what the whole scene this morning was about?” Katsuki muttered, irritation creeping into his voice. Kirishima stiffened as they reached the top of the octagon, facing each other.

“Three, two, one—go!” Mirko shouted from below, stopwatch in hand and eyes locked on them like a hawk.

“Not exactly—” the redhead began, but barely dodged Katsuki diving straight at his stomach. “Dude, why are you so mad?”

“I’m not mad,” Katsuki grunted between breaths, twisting around to try grabbing him again—and missing once more. A vein began to pulse visibly on his temple as his patience with himself rapidly wore thin. “Just confused.”

“Listen,” his opponent said, keeping his voice calm as he maneuvered into position and managed to grab Katsuki by the neck, cleanly locking one of his arms in a hold that rendered him immobile, “I’m just saying—if you’re thinking about dating someone, you’ve probably got more options.”

Katsuki scowled because he truth was, he didn’t. Where the hell did Kirishima think he was living?

“Oh yeah?”

Not that he was about to admit in front of him that the idea of dating Izuku was even remotely real—but still, the suggestion caught him off guard.

With a swift movement, Katsuki broke free and threw the redhead onto his back with a loud thud. Had it not been for his muscle mass, it probably would’ve broken a shoulder blade.

“That girl Uri asked for your number Friday,” Kirishima called from the floor, eyes wide and chest heaving.

Katsuki stared down at him for a second before launching a flurry of punches aimed at his ribs.

Who the hell was Uri again?

He paused just long enough to look down at Kirishima with total confusion.
“Uri?”

Kirishima took the opportunity to flash a cocky, sharp-toothed grin, then grabbed the back of Katsuki’s head and slammed it to the mat with one strong arm, pinning him in place. He climbed onto his back, securing both a leg and an arm in a lock that made Katsuki gasp in pain and grit his teeth.

“The Cleopatra girl who dragged you to the dance floor,” he clarified quickly, then leaned down to whisper by his ear in a challenging tone, “Give up.”

Katsuki exhaled sharply through his nose, like a bull ready to charge. With one sudden move, he reached behind to grab the other boy by the back of the head and yanked him down with brute force—headbutting him hard. The crunch of Kirishima’s nose echoed in his ear, and the hold on his limbs loosened. Katsuki shoved him off, sending him sprawling on the mat, clutching his face in pain. He hadn’t broken his nose, but it hurt enough to throw him off his game.

Katsuki stared down at him, giving him a couple of seconds to recover, even as that familiar mantra looped in his mind, poisoned by the creeping thorn of anger pressing at his skull.

I’m not an animal.

Kirishima stood up a moment later and got into position, ready to take his offensive strike, which came in the form of a kick to the side just a second after. The boy furrowed his brow thoughtfully but kept chatting mid-fight.

"She’s a pretty girl," he commented casually. "Seemed pretty excited after meeting you."

Then the memory came to him vaguely.

The lights, the music, the sweat, and the sensation of shaking on the edge of a cliff. Then a body pressed up against his.

"Oh yeah, I remember now," he whispered, the realization hitting as he clung tightly to the other boy’s thick torso and squeezed in an attempt to knock the air from his lungs. Kirishima answered with a few hits to the back. "I thought she’d hate me for disappearing like that."

"She doesn’t seem like the grudge-holding type," Kirishima said with a goofy laugh.

"I don’t know, Kiri—"

“Time’s up!”

Mirko opened the octagon gate and pointed at them with an accusing finger that promised all sorts of scolding. She looked at them like she’d just swallowed vomit.

“Hey, Mirk—” Kirishima began, but the trainer’s rough voice cut him off cold and sharp.

“You think this is a place to chit-chat like pretty little girls?” she questioned with a hard, bored glare, arms crossed over her chest and one foot stomping impatiently against the floor.

Katsuki felt his face go red and wasn’t surprised when he saw, out of the corner of his eye, that Kirishima had turned the same color as his hair. All his annoyance suddenly froze in place and was replaced by shame because, truth be told, Mirko was right. They hadn’t given it their all because they’d been gossiping during practice time.

“Sorry, Mirko,” he murmured, eyes lowered. Kirishima nodded and echoed the same apology. She just stared at them in silence for a long moment, then rolled her eyes.

“Teenagers,” she muttered, apparently too annoyed to say anything else or keep lecturing them, and turned around to leave.

The boys blinked, equally confused and scared about what her silence might mean, and once she was out of sight, they let out all the air they’d been holding in one deep sigh.

“Come on, man, let’s hit the showers. Mina invited us for coffee after class.” Kirishima placed a hand on his shoulder and gave a gentle push to lead him toward the locker room.

The boy stiffened but quickly composed himself and stayed still, trying to come up with a quick excuse in his head, only to realize he’d already used them all.

Suddenly, Denki, Sero, Tetsutetsu, Ojiro, Sato, and even Kendo and Hatsume showed up, laughing and joking.

“I’m dying for a frappé,” Hatsume said dreamily while wiping sweat from her forehead with a towel. Kendo beside her gently took her arm and led her toward the girls’ locker room, both waving goodbye to the boys with the promise of seeing them again in fifteen minutes.

Katsuki remained frozen, watching the scene in silence. Then Sero hooked an arm around his shoulders, and he couldn’t help but squirm a bit uncomfortably. Somehow, he’d gotten used to Kirishima’s touch, but he could only tolerate one or two new people at a time. He needed more time to adjust to others being in his personal space—especially if that involved close contact. He began discreetly edging toward the gym doors, but Denki, once again putting his lone brain cell to use, stopped him.

“Hey, bro, where are you going? Showers are this way.”

Sero tightened the arm around his neck.

“I— I’ll shower in the dorms—”

“Again? Why?” This time it was Ojiro who asked.

He bit the inside of his cheek with growing desperation, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as his mind scrambled for a quick excuse. The boys watched him in silence, curiosity shining in their eyes, along with a hint of suspicion.

“…I-I didn’t bring clothes…” he said, in a voice too low to sound convincing, and felt the color drain from his face when Tetsutetsu, standing right in front of him, immediately responded in the kindest and most good-natured tone imaginable:

“No worries, man, I’ve got a clean spare set in my locker you can borrow.”

Katsuki wanted to run. His hands opened and closed, unsure what to do next, sweat quickly forming in every corner of his body because there was no excuse for that anymore. He breathed in, suddenly feeling a deep hatred in his chest that, even if he knew wasn’t directed at Tetsutetsu, his brain still chose him as the sole target of his misery at that moment.

He scratched the back of his neck and looked down at the floor, visibly uncomfortable and not bothering to hide it.

“I can’t accept that, Tetsutetsu,” he said, shaking his head and trying to coat his voice in the same kind tone, even as he was losing his patience. The guy had tried to be nice to him, and it wasn’t his fault.

I’m not an animal.

“…But thanks.”

The gray-haired boy tilted his head, clearly confused.

“Why not? It'll take longer to go back to the dorms and then to the café.”

Katsuki swallowed.

“Because… it’s your clothes and I don’t want to— mess them up or anything—”

“You can wash them and give them back later, really, it’s no big deal—”

“Tetsutetsu, really, I’d rather not—”

“No, seriously—”

“They won’t fit me—”

“What are you talking about? We’ve gotta be the same size—”

“I said no, damn it.”

This time his voice was sharp and firm, his expression shifting to one of complete irritation that left no room for doubt. He had lost his patience and wasn’t willing to argue about it another second. Tetsutetsu stared at him wide-eyed, surprised, and so did Kirishima. The rest of their classmates shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to defuse the suddenly heavy and tense atmosphere, and he almost felt guilty for letting his instincts take over. Almost.

He exhaled loudly through his nose and ran a hand through his hair as if that could clear his head, but it didn’t help at all.

A long minute passed in which everyone exchanged awkward glances in equally awkward silence, while others passed by and watched the strange scene.

Then Kirishima let out a forced, silly laugh that Katsuki knew was meant to lighten the mood, but it helped very little, if at all.

“It’s okay, Bakug—” the redhead began, but Katsuki cut him off quickly, using all his willpower to keep his tone in check and offer an apology to everyone.

“Sorry, I… I’ll just skip the shower. I’ve got dry shower wipes in my locker,” he added quickly and hurried ahead of the rest toward the locker room.

Once he went through the doors, he went straight to his locker and pulled out said wipes, taking off his shirt to start cleaning himself. Curious and amused eyes watched from around him, but he paid them little attention as he focused on his task. No one would ever understand.

He carefully wiped down his upper body and then went into a stall to do the same with his lower half, being especially cautious with his private parts. There, he changed into a casual outfit—loose pants and an oversized shirt with his trusty orange Martens. When he came out, he did a quick rinse of his hair at the sink, and once again, eyes with all kinds of expressions looked at him from behind. Sero, walking out of the shower with a towel around his waist and another on his head, gave him a relaxed smile and a wave.

“No judgment,” the boy said before turning around and taking off the towel around his waist like it was nothing, starting to put on his underwear. Katsuki, standing at the mirror, quickly looked away. He sighed.

“I don’t like public showers… I’ve got a hygiene thing, you know.” He lied, though it wasn’t entirely false. Communal showers did make him uneasy, but that reason only accounted for about 5% of the cause.

Denki appeared from the other side of the hallway, drying his blonde hair and completely naked. He came up beside him and placed what was supposed to be a comforting hand on his shoulder, then said, “You could’ve told us before, Bakugou. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.” But Katsuki couldn’t feel any kind of comfort with a naked Denki that close to him.

“Please put clothes on,” the other blond begged, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath as if that simple act required all his patience. Denki then looked down at himself and laughed like it was nothing.

“Oh— Right! Forgot about that, sorry. I’ll get to it.” He removed his hand from Katsuki’s shoulder and went off to his locker.

Kirishima then showed up at the mirror, fully dressed (thank god), comb and gel in hand. He started styling his hair.

Katsuki finished drying his own hair and packed the towel and the rest of his stuff into his backpack while waiting for the rest of his classmates to finish getting ready. No more than ten minutes passed before Sato, Ojiro, and Tetsutetsu appeared down the hallway. Katsuki’s shoulders tensed slightly under the curious look the gray-haired boy gave him, clearly not forgetting that the excuse for not showering had been a lack of spare clothes, and now there he was, clean and dressed in a fresh outfit. He wondered whether he should explain himself, but his train of thought was interrupted when Denki gave him a gentle nudge on the shoulder toward the exit, and he had no choice but to follow along with the others.

Outside, Hatsume and Kendo were waiting with impatient expressions.

“Since when do you guys take longer in the shower than we do?” the redhead complained, rolling her eyes before walking off through the back exit of the gym, which led directly to the parking lot they had to cross to reach the other campus café—the one that stayed open 24 hours and where you did have to pay for what you ordered. “Mina’s been waiting for us for 10 minutes.”

“She’ll be fine,” Sero said, laughing casually as he brought the phone to his ear and his smile widened. “Shouto? Yeah, a pumpkin spice latte? Sure, babe. Hurry up…”

Katsuki stopped listening once he got ahead of the others, walking across the parking lot.

“It’s a shame the sun’s already gone,” Hatsume said, lifting her head and looking up at the overcast sky, her pink hair waving in the wind behind her. “This time of year is always weird.”

Tetsutetsu agreed with a hum from deep in his throat. “Wouldn’t be surprised if it started snowing next month.”

The conversation flowed between voices until they reached the tables set up outside the café, most of them already taken. Mina was sitting at the two tables pushed together closest to the entrance, sipping noisily on a frappé. Next to her, Izuku was yawning with his own frappé on the table, and on the other side, Uraraka was picking at a slice of chocolate cake.

“Guys, over here!” the pink-haired girl raised her hand to signal them as they approached, weaving through the rest. For noon, the place was pretty full. Katsuki figured maybe it was stew day at the school cafeteria.

He couldn’t help it—his eyes flicked over to Izuku for a split second, but the other boy seemed caught up in a pretty animated conversation with Uraraka, whispering things into each other’s ears and everything, because he didn’t even glance his way. The rest of their classmates sat down, and Katsuki found a seat at the opposite end of the table. A waiter approached and handed out several menus.

Katsuki took the laminated sheet with feigned disinterest.

He wasn’t really hungry, and he wasn’t much of a coffee drinker, but maybe he could find something that clicked.

He ordered a cold brew and quietly watched as the rest of his classmates trickled in and sat down around him.

“Well, old man, you look kinda down,” came Jirou’s voice, monotone yet somehow sweet, as she arrived and sat beside him, a couple of books under one arm and a pair of headphones in the other. “Everything alright?”

Katsuki glanced at her from the corner of his eye and sighed.

“Perfectly,” he replied, clearing his throat lowly, and then just to have something to do with his hands, he absentmindedly adjusted his uniform tie. Jirou looked at him with a teasing smile dancing on her lips and waved at a waiter to bring her a menu.

“Okay,” she relented, taking one of the notebooks she’d been carrying and setting it on the table, pulling out a pen from who knows where and starting to jot something down. “Just saying, you look a little grumpy.”

He massaged his temple with a tired gesture. “I’m just exhausted.”

She nodded in understanding. Before she could say anything else, Izuku’s voice carried clearly from the other end of the tables.

“Guys,” the green-haired boy called their attention, raising his cold coffee topped with whipped cream. “Uhm, as you all know, in November the university football season starts here in Tokyo,” a barely-there smile appeared on his face and then he bit his lip with a bit of nervousness. “Since Haitani’s playing, he asked me to invite all of you to the game.”

A few victorious sounds and cheers of excitement erupted around the table. Denki was the first to jump.

“Is it free? I hope it’s free.”

Izuku chuckled softly and took a sip of his frappé. “It’s free. They’ll cover all the tickets he needs.”

Denki let out a low whistle. “Now that’s power.”

Katsuki fought the urge to roll his eyes just as the friendly waiter brought him his cold brew with a smile and handed Jirou her lemon pie and a cup of tea.

“So, I need you guys to let me know by tonight at the latest who’s coming, please,” Izuku finished with a more relaxed smile, and then his eyes flitted shyly around the table until they landed on a pair of deep, demanding amber eyes staring at him in silence from the other end. “Just send a message in the group chat, yes or no, so I can count everyone, okay?”

“But when exactly is the game?” Yaomomo asked from her seat next to Jirou.

Izuku seemed to think for a moment, then quickly checked his phone. “I think it’s on November 5th, Friday,” he said, nodding. “At 9 PM.”

Yaomomo thanked him and immediately the group chat buzzed with the notification of her message.

Katsuki checked the calendar on his phone in silence and saw that he had the time free, but he already knew that. Somehow he just wanted to play it cool in front of Izuku, so he didn’t want to send his message just yet. He liked sports—even if he wasn’t a fan—but he wasn’t sure how he felt about going to watch the boyfriend of the guy he was now sort of hooking up with get tackled to the ground.

A sardonic laugh almost escaped him at the mere mention of the word, but he managed to hold it in until it was just an ironic smile for himself. He covered his face with one hand, but it was too late for Izuku’s hypnotic green eyes not to catch the odd chain of events.

The boy looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

Katsuki wished the ground would swallow him whole.

He straightened in his chair, rubbing his face with the palm of his hand in a desperate attempt to smooth out his expression and then stupidly adjusted his blazer. Izuku chuckled softly and looked away. Katsuki felt even more idiotic, because honestly, he had no idea what the hell he was doing.

He ran a hand through his hair, and Jirou’s mocking laugh reached him instantly.

“So that’s what’s got you all moody,” she said, playing with her fork between her lips while reading something in her notebook.

Katsuki suddenly felt himself flush and cursed his entire bloodline for no apparent reason.
“It’s not what—”

“Sure, champ,” she said without even turning to look at him, “But I didn’t say anything.”

He frowned.

“Now you’re trying to make me confess by myself.”

“Confess?” Now she did look at him, the expression on her face completely offbeat as she placed a hand on her chest for dramatic effect. “But I haven’t accused you of anything. ‘Confess’ is a very strong word, Bakugou—did you do something you shouldn’t have?”

He looked at her with narrowed, suspicious eyes, fully aware of her intentions, and crossed his arms over his chest like a rock.

“No. I haven’t done anything.”

A smile slowly spread across the girl’s lips.

“Great. Then nothing’s wrong. I’m just saying—I think I figured out why you’re so grumpy today.”

Katsuki gave her that same doubtful look and then took a long sip of his coffee. She closed her notebook and gave him a friendly smile that crinkled her eyes.

“And why’s that, according to you?”

Her eyes shifted toward something behind him and then back to his face. “I heard you tell Kiri this morning that you didn’t do your cardio circuit when you woke up.”

The blond blinked—because that was true, but he didn’t know if the girl was just nosy or had incredible hearing.

She tilted her head and widened her smile in response to the question he hadn’t voiced aloud.

“I have great hearing.”

He raised an eyebrow and took another sip of coffee. “Fine. You’re right.”

She patted his arm in a friendly way. “See? But no need to ruin your day over something like that. You’re here now, with your friends, enjoying a coffee.”

Katsuki wanted to correct something in that sentence, but figured it might come off rude, so he stayed quiet. The girl continued.

“So,” she added cheerfully, taking a bite of pie, chewing, and swallowing quickly. “Have you decided what major you’re applying for?”

The blond shrank into his seat. The light chatter of his classmates swirled around him and overwhelmed him slightly, but he managed to untangle his thoughts just enough to grab hold of one and lay it out on the table inside his brain. He inhaled.

“I think it’ll be Aerospace Engineering.”

The girl stared at him, mouth agape.

“Excuse me, what?”

Katsuki scratched the back of his neck, unsure if she hadn’t heard or just wanted him to repeat it.

“Uhm.”

Jirou blinked, like trying to force that information into her brain and pin it down so she wouldn’t forget it, then turned to look at Momo with the same stunned expression on her face. The black-haired girl just smiled a little sadly as she looked between the two.

“You heard that too, right?” Jirou asked the other girl as she grabbed Katsuki’s arm and shook it like he was the one in shock.

“Yes, Kyoka-chan,” Yaomomo replied in her always kind voice. “It’s truly admirable and I’m very happy for you, Bakugou-san. I’ve heard it’s a very well-paid field and there aren’t many properly trained graduates.”

Katsuki nodded in her direction. “Thank you,” he muttered.

“What made you choose that?” Jirou turned back to look at him again and let go of his arm, her wide, curious eyes searching his. “You told me you had no idea, and now suddenly you hit me with the big decision—you wanna work for NASA!”

The boy calmly smoothed the sleeve of his blazer and sighed. “I didn’t say—”

“Aerospace!”

He rolled his eyes. “I like it. I’ve got a relative who works in that field. Overseas. He’s doing alright,” he shrugged. “Had a talk with my parents and they approved. Himiko’s taking over the family business. That’s it. Nothing else to say. And I never mentioned NASA specifically.”

Jirou rested her cheek in her hand, weighing the information.

“Swear I expected medicine at most, but not this.”

A vein throbbed on his forehead. “Why not?”

The girl looked up at the cloudy sky and then back at him.

“Never took you for the kind of guy who’d dare to fly.”

“I don’t like it,” he shot back immediately, his gaze low and fixed on the point where the tables met. “And I won’t. I’ll help build so others who do like flying can do it.”

Jirou fell quiet for a long moment, and before she spoke again, she gave his shoulder a barely-there squeeze.

“I think you’d really like flying.”

Katsuki looked at her for what felt like an eternity, as the wind tossed her violet hair around her face. She looked so beautiful.

Suddenly, the sound of a chair scraping the floor snapped him out of his trance.

“I’ve got 10 minutes to get there,” Izuku’s voice said as he slung his backpack over his shoulder and finished his frappé with a loud slurp. “If I’m late, Nagant won’t give me a pass— I don’t even know—”

Katsuki heard himself speak before he could stop it.

“Do you need a ride?” he blurted out, adrenaline spiking from who-knows-where, drawing everyone’s attention to him with interest. A few glances even hinted at amusement. He hadn’t even noticed he was already standing. “B-because if you’re running late that… could be… a problem… for you.” he added stupidly as he slowly sat back down to avoid putting pressure on the boy. Heat rose to his face and made him shrink in his seat. Izuku looked at him in silence for a moment, frozen, and Katsuki noticed a soft pink tint bloom on his cheeks, making it impossible to look away. Katsuki braced for rejection, but what came next caught him off guard.

Izuku gave him an almost angelic smile, clutching the straps of his backpack, and nodded in his direction.

“That’d be great, Kacchan. Thanks.”

Katsuki blinked.

Paralyzed, he stared at him until Jirou nudged him lightly on the left. He snapped out of it. The girl gave him a look that practically screamed Well? Are you gonna move or what?

He grabbed his backpack and got to his feet awkwardly to head for the parking lot, Izuku at his side.

“See you later, guys,” he heard the green-haired boy say goodbye to their friends behind them, and he simply raised a hand in farewell to Kirishima, Denki, and Sero, who shouted their goodbyes from the table.

When they had walked far enough for the cafeteria chatter to fade behind them, Katsuki spoke.

“Uhm, I’ll need you to put your ballet school’s address into the GPS,” the blond said, handing his phone to the other boy with the app already open.

Izuku took the phone and started typing quickly as they kept walking. “Done,” he murmured, handing the device back and then scratching his cheek shyly. “I really hope I’m not bothering you, Kacchan.”

The other boy turned to look at him, surprise in his eyes.

“What?—Not at all, I offered.”

Izuku smiled at him, dimples and all. “Thanks,” he repeated. He stayed quiet for a couple of seconds, as if debating something before adding, “Would you like to stay and watch my class?”

Katsuki looked at him with that same expression of perplexity for the second time in less than five minutes and ran a hand through his hair to snap himself out of it. He opened and closed his mouth for a moment before he managed to form a coherent sentence in his brain to answer.

“I—Sure.” He replied, unsure if he should add something else to his poor answer, but Izuku spoke again before he could.

“It’s a pretty long class… so it’s okay if you can’t, or only stay for a bit,” the boy said quickly but with that same smile that showed he’d be fine with either. “I know you’re busy.”

The older one frowned for a moment and stopped walking when they reached his car. He couldn’t help leaning slightly over the other when he said, “I can stay for the whole class.”

Izuku stopped walking too and looked up at him. From Katsuki’s perspective, Izuku’s face from that angle seemed irresistibly attractive.

“Don’t you have to study?” Izuku then asked, but there was a hint of flirtation in his tone and in the way he fluttered his lashes in his direction.

“I can bring my backpack. Is there a place I can sit and watch?” Katsuki had to bite his tongue because he was about to say watch you.

“There are benches in the room, so you can see and hear everything.” The green-haired boy said with a lazy smile, lips like cherries that did things to the taller one’s stomach he didn’t want to examine too closely at that moment.

Izuku opened the passenger door and got into the car, leaving him standing there with his tangled thoughts and tingling lips. He hurried to get in on the other side, tossed his backpack in the backseat, and started the engine. He opened the GPS on his phone, which immediately synced to the car’s GPS, and the screens connected.

He started to pull out of the parking lot.

Somebody Told Me by The Killers started playing over the speakers and Katsuki couldn’t help but nod his head to the beat as they left the school and joined the main road.

There was something strange in the air now between him and Izuku. Not bad strange. But not good strange either. Just something different. Something that couldn’t be touched or seen but could definitely be felt without much effort, and that unsettled him a bit. If it was that obvious to him, was it obvious to others too? How were they going to keep this private if things started to feel so real?

But wasn’t that the whole point? If it weren’t real, then what was it?

He wasn’t sure it was the right decision, and he wasn’t willing to be Izuku’s new toy, but he didn’t want to keep living his life just going through the motions either.

If what Kirishima said was true, then he just had to be careful.

Himiko’s words echoed in his head once again.

Five minutes later, he was parking in front of a building painted black with large glass doors, and Izuku was hastily pulling his backpack out of the backseat. He figured he should hurry too, so he grabbed his backpack and followed the boy running into the building.

Once inside, the shorter one seemed torn between taking the stairs or the elevator, but upon seeing the latter would take a few more minutes, he grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the stairs with a speed that pleasantly surprised him.

“It’s only three floors,” the boy said as he climbed two steps at a time and he followed. Fortunately for both, that wasn’t a problem, but Katsuki couldn’t help imagining the opposite scenario where his physical condition was a disaster and he couldn’t climb three flights of stairs at that pace. In less than five minutes, they reached the floor and Izuku carelessly pushed him through a wooden door that led to a large dance room where several people were already engaged in some activities.

Katsuki froze for a moment, stunned by everything happening around him, barely aware that Izuku was walking past him toward the back of the room, beginning to take off his clothes to reveal the outfit he had underneath.

The boy quickly slipped on a pair of cream-colored slippers that Katsuki found very curious and ran to introduce himself to a woman with magenta hair who stood in a corner of the room, watching the other dancers do pirouettes and other things. From his position, the woman seemed to have a stern expression and the most rigid posture Katsuki had ever seen.

Izuku was saying something to her in a low voice, but she didn’t even look at him.

Instead, at an unexpected moment, she lifted her gaze and looked straight at him.

Purple scrutinized and judged him from head to toe in under a minute. Then Izuku also looked at him and wrung his hands with what he identified as growing nervousness.

The boy looked toward something behind him and then back at him, and Katsuki turned his head to find a row of benches behind a small plastic fence with a tiny gate in the middle. He quickly opened the gate and sat on the first row of benches to observe the class up close, feeling Izuku’s eyes on the back of his neck, though when he turned around, neither he nor the woman was paying him any attention anymore.

Katsuki watched closely and carefully as Izuku’s figure moved so gracefully and naturally around the room that he felt breathless for a moment. He watched the boy for so long that he didn’t actually know how much time had passed until he snapped out of it and forced himself to stop being such a creep before Izuku noticed, so he pulled out a couple of books from his backpack and, trying to find the most comfortable position he could without a desk to lean on, got to work.

Katsuki would be lying if he said it wasn’t hard to keep his eyes and mind focused on his studies when Izuku was right in front of him (literally, right in front of him), with his compact and yet powerful form contorting into twenty different positions, stretching the ligaments of his body that clearly seemed to be made of some very elastic material. The blond couldn’t help the expressions of pain that formed on his face as he watched not only Izuku but the rest of his classmates doing the same, and he couldn’t imagine himself in that exact position, a shiver running from head to toe. Every now and then, his eyes met the olive ones of the shorter boy, and he managed to draw more than one smile from him.

Well, all of this was new to him, thanks.

Also, the fact that it was Izuku of all people standing in front of him pulling a foot to his head, dressed in a leotard that was practically a second skin and gave free access to miles of creamy skin sprinkled with bronze freckles—

Stop.

He clenched the book in his hands and bit the inside of his cheek. He forced himself to look back at the scribbles in his notebook and began solving his study guide as accurately as he could with his mind as distracted as it was.

But he wasn’t stupid. He could clearly feel Izuku’s gaze on him from time to time, and the murmur of conversation in the room reached him from afar, slowly dragging him back toward him.

Suddenly, a loud and urgent voice rose above the others to give an order.

“Everyone, to the center.” The purple-haired woman said as she moved to the front of the class, the walls covered in mirrors giving the false illusion that there were twice as many people in the room. Katsuki quickly counted them. There were maybe around 20, well spread out in the rather large space.

The young people stood still, straight as statues, and the blond swore they weren’t even breathing while silence reigned in the room. He couldn’t see her face clearly, since she was giving her back to him at that moment and he could only see her profile, but he assumed she had the same haughty look and severe expression she’d had an hour ago. Then, with a voice of iron, she started saying a string of words in another language, French perhaps, that Katsuki didn’t understand at all, and the others, like puppets, began to move all in perfect, cold synchrony.

Izuku was at the center and in front, right before her, so the blond could see him perfectly in every movement and contraction he made each time the woman uttered a new word. Katsuki assumed she was giving them commands, maybe forming some kind of choreography, and they moved to the rhythm of a crude classical melody playing in the background through the studio’s speakers—but it didn’t set the pulse for their movements. Still, despite how fast the woman went, they all seemed to catch everything so perfectly and without making a single mistake that Katsuki was stunned for a second. The whole scene looked surreal to his eyes, like watching an original ballet from the golden era. Maybe he was too easily impressed, but that didn’t make what he was seeing any less amazing. He ran a hand through his hair in disbelief, blinking and unable to keep up with the speed at which the bodies were moving.

Suddenly, they started to spin.

Spins and twirls everywhere, and the blonde could clearly see the momentum in the muscular legs as they flexed and then stretched in an inhuman effort to complete another spin.

He felt his own head spinning and spinning endlessly.

He lost count of how many times that routine was repeated, but there came a point where, as much as he would have loved to keep watching in awe at the marvels of the human body, there was a number of spins, twirls, and circular movements that his head could handle, so he went back to focusing on his own matters once more.

At some point, the dancers stopped and went to the back of the room to drink water and do other things he couldn’t quite make out. He saw Izuku grab his water bottle and chat cheerfully with a short, blonde-haired girl, then confidently walk toward him.

"Hey Kacchan," the green-haired boy called out to him while leaning over the small plastic fence, giving him a big smile, sweat dripping down his temples and neck as he took another sip from his bottle. "Are you bored?"

Katsuki smiled back, a bit more reserved and above all polite, while bringing a hand to the back of his neck. "Not at all," he then glanced at his watch and was surprised at how quickly the time had passed. "In fact, I didn’t even notice that almost four hours had gone by."

"I saw you pretty busy with that too," Izuku said, nodding toward the books in his lap.

"A bit," Katsuki shrugged nonchalantly. "But I think I’ll stop for today. I’m getting hungry, and your class is more interesting."

Izuku bit his lip.

"Honestly, I thought you'd get bored."

"Not at all."

Then he gave him that same bright smile from earlier.

"Good. It’s good to know that." Then the boy kept his gaze low for a moment, still smiling, though he seemed lost in some thought that crossed his mind. Katsuki scratched the back of his neck, a bit uncomfortable, but was startled when the boy seemed to snap out of his daydream and leaned forward, grabbing the edge of the fence to speak more closely. "Oh—there aren’t any vending machines or anything here, but—there are just two more hours of class left, and then we’ll be done, so you’ll be able to eat something soon, sorry—"

Katsuki quickly shook his head and stopped him in his tracks with a raised palm. "Don’t worry, Izuku. We can go out for dinner when you’re done here."

He wasn’t sure where that had come from, because the next thing he felt was an electric current running from head to toe, followed by raw panic settling at the base of his skull. Did he just invite Izuku out? Just like that?

Mean, they were already sort of seeing each other, but—

The boy went silent and looked at him. Green olive eyes lit up with what seemed like excitement before blinking in his direction, and Katsuki swore he could feel whirlwinds of air forming with the mere flutter of his lashes.

"Katsudon?" Izuku asked, his voice cheerful and expectant, to which he could only nod slowly and stupidly.

Then, just as he had come, he had gone.

Lately, Katsuki felt incredibly stupid and so different.

Izuku’s teacher’s voice abruptly pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Okay, let’s go to the general rehearsal. Act I, Scene II." She said, raising her hands to indicate that everyone should take their positions, and no one took more than a second. Katsuki packed his things into his backpack and sat with his arms crossed, waiting. He assumed this was the most important part of the class, judging by the seriousness and tension that suddenly filled the room. Even he felt as if a weight had been added to his shoulders.

All the dancers took their positions around the room, and she once again stood at the front with her phone in hand, checking something before giving them all that same hard look of superiority. Izuku stood still in a corner, contorted into a position that looked very uncomfortable, mirroring the short blonde girl who was on the opposite side.

Suddenly, soft violin music filled the room from the speakers, echoing against the mirrored walls and slowly seeping into his senses like a lullaby, at the same time making him feel as if he were floating. The dancers remained still as the music played, slow and delicate, gradually picking up pace and building to a crescendo, shifting from andante to allegro. Then, the young dancers entered the scene, limbs straight and angular, toes pointed, and it was as if everything around him disappeared except for a pair of olive eyes and dark emerald curls.

Katsuki had rarely in his life had the opportunity to experience a memorable moment. Family trips, some of his birthdays, random fragmented memories, and now, more recently, his first kiss.

Katsuki would say that watching Izuku dance for the first time was also a memorable experience.
It was a memory he would like to treasure for many years to come, and that thought hit him like a rock straight to his stomach.

How long had he known Izuku?

Three months, maybe.

The green-haired boy took the girl in his arms and spun her with the delicacy that Katsuki by now knew was so typical of Izuku, then floated away from her with small, bouncy steps toward the edge of the room.

It was like watching a magical creature dance and express itself through a language that didn’t need words to convey what it needed the rest to understand. Katsuki felt captivated, and at the same time threatened by the power that he knew Izuku had over him at that moment.

He orbited around him like a satellite.

And each time, he found himself in a more desperate race to catch up.

Like Icarus to the sun.

Izuku returned to her with arms outstretched, receiving her in an embrace that, although angular and stylized, left the viewer with a tender taste of longing that quickened his heartbeat.

The girl was undeniably pretty, and although he didn’t know a damn thing about ballet, he could say with full certainty that she had immense talent, but it was impossible for the poor girl to steal the spotlight from Izuku.

There was something simply innate and intrinsic in the way Izuku’s body contorted with every movement, in every breath he took, and in every playful curl bouncing on his beautiful, sweat-dripping head.

He was the protagonist, not her.

One could reach that conclusion as soon as they laid eyes on the scene.

He was delicate, precise, striking, magical… a spectacle in every sense of the word.

"Lift your face, Midoriya!" The woman shouted at the boy so close to his face that Katsuki was sure particles of her saliva landed in his corneas. "And you’re not even pointing your foot, for heaven’s sake!"

Katsuki blinked, bewildered but also confused.

Izuku seemed dazed for a second, his body swaying slightly with what Katsuki identified as doubt, but he quickly did what she had ordered and lunged forward with his face held high. She seemed satisfied for the moment and moved to the other side of the room to continue shouting the rhythm of the steps out loud while everyone followed her in perfect sync.

Katsuki was uncomfortable.

The rest of the two-hour rehearsal was just as tense, with that woman yelling at Izuku every five minutes for anything. At first, the boy had recovered easily and had been able to face her, fixing the mistakes she insisted he had, but after the first hour, the courage and enthusiasm in Izuku’s olive eyes had faded into something akin to exhaustion and boredom.

He might have also seen a couple of tears that didn’t fall.

The others barely noticed her call him out once or twice, but with Izuku, it was clearly different.

Katsuki knew that this type of discipline was tough—that teachers were a bit crazy, and all that, more than usual—but for him, this was bordering on harassment.

He could feel from Izuku’s movements that the boy felt beaten and defeated, but above all, humiliated.

He, on his part, felt quite uneasy. The clock showed it was 10:45.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Izuku slowly approaching his teacher.

She looked down at him with an expression of boredom.

"What’s up, Midoriya?"

Unfortunately, most of his classmates had already left, so it wasn’t too hard to hear their exchange of words now that everything was silent. The blonde wanted to feel bad for paying so much attention to the conversation but told himself he couldn’t just cover his ears. He pretended to be looking for something in his backpack to give them privacy.

“…Miss Nagant, first of all, I wanted to apologize."

Katsuki furrowed his brows in a confused gesture, his face tilted down, looking at the bottom of his backpack. A silence followed Izuku’s words before the woman spoke.

"And why is that?"

"For my poor performance," Izuku said hurriedly. Katsuki could guess he was nervously wringing his hands. "I don’t mean to, but I promise—"

She cut him off with a sigh that showed her exhaustion. "I won’t threaten you anymore, Midoriya." She pulled out a cigarette from her bag and lit it nonchalantly. "If you want me to give the part to someone else, I’ll do it."

Katsuki couldn’t help but raise his head to look at Izuku’s expression at that moment.
The boy was pale.

"No, Miss Nagant, please, I really—"

"I’ve heard that from you dozens of times, Midoriya." She said with that same bored tone that made something in Katsuki’s blood start to boil slowly.

"I swear I’ve been trying, I don’t know why—"

"Are you implying that I’m exaggerating when I say you’re not trying hard enough?"

"Not at all, I—"

“Take a couple of days off, Midoriya.” The woman took a deep drag of her cigarette and then blew all the smoke in Izuku’s face, which he received without blinking. “I think there are things stressing you out besides this, and you’re not handling it well. If you don’t get your head in order, you’re going to mess it all up.” Then she looked him in the eyes as if she wanted to pierce him. There was warning in her gaze, but also understanding and something that Katsuki thought resembled concern. “It would be a shame if you ruined your future, because I’m sure big things are coming for you. But I won’t allow you to ruin my company’s future too because you’re too weak to handle the pressure. So take Friday off. Saturday and Sunday are rest days, so I’ll see you Monday. Make sure to rest.”

Izuku stared at her, frozen, for a long minute, processing the information.

She took another drag of her cigarette, and when she saw that the boy wasn’t going to move or say anything, she said, “Well, are you going to leave or what?”

Then the green-haired boy bowed with his back painfully straight and nodded, completely grateful, before heading to the back of the room, grabbing his backpack, and starting to cover himself with layers of new clothes.

Katsuki stayed observing the woman for a moment, who, after finishing her cigarette, left the classroom, leaving them alone, and then his gaze shifted to Izuku, who approached him with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes and pointed to the door to let him know it was time to leave. He stood up and followed him through the studio until they returned to the hallway they had come through, which led them directly to the elevator.

The silence was awkward, and he could see, from the corner of his eye, the tension in Izuku’s shoulders as he walked beside him, his hands gripping the straps of his backpack and his gaze fixed on the floor.

“That was incredible,” he said, trying to break the tension and release some of the stress that had the shorter rigid, while he saw him pushing the elevator button. He added a low laugh that, to his misfortune, came out too forced, so he stopped it immediately. Izuku kept his position, head down, clutching his backpack as if his life depended on it. Katsuki had never seen him so embarrassed, and honestly, it was a bit devastating.

“…You don’t have to lie,” the boy murmured, his voice quiet, and Katsuki could see a trembling, defeated, curving smile forming on his lips. Before he could respond, the boy added, “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

Panic slowly crept up Katsuki’s back.

“Izuku, no—”

Then the boy turned to look at him, and Katsuki felt his blood leave his body when two fat tears rolled down Izuku’s cheeks. He wasn’t good at comforting anyone, he didn’t even know what to do when he cried himself. The ding of the elevator indicated it had arrived, and when the doors opened, Izuku didn’t wait for him to get on but stepped in while shyly wiping his face with the collar of his coat and fell silent again.

“Izuku,” Katsuki murmured, grateful there was no one else in the elevator when the doors closed. He turned to look at the shorter boy and gently placed his hands on his shoulders, leaning in to see his face. The boy kept sobbing silently, heavy tears falling from his lashes. He stared at him for a long moment, mentally crafting words, while also waiting for the elevator to open so they could get off. When they finally got off, he did nothing but pull the boy into his arms, giving him a hug that he hoped would convey all the support he knew the other needed. He knew Izuku needed words of encouragement, but he didn’t think that was the right place, so he’d do that a little later. He took the liberty of planting a very reserved kiss on his cheek, then took his hand to lead him out of the building.

They were heading to the car when Izuku stopped behind him and tugged at his hand to make him turn toward him. His sad and tired expression had been replaced by a genuine smile that this time truly made his eyes shine under the moonlight.

“There’s a place around the corner that sells amazing katsudon,” Izuku began walking in the opposite direction of the car, and he followed him as if all it took was snapping his fingers.
The streets were crowded with people, being a weekday night in a busy area of downtown Tokyo, and they didn’t walk more than five minutes before reaching the place the greenette had mentioned, which was actually just a few steps from the building. The place was a small Japanese home-style food diner with a casual atmosphere, not very spacious but cozy, and there were several tables outside. It looked modest and there weren’t many people, so the blonde immediately liked it. They decided to eat at an outside table. It didn’t take long for their orders to arrive.

“I sometimes come here to eat when I’m too lazy to cook in the dorm,” Izuku said while drinking his strawberry soda. Then he added, laughing, “When I lived with my mom, she never let me eat out.”

They had been eating and chatting about everything and nothing. Katsuki swallowed the bite he had in his mouth and then hesitated, looking at his plate.

“You know,” he said, unsure how to approach the topic but feeling that if he waited for the right moment, it might never come, and Izuku might think he didn’t care about what he was feeling and going through, when in reality, it was quite the opposite. “I don’t know anything about ballet—actually, I don’t know anything about dancing in general, but,” he paused to take a sip of his drink. Izuku was now looking at him with wider, more attentive eyes, something in his gaze full of expectation. “I think what you do is really… beautiful.”

He felt his head get hot, but forced himself to continue.

“I don’t think you’re not giving your best,” he shook his head, a bit frustrated. “I think you’ve been stressed, and that’s normal, but today I saw you… give your all, even if she doesn’t seem to see it, and I’ve only seen it once.” His eyes, which had been fixed on his plate until that moment, then lifted to meet Izuku’s jade eyes, which were looking at him with something he couldn’t quite decipher. “I think what you do is magical and beautiful… and unique. You shouldn’t let anyone take that away from you or tell you otherwise. You’re beautiful—I mean—the things you do—and the effort—”

The next thing he knew, he was tangled in a pathetic, sad verbal vomit he tried to fix but only made worse with every word he added to the equation until Izuku’s laugh brought him back to the present.

“…I’m just saying, you’ll do amazing, in your recital and your audition,” he finished in a whisper that took all of his manliness.
Izuku looked back at him, his face flushed, and his lips trembling as he tried to hold back a smile that eventually won and spread across his face as if painted by a magical brush.

He adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose, and Izuku took a sip of his soda, still with that smile on his face.

“Thanks, Kacchan,” he said, biting his lip. “That’s really kind of you.”

Actually, Katsuki hadn’t expected him to say anything more. In fact, he preferred if Izuku didn’t say anything about it, so he immediately focused on continuing to devour what was left of his plate and lowered his gaze to avoid looking the boy in the eye. He shook his head to downplay the matter.

“It’s just the truth.”
Izuku ate in silence, but Katsuki was perfectly aware that the smile didn’t leave his lips, even when he chewed.

Something strange pulsed in his chest.

The rest of the dinner passed in a strangely comfortable silence that eased something Katsuki hadn’t known had been anxiously stirring inside him since that morning.

Izuku looked happy, irresistibly handsome under the moonlight and the stars that night, and while the wind tousled his rebellious curls against his nose and cheeks, Katsuki wanted more than ever to hold his face and steal a kiss from his lips like cherries.

The mere thought took him by surprise, and he felt as if he were sinking into the pavement and the earth was swallowing him forever.

How did people make it look so easy all the time?

When it was time to pay, he didn’t hesitate to stop Izuku when he made a move to take his wallet out of his pocket.

“I invited you, Izuku,” said the blonde, leaving a couple of bills in the waiter’s hand as he stood up and grabbed his backpack, with Izuku following suit with a shy expression on his face.

“Now let’s go, it’s late.” Without thinking further, he extended his hand, waiting for the other to take it, and after waiting no more than two seconds, a proud, smug feeling bloomed in his chest when Izuku took it.

They walked through the crowded streets back to the car, leaving behind a trail of reconstructed dreams that made their hearts beat to a new synchronized rhythm.

***

When Izuku arrived at the stadium, the presence of the others, although expected since they had confirmed a few days earlier, still caught him by surprise.

He had made sure to arrive at least 10 minutes before the game started, intending to arrange the seats for everyone despite them all being numbered because he knew that in those events, things always got out of control, and he was greatly surprised to find his friends already well settled in their seats, even eating some snacks. His friends were well-known for not respecting punctuality too much. Ochako waved at him with her hand while stuffing popcorn into her mouth.

“We wanted to arrive a little earlier, Izuku,” she said with her cheeks full of popcorn. “To avoid fighting for seats and all that, you know how these things get even when you have an assigned number.”

Izuku knew this very well, so he was secretly grateful. He nodded in her direction and walked over to sit beside the girl, where two more seats were empty. He knew who they belonged to, as he had carefully handed out the numbers. Kirishima, Mina, Ochako, Himiko, him, and Kacchan. The rest were just organized a bit randomly, and a little based on his not-so-objective judgment.

It was Friday night and it was his day off, fortunately. The words of Miss Nagant still lingered in his mind like a mantra, reminding him again and again how wrong he had been about everything lately, raw and cruel, directly attacking his self-esteem. He had an unfamiliar emptiness in his chest that made him anxious, and a restlessness in his head that kept him in a state resembling extreme wakefulness and wouldn’t let his guard down even enough to let his body seek rest, so he was more tired than usual and had been abusing energy drinks; the dark circles under his eyes showed the days of exhaustion he had been dragging and the hours of sleep he had been missing for weeks.

“I bought you some popcorn,” Mina said from beside Ochako when he sat next to the brunette, offering him the overflowing paper bag. He looked at her with a slightly complicated expression, trying to come up with an excuse to turn down the offer but finally accepting out of politeness.

“Thanks, girls,” he murmured, leaving the bag on the empty seat beside him to avoid someone else taking it. When Kacchan arrived, he would give it to him so he wouldn’t have to eat it himself. “I see almost everyone has arrived.”

Ochako nodded, her shiny hair waving under the white spotlights hanging over the bleachers. “I think only Bakugou, Himiko, and Shinsou are left,” she said, taking a sip of her cola. “Shinsou said he had extra classes with Aizawa, so he left during rush hour and got stuck in traffic.”

Mina, beside her, pointed to the row behind them, and Izuku turned to see in that direction, finding an empty seat. “Denki is saving his spot.”

Izuku nodded in understanding. He and Kacchan had talked a lot since the day he invited him to his class. However, even though he knew he would be coming to the game, he hadn’t said anything specific about arriving late or anything like that. He vaguely wondered if maybe he too was stuck in traffic, even though technically it wasn’t late yet, but—

“Izuku!”

The familiar voice made him snap back to attention, and he turned his head to identify where the sound had come from.
Dark eyes stared at him from below the bleachers, accompanied by a spark of something he recognized as warning and another thing he couldn’t identify.

The boy returned the look with the most natural smile he could muster.

“Take off your sweater,” Haitani ordered with a sly smile as he looked him up and down, hands on his hips and a superior pose in all his bearing. There were a couple of cheerleaders talking to him beside him, but the guy didn’t pay them any attention while keeping his gaze fixed on Izuku, who fidgeted uneasily in his seat. The night air was cold, and most people were wearing coats, including him, and he really didn’t feel like taking off his sweater, but somehow he knew Haitani would make a scene like this as soon as he saw him.

His smile grew a little more tense, and he had to swallow before nodding in the direction of the black-haired guy and taking off his jersey.

Underneath, the UT team shirt with number 7 and Haitani’s name appeared for everyone to see. His boyfriend’s smile grew so wide that Izuku feared it wouldn’t fit on his angular face.

"Good job, babe," Haitani winked playfully and immediately turned his attention back to the blondes babbling around him. Izuku did his best to hide a shiver when a gust of cold wind wrapped around him, making him shrink in his seat. He looked at his phone screen. The game was about to start. Around him, he could hear the hustle of people getting settled and arriving late; on the field, players began to form up and cheerleaders took their positions.
Next to him, Ochako playfully nudged him on the shoulder and gave him a silly smile, pointing to her matching team shirt, except hers had her last name and the number 10, her brother's number.

"Twins," she said, laughing quietly, and he could only smile back as a response.

Izuku stared at his shoes in silence for several minutes.

"Is that for me?"

Shinsou’s bored and slightly dragged voice made him turn his face to find the guy who had picked up the bag of popcorn from the seat next to him and was lazily eating while standing.

Izuku silently thanked himself for getting rid of the popcorn so easily, and soon his gaze shifted from Shinsou to someone else, someone walking hurriedly with a slightly worried expression. Crimson eyes immediately met his, and it felt like time stopped for a fraction of a second.

"Over here, Hitoshi," Denki called from behind, pointing to the empty seat next to him, to which Shinsou nodded and immediately headed over, sitting down and bringing the popcorn bag with him. "How did it go with Aizawa? I thought..." Izuku didn’t hear the rest of the conversation because all his senses focused on a certain blonde now staring at him from the spot where Shinsou had been standing, a silent question in his eyes.

Izuku gaped for a moment until he managed to organize his words in his mind.

"Sit down, Kacchan," he said as an invitation while his eyes alternated between the empty seat and the taller guy’s face. However, they stayed locked in a silent gaze that lasted several seconds until another blonde head and a mocking voice pulled him out of his trance, making him feel embarrassed for having completely forgotten about the other girl.

"Well, sorry to interrupt, but I’m going to sit down," Himiko said with her eyebrows raised in a playful gesture, and she passed between the two to sit next to Ochako, greeting her with a kiss on the cheek, then doing the same with Mina and offering casual greetings to the others further away. Izuku didn’t know what to say, so he assumed it was better not to say anything after looking like an idiot.

Katsuki sat down, running a hand through his spiky hair, then turned to look toward the field, where the whistle blew to signal the start of the game.

"Just in time, huh?" Kacchan said, with what seemed to be a barely perceptible smile playing on his lips, trying to relieve some of the tension from the other guy's shoulders. He adjusted his jacket, and Izuku could feel his gaze lingering on him out of the corner of his eye, but he decided it didn’t bother him at all. He straightened up in his seat and leaned his back against the backrest, focusing on the game, his eyes immediately drifting to the player with the number 7 on his back, though he wasn’t really paying attention to the play.

"Just in time," he repeated in response, his hands playing with the edge of his shirt as he searched his mind for something else to say, but before he could speak, Kirishima spoke from beside Mina, a bit farther down the row, leaning forward to make himself seen over his girlfriend, Ochako, and Izuku.

"Hey, Bakubro," the redhead extended his arm to pass a hot dog to the blonde, who immediately took it, muttering a quiet thanks, then handed him a cold soda. "Here’s what you asked for."

The guy nodded and placed the food on his lap for a moment before reaching for his wallet from his jacket pocket. When Kirishima noticed the gesture, he hurried to stop him with a carefree motion.

"It’s nothing, man," Kirishima said and turned back to watch the game.

Katsuki frowned for a second but put his wallet away and then looked back at the green-haired guy, who had kept his attention on the game during the whole interaction between the two men.

Then, Izuku felt Katsuki lean slightly toward him, as if he were about to whisper something in his ear over all the noise that made it almost impossible to hear anything other than shouting, and Izuku nearly jumped when he heard the question.

"Aren’t you going to eat anything?"

He tried to hide the stiffness in his body with a laugh, unsure if the other guy even heard it over all the noise surrounding them, and turned to look at him, making sure to lean back slightly, or their noses would touch.
"I ate something before coming," he said simply, not wanting to explain that he had to maintain his 127-pound weight and that he’d already had a binge that week. "I’m not hungry."
Katsuki looked at him for a moment, as if deciding whether or not to believe him, but finally relented and gave him space, then took a big bite of his hot dog while watching the game with a thoughtful expression. Izuku took the opportunity to give him a long and careful look, checking him out for the first time since he’d arrived. He wore an orange cap (something Izuku had to admit made him look even more masculine), a plain t-shirt, and that black jacket that Izuku remembered he had bought at the mall before the Halloween party, loose pants, and boots. The sight made him smile because, although subtle, he could notice a change in him that made him look irresistibly handsome. Izuku turned his face away, trying to hide the goofy smile that formed on his lips, accompanied by a blush he knew had colored his cheeks. His surprise grew when he found himself face to face with Ochako’s Cheshire smile.

His smile immediately faded, and Ochako raised an eyebrow with sharp, knowing eyes.
Izuku expected her to say something, but her silence made him feel even worse. Then he spoke, and his voice came out in a higher pitch, feeling like a mouse caught in a trap.

"Good game, huh?" he said, stupidly.

She grabbed a couple of pieces of popcorn and, after eating, simply said, "Certainly." Then she turned to the front and didn’t pay him any more attention.

The poor guy decided to do the same since he had no better options. Or rather, none that didn’t involve him getting into potentially risky situations.

The rest of the game went by with cheers and shouts of joy, some of anger and others of frustration, depending on how the plays went and how the players acted on the field. There were several tense moments that had the whole crowd on the edge of their seats, and even Izuku, who didn’t consider himself a big sports fan, almost let out a few choice words in moments of stress when Haitani had been hit so hard he thought for a moment that he had been knocked out. Fortunately, the man was tough.

At some point in the night, Katsuki had noticed his team shirt and made a pleasant comment about it, despite it having Haitani’s name on it. Not that Izuku expected the blonde to get jealous or anything like that, but Katsuki didn’t make any other comments about it, nor about Haitani’s performance on the field. Throughout the game, they exchanged a few more comments about the plays and talked about other trivial things, and everything had been pleasant and enjoyable. The truth was, Izuku was having a happy, calm night and soon found himself wishing it wouldn’t end, but soon enough, the climax of the game arrived. His friends were euphoric, shouting cheers and singing along to what was their alma mater's anthem, all standing as they watched the ball fly from one hand to another at the last moment.
Then Haitani caught it in his hands and ran at full speed, the heavy helmet swinging like a stone on his shoulders as he kept looking back where the opposing team was following closely behind, grass flying up behind his heels with every skid against the wet earth, and then...

…the ball slamming to the ground with a furious thud followed by a communal, overwhelming cheer that rang throughout the stadium when the dark-haired guy scored the point that gave them the win.

A wave of collective excitement made them jump in place, bodies crashing against each other in clumsy, joyful hugs.

"UT takes the game tonight, ladies and gentlemen!" The commentator shouted through the multiple speakers around the stadium.

Izuku flinched when he felt cold drops fall on his head and back. Behind him, Denki and Shinsou had thrown the rest of their drinks in the air, and the contents splashed over everyone. In his row, Kirishima was pounding his chest like an orangutan that had just won a death match. Izuku let out a laugh from deep within his soul, which his friends responded to with loud and easy laughter. Next to him, Katsuki also laughed as he leaned back, a carefree expression on his face while holding his stomach. Below, the cheerleaders ran to hug the team members, who were also celebrating, while people started heading down from the stands to join the celebration on the field.

The music from the marching band soon flooded the venue, and Izuku found himself passing through the crowd, stumbling down the stairs, trying to reach his boyfriend, who at that moment was being lifted by his whole team in a victorious cheer.

There were too many people around him, between the team, the cheerleaders, and others who wanted to congratulate him for winning the first game of the season so cleanly, so Izuku found it difficult to reach him through the crowd.

“Haitani!” the poor guy shouted, his head barely rising above the sea of people swirling around him. For a moment, he looked back and saw his friends trying to follow him from behind, Mina waving for him to wait while Kirishima tried to clear a path for him. He spotted Kacchan a bit further back, walking without any trouble since he had the height to stand out over the others, and felt a bit of envy. If Haitani hadn't forbidden him from getting close, maybe he would have asked him for help. The thought crossed his mind as quickly as it vanished. He turned back to the front and kept trying to push forward without much success.

“Haitani!” he called again, this time watching as they dropped the guy to the ground and his teammates began showering him with rough hugs and fraternity-style shoves, along with words of encouragement. Gradually, more of his friends moved in to do the same. Izuku frowned as he saw the entire cheerleading team huddle around him, and he welcomed them into his arms happily. An inevitable spark of jealousy ignited within him. Everyone seemed to have already paraded up to his side, except for him. But Izuku was his boyfriend. He should've been the first to reach him, the first to congratulate him. Yet there was his boyfriend, hugging everyone without even bothering to check on or wait for him. “Haitani!”

However, what had been boiling in his stomach finally exploded when one of the cheerleaders approached and, after whispering something in his ear, suddenly started kissing him in front of everyone.

Izuku paled.

His body tensed immediately amidst the crowd, his eyes following the movement of the tangled mouths, and the heat of the people around him made him begin to sweat profusely. Applause erupted alongside cheers and shouts of support for the scene unfolding before his eyes. Soon, murmurs reached his ears.

“Wasn’t he dating that green guy from UA?” A girl’s voice, completely unhidden, reached him from his right.

“I thought so, but I don’t know, maybe he got tired of playing with dolls? Someone told me they had an open relationship— Oh.” Another feminine voice was speaking until it suddenly went silent. Izuku forced himself to look around to see what had made her stop, meeting the face of a girl contorted with pity. He wanted to laugh. She simply walked away in silence.

Izuku blinked. A deep shame settled in his chest as he felt tears start to build up in his eyes, signaling that everything was about to fall apart. He wiped his face with his hand, the anger evident in the gesture while in the background, he heard the male voice calling his name, but it all sounded muffled as if through a thick layer of fabric.

“Izuku!”

He had to get out of there.

“Hey, Izuku!”

Everyone was laughing at him.

Suddenly, the warm touch of a rough hand reached him from behind. Then a slight tug made him turn.

“Izuku?”

This was a different voice.

Although he could still hear the other voice calling, this one was gentle and clear, caressing his senses. Then, his face was lifted in a kind gesture that simultaneously asked for permission to do so.

“What’s wrong?” Katsuki asked, concern in his red eyes as he faced Izuku’s tear-filled olive gaze, doing his best to hold back the sobs shaking him while also braving the cold that made his skin prickle. He had left his sweater on the bench.

Izuku couldn’t gather his thoughts to respond, and he felt so embarrassed that the mere thought that Kacchan might pity him made him feel so much anger towards himself that the first thing he did was run.

He pulled himself free from his hands and, as best as he could, through the crowd, he let his steps guide him aimlessly, hoping no one would follow. Not even Kacchan. He wanted to go home and lock himself in the safety of his room where he could cry out his pain without losing what little dignity he had left in the process. But he had come in Ochako’s car, and he had to let them know he was going home alone, or they would worry. When he managed to make it to the parking lot and was no longer surrounded by people, a deep, long sigh escaped his chest, so heavy that even he was surprised to hear it. It sounded exhausted, drained even, as if he had been carrying it in his chest for months. He brought a hand to his throat and inevitably dug his nails into the skin, wanting to tear it out as he couldn’t do anything else to rid himself of the knot and despair overwhelming him. Uncontrolled sobs followed, and he knew it would be very difficult to control them from here on out.

He staggered and sobbed quietly behind a car he deemed far enough from the chaos and sat down, letting it all out, trying not to make too much noise to avoid attention but deeply worried because he didn’t feel like this would stop anytime soon. How would he get home? Would it be better to go to his mother’s? But how would he explain all this? And why was he having a panic attack in the first place? It was just Haitani being an idiot, nothing that hadn’t happened before.

But he felt so much shame.

He knew that some people knew they were in an open relationship now, but for Haitani to make it so blatantly public for everyone with such a degrading act like that, and then hearing what people thought of him, was another thing. Izuku had always been someone who cared deeply about what others thought or said about him, and it affected him harshly.

“Miserable” didn’t even begin to describe how he felt in that moment.

Especially since he had such deep and toxic feelings for that man that no matter how much he wanted to break up with him, it wasn’t that easy.

He knew he had a kind of unhealthy dependency that would destroy him if he let it, but if he stayed with him, that would also destroy him sooner or later. The question was, what the hell was he supposed to do and how?

He felt like he was in a dark room, unsure if he would ever get out.

The worst part was that he didn’t know who was the one not letting him leave. Was it Haitani, or was it himself?

Hasty footsteps against the asphalt startled him, and he curled up as he tried to stand up and run again, but gentle hands caught him and made him sit back down.

“It’s me, Izuku,” Katsuki’s raspy, low voice said, as if afraid to scare a wounded animal, and to his dismay, even though he didn’t want to admit it, his body shut off the fight-or-flight mode and relaxed against the metal of the car. He rested his head and looked up at him through swollen, tear-filled eyes.

Izuku silently hoped the older one wouldn’t ask anything.

It seemed he heard him through his thoughts, because he didn’t.

Izuku had to bite his lips into a thin line to prevent his sobs from becoming loud prayers, and his face contorted in pain as he watched the blonde take off his jacket and drape it over his shoulders, then gently cradled him with one arm and wiped the tears from one of his cheeks with his thumb.

Somehow, Izuku knew Katsuki understood.

That his heart was breaking into pieces.

Katsuki kissed him on the forehead, and in the next moment, he knelt in front of him. Izuku wondered what was happening, but soon figured it out when the other lifted him in his arms, stood up, and began walking toward what Izuku assumed was his car. He thought about protesting, but honestly, he was so tired and still couldn’t stop crying, so he silently let himself be carried.

The guy expertly placed him in the passenger seat, and Izuku couldn’t help but wonder how many times he had done this for someone else before. When he got into the driver’s seat, he brought the phone to his ear with determination.

“Himiko?” he said in a low, calm voice, starting the engine. Izuku curled up under his coat and discreetly admired his profile. Tears were still rolling down his cheeks, hidden by the darkness. “I have to go back to the dorms earlier, can you go back with Uraraka?”

Izuku felt a little bad for making the guy change his plans and leaving his sister out of it because of him. He told himself he would apologize later. Silence followed his words for a moment.

“Yeah. Be careful,” he added, and after that, hung up. Izuku felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, and although he didn’t feel like talking to anyone, he still glanced at it.

The bright screen blinked with a single name on it and the incoming call sign.

In the notification bar, there were several new messages from Mina.

He ignored the call and went straight for the messages.

PinkyPinky: where are you?

PinkyPinky: Haitani is going crazy

PinkyPinky: he swears he saw you leave with Bakugou and wants you to come back immediately

PinkyPinky: for some reason, he thinks we know where you are and don’t want to tell him???

PinkyPinky: boy I’m so done, we’re leaving

PinkyPinky: just let me know you’re okay

PinkyPinky: we’ll go for a ride, see you tomorrow

Izuku sighed, exhaustion evident on his face as he typed quickly.

You: I’m fine, see you tomorrow

The drive went on in silence, although Izuku could feel the words dancing on the tip of his tongue. He didn’t even know exactly what he wanted to say, but he was certain he wanted to hear the blonde’s voice again after hearing him say his name in the parking lot. It had triggered something inside of him that, although it didn’t stop his tears, had soothed something sensitive in him that made him feel better.

However, he didn’t. He settled back against the seat and drifted in his thoughts while silently humming the song playing on the stereo, shifting his gaze between the streets of the darkening Tokyo and Kacchan’s hands on the steering wheel. There was something about them that caught his attention, but he pushed the thought to the back of his mind for now.

By the time they arrived, he had fortunately managed to stop crying.

However, he still felt that strange pressure in his chest, making it hard to breathe. And when they entered the dorm and the dim light of the living room hit him, stinging his sensitive pupils from all the crying, he stumbled backward, and Katsuki caught him once more in his arms. Izuku felt that same urgent feeling at the base of his stomach.

An urgency that caught him off guard.

Sharp, eager eyes looked back at him when he turned to face him.

“Kacchan,” Izuku said between shaky breaths as he rested his hands against the taller boy's chest. He told himself it was now or never, “Would you sleep with me tonight?”

Katsuki looked at him in surprise, but Izuku took some comfort in realizing that for the first time, the boy didn’t seem scared to touch him. He placed his strong, calloused hands on Izuku’s waist, holding him like he was afraid he might fall, and that almost made Izuku smile.

“S-sure,” the boy said, and Izuku could see the adorable blush on his cheeks despite the darkness. Then he took Katuski’s hand and led him to the elevator. Their hearts were pounding intensely against their ribs as Izuku opened the door to his room, guiding the blonde through the dimness until their knees bumped against the edge of the bed.

Moonlight streamed through the open curtains, so they were able to look each other in the eyes once more as Izuku thought about how to climb into bed without making the simple action seem suggestive, and Katsuki tried to regulate his breathing.

Izuku got onto the bed on his knees, moving carefully across the mattress, pulling the other boy along with him. When Katsuki’s arm stretched out, he had no choice but to mimic Izuku and climb on as well, just as Izuku let himself fall onto his back on the bed, pulling the blonde forcefully on top of him. Katsuki let out a surprised sound when his chest collided with Izuku’s, and their faces were so close that Izuku could hardly breathe.

Suddenly, it was like walking on a tightrope.

For Izuku, it felt more like walking barefoot on fire.

It was as if the anger and embarrassment he had felt only minutes ago had faded, leaving behind a thick, heavy mist of something he couldn’t describe.

Something that made him feel thirsty and alive.

Desperate.

But at the same time, he was still numb.

It was compact inside his stomach, like it was waiting for something or someone to ignite it.

Sometimes, he thought there was so much about himself that he didn’t know.

When their lips met once more, he felt that mist spread around him, embracing him.

Blurring him, lifting him, high, high, higher.

He buried his hands in silky, blonde hair just as the boy’s hands found their way back to his waist and anchored themselves there for the rest of the night.

Chapter Text

Sweat ran down his back like rivers disappearing under the fabric of his shirt with every punch he threw—wild pulses reaching for something he couldn’t see, but somehow knew was within his grasp.

Something throbbed in the back of his head, but he couldn’t quite figure out what was actually bothering him.

The punching bag swung mockingly in front of his eyes, and all he could do was pray that the bell would magically ring within the next five minutes.

The past few weeks had been nothing short of complete torture, especially now that finals had officially started and his study hours had doubled. On top of that, Mirko and Toshinori had been kicking his ass with training routines three times more intense than usual—forcing them to spar endlessly until they were basically walking bruises.

To make things worse, he’d been sleeping terribly.

The nightmares had started creeping back more often, more vividly, worming their way under his skin in a way they hadn’t in years—and it was seriously starting to worry him. His mood had gotten sharper than ever, and he couldn’t tell if it was from exhaustion or something deeper—memories resurfacing, maybe. He’d been walking on eggshells with himself lately, and for that reason alone, he’d been avoiding too much contact with others.

Except for Izuku.

Though, of course, things with Izuku were also seriously stressing him out.

Turned out Kirishima had been absolutely right when he warned him to stay on his side of the line. But had he listened? No. Because he was an idiot. A stubborn, emotionally constipated idiot.

After that weird night during the UT game when they’d slept together (and they’d actually only slept, despite making out for what felt like endless hours), he’d made the dumbass suggestion that Izuku should break up with Haitani—and the guy had very kindly told him to mind his own business.

Well, maybe he hadn’t said it like that, but that’s how it felt to Katsuki.

“I’m not trying to interfere, Izuku, but… if it hurts you that much… why not end it?” he had asked that night, tangled up in arms and legs and body heat that had made him loose-lipped.

Izuku had looked at him seriously, brushing his hair out of his face before giving him a soft smile—but there was something rigid, unbending in that smile.

“…I don’t think it’s your place to comment on that, Kacchan. I’m sorry.”

Okay. He’d crossed a line. Katsuki got it.

The truth was, he had no real idea what Izuku’s relationship with Haitani was actually like—how long they’d been together or anything beyond the fact that it was open. All he knew was what he saw from the outside, and from there, it looked like Izuku wasn’t exactly happy. But he could’ve been wrong. Izuku had proven to be full of surprises.

He threw a punch that—either because it was that strong or the mount holding the bag was that old—sent the bag flying off and tumbling across the floor until it slammed against the wall.

Seven Nation Army echoed in his ears as he stared at the thing lying on the ground.

He looked at his fist, then became aware of how labored his breathing was, realizing suddenly that he was, in fact, feeling a burst of anger that seemed to have come out of nowhere and was now rushing through him from head to toe.

He shook his head, trying to clear it, and tugged at his hair in growing frustration. He could feel eyes on his back, curious stares, but he didn’t care. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he grabbed it a bit too roughly—nearly dropping it. He barely caught it in time and accidentally bumped himself in the head. What the hell was wrong with him?

A message popped up from the last person he expected. He let out a huff. Instinctively, he opened it—and cursed himself, because by the time he realized, it was already too late to pretend he hadn’t seen it.

Uri Takahashi: Hey, Bakugou!

The boy started typing.

You: Hey, Uri

Was that too dry? Should he have added an emoji? What did it matter, anyway? It wasn’t like he wanted to impress her. He just didn’t want to be rude. She’d been messaging him for days with pretty clear intentions, and so far, he hadn’t given her anything. Kirishima had been teasing him about going out with her, but he hadn’t really thought about it. He wasn’t interested—but part of him did find her a little attractive. Izuku was still seeing other people and had made it clear he wasn’t leaving Haitani. And that was fine. Katsuki didn’t want anything serious with him.

But maybe part of starting to live his life meant opening himself up to other people—and not just getting stuck doing whatever Izuku expected him to do.

He frowned.

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to…

The girl replied immediately.

Uri Takahashi: Are you free this Saturday?

“Uh, I think we are. Yeah, definitely free.”

Kirishima’s cheerful, teasing voice caught him off guard from behind, making him jump and stumble forward. He turned around, glaring, then pinched the bridge of his nose in exhaustion.

“Stop spying on me, damn it,” the blond muttered.

Kirishima gave him a goofy smile. “Come on, it’s for your own good. Are you gonna go out with her?”

Katsuki crossed his arms. “I don’t know. Should I?”

Kirishima nodded enthusiastically. “Absolutely. Dude, she’s the one making the first move here—don’t leave her hanging.”

The other boy sighed.

“Fine.”

“Don’t screw it up,” Kirishima said before dashing off in the opposite direction.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?!”

As he wiped his face and heard the bell ring, he grabbed his bag and left the gym without waiting for anyone. He was especially irritable that day and not in the mood to talk to anyone. Luckily, he left fast enough to avoid running into anyone.

On the way back to the dorms, he texted Uri back.

You: Free

She replied instantly.

Uri Takahashi: Awesome! I was wondering if you’d like to go to the movies?

Katsuki fumbled with the dorm door. A few classmates greeted him inside. Izuku wasn’t among them. He waved back with a quick lift of his hand and got in the elevator while typing.

You: Sure. What movie do you want to see?

Uri Takahashi: A horror one!

You: Brave girl, huh?

Uri Takahashi: 🤣🤣🤣

Uri Takahashi: A little adrenaline never hurt anyone

You: You’re right

You: What time works for you?

Uri Takahashi: Six?

You: Sounds good. Send me your address, I’ll pick you up

Uri Takahashi: Great! See you Saturday!

You: See you

When he got to his room, he tossed his bag onto the bed and kicked off his shoes in one smooth motion. Then he ditched his blazer and collapsed onto the mattress, eyes fixed on the ceiling, letting his mind drift far away. His phone connected to Alexa automatically, and Makes Me Wonder by Maroon 5 started playing softly through the room. The boy let out a groan so pained it sounded like a wounded animal.

Whatever he’d been feeling lately had him caught between a kind of lethargy and an overdose of adrenaline, like he was constantly flipping from one person to another—and it was starting to confuse not just himself but everyone around him, no matter how hard he tried to keep it hidden.

It was getting pretty damn clear that he was starting to have feelings for Izuku—feelings that made him uncomfortable and pushed him blindly toward him.

With Izuku, everything was confusing and hazy. Katsuki didn’t know if the guy did it on purpose, but his boundaries were blurred, and more often than not, Katsuki found himself lost in the fog of Izuku’s mixed signals. He kept coming to him, heartbroken, unable to stand what Haitani was doing to him—but it never took more than two days for him to crawl right back into the other man’s arms. Katsuki made a point not to ask questions anymore—it was clear he had no right to—but he couldn’t stop the heaviness in his chest when he saw him crying in the dark of his room, searching for comfort.

And truthfully, he couldn’t deny that he’d been quietly harboring a growing resentment toward the man, which unsettled him more than anything.

It wasn’t like he and Izuku were together.

In some ways, they weren’t anything at all.

They kissed, spent time together—sometimes way too much—but that was it. Katsuki couldn’t afford to let it get out of hand.

And besides, Izuku was still going out with other people.

That stung more than he cared to admit.

Every day it got harder to stay discreet and keep things hidden from their classmates.
Katsuki wasn’t sure if maybe Uraraka and Mina knew and were just keeping quiet at Izuku’s request, but the teasing and suggestive comments from Kirishima and the others had been growing more frequent lately—and so had the caution and precision with which he and Izuku moved in public.

They were getting less and less careful each day, and that worried him (even if he couldn’t quite figure out why, exactly), though Izuku didn’t seem to care one way or the other.

Still, it had never even occurred to him to ask Izuku why no one was supposed to know about their pseudo-arrangement.

His feelings were a whole different matter. Recently, he’d found himself too wrapped up in thoughts that had set off every red flag in his head and left him trembling from head to toe, because he had no idea what any of those thoughts even meant. For that, he’d had to turn to Himiko.

Suddenly, everything in his mind was green.

It was as if his world had been painted emerald, and taken the shape of soft curls and curvy hips.
And when that mouth found him in the darkness of his room—or Izuku’s—it was like a black hole swallowing him whole into the infinite. There was no gravity, no anchor, nothing to hold onto except the solid weight of Izuku’s body against his and the panic that he might slip right through his fingers.

And then Katsuki would wonder if this was what he was supposed to feel.

Or if it was right or wrong.

To him, it felt new and all-consuming. Like jumping straight into an erupting volcano.

The truth was, at this moment, the only thing he really knew was that he didn’t want to feel it anymore.

It made him uncomfortable, weak, and exposed.

That, on top of everything else going on, wasn’t a great combination.

Izuku didn’t seem to grasp the weight of it. Probably because Izuku simply didn’t feel any of this. He was just too hung up on Haitani to care about what might or might not be tormenting Katsuki.

The blond grabbed his pillow and shoved it over his face. He took a deep breath and let out a scream that drained every ounce of energy he had left for the day.

Besides, there were a couple other things that had been eating at him lately.

For example, how quickly things had escalated with Izuku.

So quickly, in fact, that just that morning he’d woken up with a hickey at the base of his neck from their heated make-out session the night before.

That and a painful erection in his pants.

Katsuki wasn’t the kind of guy who jerked off just for fun. Needless to say, he wasn’t exactly comfortable with his body—after what had happened during his childhood and having to survive that kind of trauma on his own—but he’d learned over time and through growing up that there were certain things the human body just needed, and that denying them out of sheer willpower didn’t always work. So when they explained in school what masturbation was for, he decided he’d do it strictly for hormonal release, and that had worked pretty well for him—until now.

He’d never thought about sex or touched himself for any reason other than getting rid of that annoying pressure in his pants that showed up out of nowhere sometimes.

Until now.

He couldn’t help the strange, tingling feeling that sparked in his brain and went straight to his groin every time Izuku climbed onto his lap and kissed him like he was trying to steal the air from his lungs.

At first, he was mortified and tried to push the boy away, but Izuku didn’t seem to care. He didn’t look particularly amused, but he didn’t seem bothered either. So Katsuki, too far gone in the haze of something he didn’t know how to name, let himself get swept away until he just learned to ignore the discomfort and focus all his attention on the boy in his arms.

But each day, it got harder.

Izuku made it harder.

He complicated everything with the way he pressed his ass back against Katsuki’s crotch, and then licked into his mouth like he’d been born to do it. He made everything worse with those soft, sweet sounds he let out near his ear and the way he tugged on his hair like he owned him.

Katsuki looked down at his crotch. The fabric of his pants was tight and lifted, signaling that, yeah, just thinking about it had made his little friend rise with renewed interest.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he groaned, flopping back down on the bed with a sigh. He quickly unbuttoned his pants and pushed them down a bit until his erection sprang free, still trapped by the elastic of his boxers, and the pressure eased, sparing him that annoying prick of discomfort that came with keeping his pants on.

He tried to focus his mind on random thoughts, anything to keep Izuku out of it, but his willpower faltered every time he held on too long to anything that wasn’t him.

What if…?

It wasn’t wrong, was it? Wasn’t it normal?

His palm slowly slid down his stomach as he closed his eyes and let his imagination drift into places he’d never let it go before.

When his calloused hand reached the waistband of his underwear, he hesitated, almost embarrassed, before pulling it aside. His movements were unsure, but he didn’t let it stop him.

Honestly, he had so much stress built up that maybe this would help him channel some of it. Or at least, that’s what he told himself as he wrapped his hand around his length and a hiss slipped from his lips.

A fast, intrusive thought hit his brain like it had been launched into the bay of his consciousness at random.

What would Izuku’s hands feel like on his skin?

Not just in his hair—he’d felt them there often. Or on his face, where they touched him so gently. He liked when they held hands. But what would it feel like to have him skin to skin against his chest? His stomach? What would it be like to feel those fingers wrapped around him down there?

His breath hitched at the thought, his fingers tightening around his cock, and it was like stars exploded behind his eyelids.

He gasped.

And as his hand pumped shakily up and down, more questions surged into his mind like hot gusts of wind slamming into his flushed face.

What would Izuku feel like?

Would the skin on his back be as soft as his cheeks? Would the hair between his legs be green, too, like his eyelashes? How far did his freckles go?

What would he taste like?

He gripped the sheet tightly and a shiver rocked through him, his whole body tensing on the mattress as he held his breath between clenched teeth.

Izuku, Izuku, Izuku.

It was like a thought that stunned him, consumed him, and terrified him all at once because Katsuki didn’t know if he’d ever be able to get him out of his head.

And right now, that didn’t seem like it was going to happen anytime soon.

His fist closed around his tip as a jolt of pleasure surged through him from head to toe and then the orgasm crashed through him like a runaway train.

Right as someone knocked on his door and an angelic voice called from the other side.

“Kacchan!”

“Shit,” the blond groaned, immediately grabbing a box of tissues from his nightstand to wipe his hands. He stood up, eyes widening in horror at the mess between his legs. “C-Coming! J-Just a sec, Izuku!”

Then, hopping and wobbling on one foot and then the other, he pulled off his pants as he ran to the bathroom, yanked down his boxers, and wiped himself off with toilet paper, hissing at the roughness against his still-sensitive skin. He grabbed a new pair of boxers and slipped them on at lightning speed, pulled on a clean pair of pants, and after one last scan of the room to make sure nothing suspicious was lying around, he ran to open the door while unbuttoning his uniform shirt to switch it out.

On the other side, Izuku was smiling wide and bright, his backpack slung over his shoulders, loose shorts over white tights, a knitted sweater, and blue snow boots.

But the moment he saw him, the boy’s smile faltered.

“Is this a bad time?” the green-haired boy asked, expression slightly tilted with concern.

Katsuki frowned, quickly glancing at himself in panic, wondering if he’d left any clue behind of what he’d been doing a moment ago—but nothing seemed out of place. If anything, his breathing was still a bit uneven and his face still felt warm, so he quickly said, “N-No, I just got back from training.”

Then the boy smiled again, carefree. “Oh, I see.”

The blond turned around to avoid facing him, all the shame of having jerked off thinking about this exact person crashing down on him as he headed to the closet and pulled off his shirt, looking for another to put on. Izuku stepped into the room behind him with hesitant footsteps but said nothing. Katsuki wondered if it would be too rude to ask him what brought him here.

He didn’t have to—after a tense moment of silence, the boy found his voice again.

“Uhm,” he began as Katsuki pulled on a new shirt and looked back at him. Izuku wrung his hands but never stopped smiling. “I was wondering if you could give me a ride to class?”
Katsuki blinked in surprise. Before he could answer, the green-haired boy continued.
“It’s just that it’s snowing, and the subway’s a mess—”

“No problem,” he cut in before the other could finish. He glanced at his wristwatch and grabbed his keys from the desk. “We gotta leave now, right? There’s only 20 minutes left.”
Izuku looked a bit stunned but quickly nodded, curls bouncing on his head as Katsuki pulled on his coat and hat, following him toward the door

***

When he parked outside the building, Izuku got out with some difficulty due to the layer of snow covering the sidewalks. That day, his backpack saw heavier than usual, and he was also carrying a hanger with a dark overcoat that revealed nothing.

The boy crouched to look at him through the window and spoke, his breath forming a visible halo in the air.

"You're not staying?" he asked, noticing that the blond hadn't gotten out of the car or turned off the engine.

Katsuki leaned over to see him better through the window and gave him a tired look, shaking his head.

"Sorry, ‘Zuku. I want to go visit my parents," he said, waving goodbye. "But I can come pick you up later."

Izuku's face took on a lovely pink hue, and he hesitated before replying.

"That would be very kind of you," he said, a small smile playing on his lips. "If you don't mind, Kacchan."

"Not at all." He added, then began to pull the car back onto the street. "See you later."

Even though it was only four in the afternoon, traffic was just beginning to build up in the downtown avenues, so it didn’t take him long to get from where he was to the suburbs where his parents lived. On the way, he had sent his father a message to let him know he’d be stopping by and to make sure someone would be home—he feared they might still be at the office—but he quickly received confirmation that both of them had already returned from work, as they had things to take care of at home.

As he entered the neighborhood, he maneuvered carefully to avoid the large blocks of snow covering the streets, at times getting stuck for a few minutes and cursing as he wrestled with the steering wheel. It took him at least fifteen minutes to reach the garage and park, grateful that his parents had apparently just cleared the snow from the driveway.

"I'm here," he announced as he stepped into the house, the sharp jingle of his keys against the wooden door and the click of the lock echoing in the entryway. Almost immediately, the smell of freshly cooked food reached him from the kitchen, drifting through the living room and all the way to the front door.

His mother's voice called out from a distance. "In here, brats!"

A smile instantly formed on his lips.

When he reached the kitchen, he found his mother setting the table for four and his father doing something with his back to him at the stove.

"Look at you, brat—you look different," his mother said with a warm smile as she looked at him from across the table, a glass of wine in hand. Her ruby eyes, just like his, examined him for a moment before wandering around the room with curiosity. "Where’s your sister?"

Katsuki scratched the back of his neck and shrugged. "She was busy," he lied. "But I’ll bring her next week."

His mother narrowed her eyes at him, and his father turned around, drying his hands on his apron. "You better. Ever since you two moved out, you haven’t come to visit us even once, ungrateful kids."

"That’s not—" Katsuki said, rolling his eyes. "That school is more demanding than you think."

She kept giving him that suspicious look and took a sip from her glass. Then she started clearing the plate and placemat she had set out for Himiko.

"Don’t worry, son," his father said, approaching them with a steaming skillet in hand, beginning to serve their plates. "Your mother’s just in a mood because she misses you both too much."

"That’s not true!" the blonde shouted from the back of the kitchen, wine bottle in hand, fridge door open. Then she came over and began filling all three of their glasses. "I’ve never lived more peacefully than now."

The boy let out a low laugh. "I bet you have, mom."

She flicked him behind the ear.

Once they finally sat down to eat, the conversation flowed naturally and calmly. His parents talked about how work was going and how, even though several months had passed since their move, there were still things to fix around the house. Their workload had kept them from focusing on anything unrelated to the office. Though Manami, their assistant, made life much easier (according to his mother), handling import and export orders while also supervising the new seasonal designs with winter approaching was twice the work. On top of that, his father had to take care of all the administrative and financial matters, and they were currently hiring new staff—screening résumés and conducting interviews themselves.

Katsuki listened attentively. He couldn’t even imagine stepping into his parents’ shoes, managing both a household and a multinational company.

He felt like he was barely staying afloat with the weight of his own responsibilities.

"How’s school going, Katsuki?" his father asked, eyeing him with mild curiosity as he cut a piece of meat on his plate.

He swallowed and looked at the glass of wine beside him, untouched. He had been avoiding it since they started dinner, unsure if his mother had placed it there as a kind of test or not.

"Good," he said, clearing his throat. "Finals started this week."

"That’s excellent," his father said, sipping from his own glass. "How’s the prep for college? I heard the applications are opening soon. Do you have your paperwork ready?"

The boy nodded. "I’ve been studying extra hours for the entrance exam and yeah… everything’s in order."

"How’s the martial arts club?" This time it was his mother who asked.

The blond licked the sauce from his lips before replying. "It’s good. I think regionals are in February." Then, a little hesitant, he added, "I’d like to keep doing it… after I get into college."

His mother hummed approvingly. "I think that’s great. I’ve always believed judo and all that is good for you. Helps you release stress and manage your emotions."

Katsuki stiffened slightly at that last part, but rolled his shoulder to pretend it was just a cramp. He didn’t respond.

His father, on the other hand, gave him a thoughtful look.

"How are you doing, Katsuki?" the man asked with kindness and gentleness in his voice, and the boy was surprised by how the weight on his shoulders seemed to instantly lift. For a moment, he wanted to ask his father to be more specific, but deep down he already knew what he meant. So he stayed silent for several minutes as he continued eating, thinking of an answer that wouldn’t raise any red flags.

"I’m… okay," he chose to half-lie. "Just… tired."

His father nodded.

"I can tell," his mother said from his left, swirling the wine in her glass in slow circles. "I told you, you look different, and I stand by it." The boy swallowed. She went on. "Different… I don’t know."

"I feel different," he whispered timidly, dabbing his lips with the cloth napkin. "Not in a good or bad way. Just… different."

Across from him, his father made a sound of agreement and sipped from his glass.

"I see. That’s okay, son. After all, you’re transitioning into adult life." Then he patted him on the shoulder, a reassuring gesture. "For now, just focus on passing your entrance exam—we’ll take care of the rest. The apartment and all that."

The blond nodded. The truth was, he hadn’t even thought about the fact that he’d have to move again.

"I know." He nodded in his direction, a grateful expression on his face. "Thanks, Dad."

"No ‘Thanks, Mom’?" his mother teased from his right, raising a brow. Katsuki immediately turned to her with a curved smile and sighed.

"Thanks, Mom."

She just chuckled softly, enjoying his embarrassment, and then pushed his glass of wine—already starting to warm on the table—toward him. "Drink, brat. I poured it for you to drink. You’re an adult now."

Katsuki looked her in the eyes to see if he could spot any trace of sarcasm or deceit, but only confidence and resolve stared back at him. He took the glass and drank deeply, delighting in the sweet flavor of the wine as it caressed his tongue and cooled his throat. Though he didn’t drink often and knew little about alcohol, he had always liked wine. He drank it on Christmas and other special occasions.

His mother smiled warmly and pushed his hair back in a gesture that almost froze him, because it was neither typical nor frequent of her, but it made his heart flutter with something that felt a lot like longing.

"You’re a good boy, Katsuki," she said with that same smile, though her face turned serious in the next moment—his father’s did too. "Remember that no matter what happens, you have to tell us. I’m not talking about whether you have a new girlfriend or stuff like that. You know what I mean." Then she gently pinched his cheek. "We’re your family, and we love you above all else. Okay?"

He nodded again, feeling a bit off by the little speech, but deep down understanding completely where their words were coming from and where they were going. He lowered his gaze for a moment, then looked up at both of them with all the conviction he could muster.
"Okay—I’m okay. I promise."

The rest of dinner passed with lighter conversation on less heavy topics, for which Katsuki was secretly grateful. He wasn’t ready to carry more tension on his shoulders that night. The three of them finished the bottle of wine and moved to the couch, where they kept chatting and watched a bit of TV until his mother brought her laptop to work quietly while he and his father watched the local news. For Katsuki, it suddenly felt as if those months at UA hadn’t even happened. He felt back home, in Musutafu, like he’d come home from school or judo practice to spend a peaceful evening with his family. The only thing missing was Himiko’s presence, which was undeniably felt and longed for in the house. In that moment, peace settled into his heart and he felt all the stress and anger that had been building up over the past few weeks sink into the back of his mind, quieting down and leaving him alone for a while. There was a sense of stillness and calm not just in the house and around him, but also in his body and mind.

He wished he could stay there a little longer.

However, the hours soon slipped by and his phone buzzed in his pocket.

Izuku’s name lit up on the screen, and the boy jumped slightly, suddenly aware that it was past ten at night and already dark outside. He stood up as he brought the phone to his ear and walked toward the door to grab his coat and put it on, signaling to his parents that it was time for him to go.

"Izuku? Sorry, Izuku—I’m heading out now—"

On the other end, he heard the wind howling against the phone's mic.

"Don’t worry—Kacchan, it’s not necessary," Izuku’s faint voice replied. "Haitani is coming to pick me up."

With that single phrase, Katsuki froze in place, his coat hanging from one arm and the keys dangling from his hand.

"Haitani?" he repeated stupidly, like an echo—more to himself than to the other. Izuku made a faint sound of confirmation in his throat and then continued.

"Yeah—it’s just that we’re having dinner with his family and—yeah." The boy finished, cutting himself off at the last second as if he didn’t want to add more. Katsuki swallowed and slipped the keys into his pocket, slightly stunned by the new information. Haitani’s family knew Izuku.

Suddenly, the thought struck him as incredibly stupid. Of course they had to know him. They were a couple. Probably had been for years. No matter what kind of arrangement they had between them, if people knew about their relationship, then his family had to know too. He frowned. There was no reason for him to be overanalyzing all of this.

His parents were watching him from the couch with puzzled expressions.

He switched the phone to his other ear and held back the frustrated sound stuck in his throat—anything more would’ve been childish and inappropriate.

“Don’t worry,” he said, though he couldn’t quite hide the tightness in his voice no matter how hard he tried. “See you tomorrow.”

“Ka—” But he had already hung up.

He slipped the phone slowly into his pocket and finished putting on his coat under his parents’ watchful eyes. His father had even turned down the volume on the TV, and his mother had stopped typing on her laptop to pay attention to his brief phone call. Their sudden interest was starting to put him in a sour mood.

“I have to go,” he said, crouching to put on his shoes by the door. “It’s late.”

“I agree.” His mother nodded with a questioning look. She clearly wasn’t convinced by his excuse, but he breathed a little easier when she didn’t push the issue. “Remember to bring your sister next time.”

He nodded and leaned in to kiss her cheek, then did the same with his father before heading toward the door. “Thanks for dinner. See you.” And with that, he stepped out into the cold suburban Tokyo night once again.

Inside, the car was cold too. It had taken him a while to dig it out from the pile of snow that had formed around it during the afternoon and part of the night, but with a bit of skill, he’d managed to get it out and back onto the city’s busy streets. His mind wandered, bouncing from one thought to the next as he drove at the speed limit, a little too lost in a tangled web of thoughts that distracted him just enough to nearly run a red light once or twice.

He longed for his bed with an almost heartbreaking desperation.

***

“You look happy.” The comment might have passed as nothing more than a casual, almost friendly observation to anyone overhearing the conversation.

But not to him.

He caught the mockery, the venom, and the jealousy laced into every word spoken from those thin, chapped lips.

Izuku shifted uncomfortably, took a sip from his mug of hot chocolate, and forced a smile that didn’t reach his eyes as he leaned slightly toward his boyfriend to whisper in his ear.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he replied, summoning all the composure he could and taking advantage of the noisy room. Haitani turned to look at him. His hair was a mess, and his eyes had a strange glint to them; Izuku couldn’t help but think he looked ridiculously handsome, with his atelier pants and long coat perfectly matching his cashmere scarf.

Even after everything, he could still have thoughts like that, huh? He blushed.

A slow, predatory smile formed on Haitani’s lips.

“I don’t know, Izuku,” the man whispered next to his ear, his heavy, possessive hand on the boy’s thigh asserting ownership for all to see. “You didn’t exactly look thrilled when I picked you up earlier.”

The green-haired boy placed his hand over his boyfriend’s on his thigh, gently caressing his knuckles with his thumb to ease the tension. He lowered his gaze, trying to ignore the conversations buzzing around them. They were in Haitani’s house, having just finished a family dinner with a bunch of visiting relatives, and were now in the lavish living room having dessert amid light conversation and gossip.

He, however, had stayed mostly silent, more of an accessory to Haitani’s arm than anything else.

Truth was, he’d been a little disheartened when the man had shown up at the studio building unannounced, telling him he was taking him along without even asking his opinion. Since the game day, they hadn’t talked much, and Haitani had been giving him the cold shoulder, treating him with passive-aggressive disdain as punishment for leaving and “making a fool out of him”—though, to Izuku, it had felt more like the other way around.

“Izuku, you’ve barely said a word all evening,” his mother-in-law’s syrupy sweet voice called from the opposite sofa, where she sat holding a tiny porcelain cup between her fingers. She wore a muted-colored dress that screamed money and status, and she smiled at him with those overly white veneers that made his skin crawl. Beside her was his boyfriend’s stepfather, engaged in a serious conversation with another man on the couch. But suddenly, the man abandoned his chat to focus on him. Just great.

“He’s right, Izuku. Something wrong?” Charlie asked, his American accent grating to Izuku’s ears. Haitani tightened his grip on Izuku’s leg as if to remind him he was expected to respond, so he lifted his head with the kindest smile he could manage and brushed some hair out of his face as he let out a laugh—one of those fake ones he’d learned from Haitani for situations just like this.

“Cat got your tongue?” his sister-in-law chimed in from the armrest, her snake-like eyes perfectly framed with sharp eyeliner, staring him down like she always did—breaking him into pieces with a look. She was blunt and never hid her dislike for him, but Izuku didn’t take it personally. Nana was cruel to everyone. He only pushed back when he had the energy, which wasn’t the case tonight. Her honey-colored hair fell in ribbons down her back, and her dress made her look like a princess. Sometimes, Izuku felt jealous of her. So effortlessly beautiful… and thin.

“I’m just a little tired,” he replied, snuggling adorably into his boyfriend’s arm and resting his head on his shoulder with a fake air of ease. “School’s been hectic lately, and with the recital and college prep, things have gotten a bit intense.” He added the last part with that same sweet smile, glancing from his in-laws to the girl who was now pretending to be distracted by something on her phone.

Then his mother-in-law gasped and brought a hand to her chest, suddenly excited. “Oh, sweetheart, that’s right—are you already prepping for college? That’s wonderful!” She turned to her husband and placed a hand on his arm. “Darling, maybe you can help guide him—well, if he needs it. Have you chosen your major yet, Izuku? I assume you’ll be going to UT?”

Izuku stiffened in his seat. He cleared his throat to get rid of the lump in it, but before he could respond, Charlie cut in.

There was a cautious look in his pale blue, foreign eyes, like he was trying to size him up.

“That’d be a good idea,” he said, sipping his whisky. “If you want, Izuku. Unless you already picked your major.”

Izuku shifted uncomfortably and sensed Haitani stiffen beside him as well, but he managed to speak.
“Actually, I… I already have something I’d like to study…” a soft laugh escaped him as he scratched his freckled cheek.

Nana’s eyes drifted away from her phone to stare at him again, a wicked glint sparking in them. She leaned forward, lip curled in a sharp smirk.

“Oh, yeah?” she said in a low, threatening voice.

“And what would that be? Come on, Izuku, tell us!” his mother-in-law added cheerfully. Mr. Charlie just stared, waiting.

Izuku thought it over for a second before deciding to speak.

“Dance,” he said simply, not daring to elaborate on what kind of dance.

He immediately felt the tension settle over all of them in the room despite the background chatter. The sudden silence was deafening, and he had to pull away from Haitani just to run a nervous hand through his hair.

Why was he even this nervous? It wasn’t like these people’s opinions should matter. They didn’t have enough weight to make him change his mind. He could stand by his decisions. He was Haitani’s boyfriend, not his doll. Nobody—

Nana’s sharp, cruel laughter cut through the background noise like an ice pick to the brain. “Dance, huh?” she barked between cackles, clutching her stomach, and even with that manic grin, she still looked like a damn supermodel. “You really think you’re going to go far with that?”

Izuku felt his face heat up, his mouth twisting in discomfort. His mother-in-law stepped in, her smile gone, replaced by a look of pity and disappointment.

Izuku felt tears sting his eyes so fast he just wanted to get up and run.

“Oh, sweetheart, are you sure about that? Dance isn’t a real career—how will you make a living? Are you even any good?”

The green-haired boy took a deep breath and avoided everyone’s eyes.

“I think I am,” he said, with as much dignity as he could muster. “My teachers believe in me.”

“There’s nothing like getting a real degree. One that can actually get you a job,” his stepfather added, speaking in a disinterested tone, barely acknowledging Izuku as more than a stranger. “Young people these days and their dreams… what nonsense.”

That was enough for Izuku.

He nodded as if in agreement and quietly stood, careful to mask how insulted he felt in every movement.

“You’ll have to excuse me, but I’m really tired and I have to be back at school early tomorrow.” He said with a smile, as his eyes slowly scanned across all of them. Haitani looked up at him, and although Izuku silently begged for the man not to stand up, his heart started racing when he did exactly that.

“We’re going to bed now, Mom.” The black-haired man said, placing a hand on Izuku’s lower back and slowly guiding him toward the hallway that led to the stairs. “Good night.”

Izuku let himself be led in silence along those long walls to the room he knew all too well.

When Haitani shut the door, he slammed it.

“You didn’t have to act like that.”

“I don’t know what you’re—” Izuku had barely taken a few steps into the room when his boyfriend grabbed him by the forearm and spun him around to force him to look at him. There was something blazing in his eyes. He was angry.

“I brought you here so we could stay at dinner until the end, not for you to get up and leave just because you threw a tantrum.”

“I didn’t— Haitani, stop.”

“You know,” the black-haired man let go of him and started pacing in circles around the room. The poor boy stayed in place, just watching him like a caged animal. “From the beginning, I knew you didn’t want to be here.”

“What are you talking about?” Izuku took a step back, caught off guard by the other’s words but also starting to understand where the conversation was headed, and not wanting it to continue.

“You haven’t even called me in three days,” Haitani spat, taking the opportunity, stopping to look him in the eyes with something Izuku recognized as raw pain that left him stunned. He had never seen Haitani hurt because of him. “I had to show up unannounced just to get you to look at me because all you say is that you’re busy.”

Izuku froze, mouth opening and closing, unable to string the right words together in his mind to respond. His boyfriend, seeing him hesitate, laughed.

“I know you’re still seeing that loser,” the man ran a hand through his hair in clear exasperation, then took a sharp, furious breath through his nose, and to Izuku he looked like an enraged bull. “What did I tell you about that?”

The boy wrung his knuckles with growing anxiety, still unable to find the words to defend himself, which only made him look guiltier. Haitani kept going.

“Are you going to leave me for him?” he asked in a low voice, stepping slowly toward him. Izuku started to back away, trying to put some distance between them, but unwilling to admit—not to Haitani nor to himself—that he was slightly afraid, and at the same time moved by the grief and jealousy he saw in his eyes. “Are you, Izuku?”

It felt like an invisible force was pulling at him.

And still, he took another step back.

“He’s my classmate, Haitani,” the green-haired boy repeated, just as he had that night. “I can’t avoid seeing him—”

“That’s not all it is,” the black-haired man insisted, and this time he grabbed Izuku by the wrists with firm, powerful hands. His breath left his lips in a gasp, and tears started to gather in his eyes. “You like him. You’re dating him, aren’t you? I bet you are. Did you fuck him already?”

“It’s not like that, Haitani, I—”

“You’re a whore,” the grip on his arms tightened gradually, and he could feel the man leaning dangerously closer to him. “You’re mine, Izuku. Mine. And you can’t get involved—”

Something in Izuku’s brain clicked at lightning speed and suddenly, his patience was gone.

“Oh, but you can?!” he shouted, tears falling freely and his voice raw. “We’re supposed to be in an open relationship! And only you get to sleep with other people?” Izuku started flailing his arms to try and free himself from the older man’s grasp, but to no avail, and it only made the grip stronger. His boyfriend’s face lit up with surprise at the outburst, but he didn’t let go. “I’m done! You think that just because I love you, you can do whatever you want with me, but it’s not like that, Haitani! I’m not your property!” He knew his voice wouldn’t reach the living room. The house was too big and the walls too thick for the fight to be overheard, but even if it did, he didn’t care anymore. So he kept yelling as he beat his fists against Haitani’s chest. “Let go of me!”

“You love me?!” Haitani repeated mockingly, laughing up at the ceiling, then gripping Izuku so hard that he froze, pain flashing on his face, though he forced himself not to make a sound. “I don’t see you showing it, so don’t say stupid shit.” Then with a rough movement, he threw him face-down onto the plush bed and loomed over him like a predator. “All you care about is having a dick between your legs and a pretty face to show off, Izuku.”

The boy sobbed, unable to answer.

“But let me tell you something,” his boyfriend added, leaning down until his face was next to Izuku’s ear to whisper. “I made you, and I can destroy you whenever I want.” His hands had started pulling down Izuku’s dress shorts along with his wool tights and underwear. Izuku didn’t do—didn’t want to do—anything but cry bitterly into the mattress, feeling so exhausted that all he wished was to lie down and sleep forever. “So yes, you’re mine. And if I say you’re not leaving me, then you’re not. Especially not for a nobody like Bakugou Katsuki.”

***

That night, Izuku returned to his room with his body aching and his heart a little more broken.

He had thought about calling just one person, but in the end, he’d ordered an Uber.

He had walked through the door of his room with his head down, shoes in his hand, and his coat soaked from the night’s snowfall. He had curled up in bed, which was next to the wall shared with the room next door, and pressed his ear to the wall hoping to hear something from the other side.

But all he heard was silence.

Deafening, endless silence.

Then he got up and took off his clothes.

His mind, blank, guided him through his tear-blurred vision. His body, stiff and on autopilot, moved by muscle memory.

He didn’t know why he was still crying if he wasn’t even capable of feeling anything anymore.

He sat down by the toilet and slowly retrieved the razor blade from under the sink, where he always kept it and where he knew no one (no one, not even Ochako or Mina) would ever find it.

He cut.

And the pain tasted so familiar it felt like everything inside him was collapsing.

He cut once, and again, and again, until his sobbing became uncontrollable and loud and he couldn’t hold it in anymore and had to drop the blade to grip the toilet bowl because the spasms wracking his body were so violent they wouldn’t let him breathe between sobs.

Then he felt it rising in his throat, an unstoppable, involuntary reflex, and before long, his bile was spilling into the toilet.

Izuku thought he’d feel lighter afterward.

But the only thing that changed was that instead of that knot in his stomach, there was now a void so immense he was afraid it might swallow him whole.

Chapter Text

The punching bag swung like a pendulum in front of his eyes.

It passed in a blur, quick and deliberate, testing him with each forceful push, only to swing back as if daring him to lunge at it—tempting him to fall and hit the cold, solid floor. Deafening, sudden, and harsh.

But something about the whole scene felt off.

It wasn’t moving on its own. It didn’t hit back. It didn’t complain. It didn’t defend itself.

It left him with that familiar feeling of something slowly building up inside again.

Day and night.

I’m always ready for a war again
Go down that road again
It’s all the same

He could feel the familiar tingling at the base of his skull. Except this time, it wasn’t caused by a person.

It was a memory. A feeling. The hunger to chase an emotion that had long since died within his dulled senses.

Tell me who’s gonna save me from myself
When this life is all I know

But now they were stirring again, demanding everything from him once more.

Who gon’ pray for me?
Take my pain for me?
Save my soul for me?

Now that the nightmares were back, he wasn’t sure they’d leave again.

It wasn’t that easy.

‘Cause I’m alone, you see

Rage flooded him in overwhelming waves, harder and harder to control. His mind drifted further and further into that red haze that clouded his vision and stole his clarity.

There was so much hatred and so much pain, all the time.

Broken.

Like an object, he’d discarded even himself.

The slow boil of his blood rising to his head, making him feel hot and furious—like back when he’d been lying on the school greenhouse grass years ago, pants pulled down, tears streaming down his face as he fought the urge to throw up.

One punch. Then another.

They’d repaired the bag some time during the week, but now he was starting to wonder if he was close to breaking it again.

Breaking—like his will.

A raw, strangled cry tore from his throat when he found no other release than slamming his poorly wrapped fist into the wall, the sound of bone against concrete sharp enough to chill the blood—though he remained unaffected. He just wanted to purge the rage and desperation chasing him down.

The gym was empty—training hours had ended over an hour ago.

He leaned his sweaty forehead against the wall and breathed through clenched teeth, letting the pain spread from the torn skin of his knuckles through his hand, crawling up his forearm and shooting through his nerves until it reached his brain. Under the bandages, a dark shadow of blood bloomed.

Breathe.

He gripped his hair and tugged, his thoughts spinning like he was trapped on an old, filthy carousel.

If he wished hard enough, would the world stop for a moment?

“Young Bakugou?”

The deep, kind voice behind him brought the carousel in his head to an abrupt stop, so jarring he felt dizzy and had to brace his full weight against the wall to keep from tipping over.

“…Are you alright?”

He didn’t know how to answer that question honestly anymore.

He turned on his heel and wiped the sweat from his face, trying to clear his vision. Coach Toshinori stood a few feet away, blue eyes shining with concern and that familiar, slouched posture. He held some papers in one hand and a water bottle in the other.

Katsuki nodded slowly.

“…Yeah,” he replied, monotonously. Then he grabbed his injured hand with the other, trying to hide the blood from the older man’s eyes. He summoned all his strength to push himself off the wall and trudged out of the room, dragging his feet, leaving Toshinori behind. The man followed closely, trying to get a better look.

“Are you hurt?”

The answer that slipped from his lips was more of an involuntary growl.

“No.”

Toshinori jogged ahead to block his path. The sudden determination in his eyes made Katsuki take a couple steps back.

“Come on. Let me take a look at that.” The man’s tone left no room for argument. Katsuki could be as frustrated and pissed as he wanted, but this was still his teacher and superior, so after a deep breath, he just nodded and followed the other blond toward his office.

Toshinori motioned for him to sit, and he did so without protest, the sting in his hand still throbbing under the thin bandage.

The older man set his things down on the desk and pulled a first aid kit from a small cabinet in the office. It was just a plastic box filled with basic supplies—if anyone got hurt at school, they were usually sent to the infirmary—but Katsuki knew Toshinori liked to be prepared.

He placed the kit on the desk and looked at him silently for a moment.

“Let me see,” he said in that same gentle but firm voice, and Katsuki slowly began to unwrap the bandage from his fist, biting back hisses as the blood-stained fabric peeled away from his raw skin. He stretched his arm out over the desk, and Toshinori immediately leaned in to examine the damage.

Katsuki prayed he wouldn’t start asking questions.

The older man began opening small bottles of disinfectant and other supplies, silently cleaning the bloodied knuckles with sterile gauze.

Katsuki watched him work, his mind drifting again to places he didn’t want to go—but would inevitably return to, probably for the rest of his life.

“You know, son,” the coach said suddenly, snapping him back to reality. He was focused on wiping the dried blood from around the cracked skin. “You’ve seemed a little upset lately.”

Katsuki glanced at him and made a low humming sound in his throat.

“I’ve just been tired,” the boy muttered, his tone dragging—clearly not in the mood to talk.

“I can see that,” Toshinori replied immediately, now applying some kind of healing ointment to the wound. “But anger and violence aren’t the outlet you’re looking for.”

The blond gave him a thoughtful look and took several seconds to respond.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he mumbled under his breath.

The older man started placing gauze over his knuckles, securing it with skin-safe tape. “I don’t know what’s bothering you, son,” he added, his voice tense but still understanding and kind—and Katsuki hated how it felt like a warm hug to his chest. “But if you need someone to talk to, I’m here.”

The boy stayed silent, unable to reply. The ticking clock on the wall echoed in his head.

“When you’re young, it feels like your problems are too big to fix,” the coach continued, taping down the gauze with long strips of transparent tape. “And sometimes we don’t want to share them because we’re afraid of being judged. But trust me, son, nothing in this life is worth tearing yourself up like this.”

Katsuki froze for a moment, thinking over his words.

But he didn’t answer.

“Whatever it is you’re going through—it’ll pass,” the older man went on, wrapping his hand again with a clean bandage. “But I think the best thing you could do… is talk to someone about it.”

The boy said nothing.

"I was your age once," Toshinori continued. "And sometimes I felt invincible and untouchable, but other times I felt so low I could barely get back up."

He had finished bandaging his hand and was now slowly putting away the supplies he’d used, taking his time between each word.

"But over time, I learned that you don’t have to face everything alone."

Then he lifted his face, and blue met ruby, a sincere offer shining in his eyes.

"There will always be someone willing to help us."

And with that, he stood up, the first aid kit tucked under his arm, and returned it to the cabinet.

The younger one remained seated, head down, the carousel in his head spinning at full speed again as he tried to make sense of his mentor’s words. But more than anything, there was a growing unease blooming in his gut.

You don’t have to face everything alone.

The older man’s heavy hand landed on his shoulder in a paternal gesture, and then he gave him a wide smile. The expression gave him the confidence he needed to rein in his thoughts and abruptly stop the vortex that had started swirling in his mind again.

"All patched up," Toshinori said as he stood up and nodded in his direction in gratitude. Then he headed for the door.

He paused for a moment at the threshold and gave the older man one last glance over his shoulder.

"Thanks, Toshi," he murmured, using the shortened version of his name almost unconsciously. The man smiled at him once more.

"Don’t mention it, young Bakugou."

***

When his bedroom door opened, it was already past 11 PM.

The light from the hallway lit up his face for a moment, enough to make him squint open one eye lazily and shift awkwardly beneath the covers.

At some point in the late afternoon or early evening, he’d fallen asleep while studying, with books and notebooks scattered across the bed, along with his uniform that he had taken off. A dry ache spread through his neck when he tried to lift his head to figure out what was happening after hearing soft noises in the dark. It told him he’d probably slept in some weird position.

The sounds continued, and then the click of the door closing made him fully alert. He opened his eyes wide, but saw only darkness. Then, he felt an added weight on the bed, pressing down on his books and other things.

"'Zuku?"

For the past two weeks, he’d been leaving his door open at night — for reasons that, while obvious to anyone else, he stubbornly continued to ignore and deny to himself. It had been like this every night for those long and torturous fifteen days. Izuku would return from his classes and slip into his room like some nocturnal creature, sneaking under his covers and wrapping himself around him like a vine.

And he would cry.

Katsuki didn’t know what was weighing so heavily on the younger boy, but apparently the only thing he could do about it was not to turn him away — and take care of him however he could. So much so that they had reached the point where, on weekends, Izuku spent the entire time locked away with him in the room, doing whatever — or just sleeping. And sometimes the kid had such bad days that Katsuki practically had to bathe and feed him. It had become a sort of new normal that both had accepted so quickly neither of them stopped to consider the consequences.

Izuku no longer talked about Haitani, and Katsuki was anxious about it — but he also couldn’t push him on the subject. It was like the man had vanished from the picture, but Katsuki had seen Izuku ignore his calls several times a day, and more than once he’d returned from ballet classes visibly shaken, with fresh bruises on different parts of his body.

The blond was starting to get seriously worried.

But Izuku had already told him once that it wasn’t his place to say anything.
So the best he could do was absolutely nothing.

"Izuku?" he asked again into the darkness, the hairs on his arms standing on end when the warmth of the other boy’s body pressed against his bare skin under the blanket, seeking him out until he clung to his back with trembling hands and a cold cheek rested against his shoulder blade. He was only wearing his winter pajama pants, so Izuku’s bare hands on his skin caught him off guard, waking him up completely. Izuku took a deep breath, then ran the tip of his nose along his shoulder.

"It’s me, Kacchan," he whispered, his voice muffled under the layers of blankets and the thick coat he still had on. "Did I wake you?"

Katsuki found the smaller hand in the darkness and held it gently between his fingers.

"No." Outside, though it wasn’t snowing, the windows were fogged and damp. From the avenue came the faint sound of nighttime traffic horns. "I was studying."

The green-haired boy fell silent for several seconds before releasing a single phrase that made Katsuki swallow hard.

"I want to take a bath," Izuku whispered so softly that, if not for the sepulchral silence in the room, Katsuki wouldn’t have heard him. There was a request in his words — but also an order.

Over time, Katsuki had learned that Izuku was like this: sweet, kind, and thoughtful, but also demanding, moody, and fickle. He had a subtle way of getting into your head and making you do whatever he wanted — then convincing you it had been your idea.

He liked things his way, but could also bend if you knew which buttons to push. It was exhausting and fascinating at the same time, and Katsuki often found himself so immersed in him he couldn’t separate one thing from the other.

But now, seeing him this hurt and vulnerable, all he wanted was to take some of the weight off his shoulders. Yet every time he tried, Izuku just seemed to put it right back on him.

"I’ll go run the bath." He gently untangled himself from the boy and got out of bed, heading to the bathroom. Izuku watched him from the bed, curled up into a ball.

He turned on the hot water and plugged the ceramic tub. Then he returned to the bedroom and switched on the nightstand lamp.

"Did you eat dinner, Izuku?" he asked from the bathroom doorway, arms crossed over his chest. He already knew the answer, but forced himself to ask anyway.

"I had katsudon after class," Izuku lied without hesitation, and Katsuki bit the inside of his cheek — because he couldn’t confront him with nothing but disbelief.

"Okay," he said, the worry blooming again in the pit of his stomach. How long had it been since Izuku last ate? "How did it go with Nagant?"

The boy rolled onto his stomach and gave him a tired smile — but a smile nonetheless.

"Much better." There was a trace of happiness in his voice that made Katsuki exhale with relief. "She hasn’t scolded me so much anymore, and she said I’m ready."

The blond gave him a smirk. "That sounds great, freckles."

Izuku pouted and sat up on the bed to start taking off his coat.

Then, Katsuki’s phone rang on the nightstand.

The green-haired boy turned toward the device making the jarring sound that broke the peace of the room, and a look of total confusion crossed his face. Katsuki, standing in front of him, went stiff and ran a hand through his spiky, messy hair.

They both stayed quiet while the phone kept ringing — until it finally stopped. Then, just as Katsuki was about to grab it, it started ringing again.

Izuku noticed the way his body tensed again, and he finished taking off his coat and turned to look at him with a relaxed smile.

"Aren’t you going to answer?" Izuku asked, starting to remove his scarf. Katsuki had stopped a few steps from the nightstand and was glancing back and forth between the phone and Izuku’s face.

He picked it up and pressed the green button quickly, bringing it to his ear with the hope that Izuku wouldn’t pay attention to the conversation.

"Hey, Uri," he greeted casually, heading to the bathroom to shut off the hot water once the tub was full.

"Hey, Bakugou," the girl greeted cheerfully on the other end. "Sorry for the hour, you weren’t asleep, were you?"

Katsuki came out of the bathroom and his eyes immediately landed on Izuku, who was now sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, seemingly distracted by something on his phone. "N-No," he replied — and wanted to punch himself for sounding so stiff. So he quickly added, "What’s up?"

He could feel the girl on the other end getting nervous.

"Nothing," Uri replied into the mic, "it’s just that— uhm— my brother got me tickets to the Skytree winter concert, but— he needs to confirm soon so they hold the seats and—" she paused for a few seconds, and Katsuki could hear her take a breath. "I was wondering if you’d like to go with me, and I didn’t want to wait to ask."

Things between him and Uri had been going fairly well—if it could even be said there was something between them. After their first date, more had followed, and Katsuki found himself surprised to realize that he didn’t feel miserable or completely disgusted in the girl’s presence—though it wasn’t as if he particularly enjoyed it either. Kirishima and Denki had insisted it would do him good to keep seeing her, and so, overwhelmed as he was by all the emotions pressing down on him and the stress of not knowing what exactly was going on between him and Izuku, he had taken the chance.

The result? Sooner rather than later, the girl had shown she was head over heels, and he himself had started to feel drawn to her.

The problem? He still hadn’t told Izuku anything about it.

Not that the boy could really say anything about it—but somehow Katsuki felt that if Izuku found out, things would change.

On the other hand, he still had no idea what the hell was going on between him and Haitani. Izuku seemed to have stopped with the random one-night stands and conquests, but Haitani had always been a different story.

“It’s fine, Uri,” he replied, forcing some interest into his voice. “When is it?”

“This Sunday.”

He did the math in his head.

“Okay. I think I’m free, but I’ll confirm later, is that alright?” His eyes drifted toward Izuku again, and this time he found the boy looking at him with interest, curiosity sparkling in his gaze as he heard him setting the date. “I’ve got to go now.”

She hummed in acknowledgment. “Thanks for answering, Bakugou. Sleep well.”

“Night, Uri,” Katsuki muttered under his breath, hoping Izuku hadn’t heard—but knowing that was impossible. When he hung up, olive eyes followed him as the boy unbuttoned his shirt and climbed off the bed.

The question came quickly—more quickly than he expected.

“You’re going out this Sunday?”

The younger boy stood before him and finished taking off his shirt. Then he lowered his pants, all with his head bowed, eyes on the floor, unreadable. Katsuki could feel his heart pounding against his ribcage with something like anxiety, but he couldn’t explain why.

“Y-Yeah, I think so,” the blond whispered, suddenly feeling small in the other boy’s presence. Izuku nodded and then began to remove his leotard, and Katsuki’s mouth went dry when, despite his efforts, he couldn’t look away from the skin gradually revealed in front of him. Crimson eyes followed the elegant, almost mechanical movements of the other boy, taking in every inch of him. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen Izuku’s bare skin—he’d bathed him before—but it was the first time the tension in the room felt so heavy, the air between them taking on a new and different tone. Katsuki couldn’t see Izuku’s eyes, but he could read the intent in his movements.

“With Uri?” Then the boy looked up and met his gaze.

There was something dancing there.

Something alive, rough, and dominant.

Jealousy.

Possessiveness.

Katsuki felt that if he took one wrong step, the boy would lunge straight for his throat.

“Y-Yeah.” He exhaled, stammering again because he couldn’t find the air to form the words he wanted to say, barely managing a single syllable as Izuku finished removing the leotard and began to take off his tights, his eyes never leaving his.

“Who’s Uri?” he finally asked, and the question hit Katsuki like a slap, snapping him out of it.

It took several seconds for the taller one to find the right words in his brain.

“She’s… a friend,” he lied, knowing full well he was being blatant about it. Uri wasn’t his friend. While they didn’t have a defined relationship and Uri didn’t know he was seeing Izuku, they were—in some form—dating. He blinked.

Izuku looked at him silently. Standing there, upright, in nothing but his underwear and the dim light casting shapeless shadows over his body, Katsuki wanted to pull him into his arms just as much as he wanted to run away.

The green-haired boy nodded slowly and, without saying another word, walked to the bathroom. The other followed, like a snake to a flute, and watched him climb into the tub without a sound.

Izuku simply sat there, and that was enough for him.

Like a silent command, Katsuki knelt at the edge of the tub and, using the handheld showerhead, began wetting the green hair until it was fully soaked. Then he took some shampoo and started to massage it gently. His mind drifted far from the moment.

They remained in complete silence as he rinsed the soap from Izuku’s hair, the soft strands sliding between his fingers like silk, bubbles popping on the clear surface of the warm water that slowly turned opaque. He grabbed their shared sponge and began to gently scrub his back and every bit of skin he could reach while the boy let himself be handled like a doll—motionless, simply staring into the void, only he and God knowing what thoughts were racing through his head.

Katsuki took his time letting his fingertips graze the damp skin, his eyes lost among hundreds and hundreds of freckles falling like grains of sand, giving the boy’s body the look of a galaxy.

And with each passing second, he felt more drawn to him—like a magnet pulling him in, tugging at his center of gravity toward nothingness—

A sob echoed in the bathroom.

The blond’s body went stiff instantly, noticing the faint trembling of the boy’s bony shoulders inside the tub. Then, suddenly, Izuku brought his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, letting himself cry. It was quiet, high-pitched, and restrained. He was holding back for some reason Katsuki couldn’t understand. When he tried to lift his face, the boy pulled away a bit too roughly.

Izuku curled into himself, and the older one had never seen him look so small.

“Do you think I’m just some slut?”

Raw. Brutal.

“Do you also think… I deserve to be treated like trash?”

Katsuki felt the lump in his throat form so fast that when he spoke, his voice sounded strange and foreign to him.

“Why would you say that, Izuku?”

“Answer me.” Tears were still falling from his eyes, but now, instead of looking sad like before, they looked lifeless and dull. He had turned to face him again, that fierce, almost aggressive expression returning—like he felt personally attacked by the blond for some reason—so Katsuki slowly moved away from the tub to give him space. He had to finish washing himself anyway.

“I don’t think that, Izuku.” He said it firmly, with conviction. Then he stood and looked at him from above. Something in the green-haired boy’s pained expression made him want to fall back to his knees and lean in again—but he didn’t.

“I think whatever your boyfriend is doing to you is going to break you if you don’t stop him soon.”

Izuku stared at him, those big eyes filled—overflowing—with tears that wouldn’t stop. Then he turned away and buried his face in his hands, sobbing bitterly.

Katsuki left the bathroom and shut the door behind him.

There was a heavy, sticky feeling in his chest—like every time he tried to breathe, his lungs couldn’t expand enough to let the air in. He could hear Izuku’s sobs echoing from the tub on the other side of the door.

***

The next day—Saturday—Izuku woke up in a better mood, but that didn’t mean he was any less sensitive.

When Katsuki returned from his morning run, the boy was still wrapped up in his sheets, limbs sprawled everywhere, body limp like clay, drooling slightly on his pillow.

That day, he didn’t have anything to do, but he wasn’t sure if Izuku was planning to go out or stay locked in with him again. Not that the idea bothered him, but it made him uneasy in some way. The truth was, Izuku had been growing more demanding with the attention he expected from him, and Katsuki couldn’t help getting all jittery because of it.

Maybe he could offer to take him out for breakfast and a walk, avoid being alone with him for too long.

Tomorrow he’d go out with Uri, and that alone made him anxious too.

He got into the shower and stayed under the hot water longer than usual, giving himself a moment to weigh his thoughts and options.

The truth was that those things that had been changing between Izuku and him—things that had once seemed so abstract and shapeless—were starting to feel less and less blurry.

Even to him, who wasn’t exactly well-versed in these matters.

The way his heart would race every time Izuku was near, the burning tingle on his skin wherever the boy touched him, his mind circling again and again around green, green, and more green.

Maybe he liked Izuku a little more than he could admit.

But admit it to whom? To himself? To Izuku?

And what did Izuku feel for him?

It had been a couple of intense, overwhelming, and confusing months for everyone, and realizing he had a crush on someone who maybe wasn’t even close to feeling the same way about him was a shock that made him sit tensely in his seat.

And regardless of whether Izuku felt absolutely nothing for him and was just looking for some momentary relief from how awful Haitani made him feel, Katsuki had come to realize that Izuku was by far the most unstable person he had ever met in his life.

By now he was certain the boy had a serious issue with food, that codependent, toxic relationship of his, and more than once Katsuki had seen signs that hinted he sometimes hurt himself.

Among other things.

Every day, Kirishima’s words weighed on his shoulders, and every day they seemed heavier and heavier. But also, with each passing day, it became harder to put distance between himself and Izuku.

He couldn’t. Sometimes he simply didn’t want to.

On the contrary, with every day, his desire and need for the boy only seemed to grow stronger.

And Izuku, instead of slowing him down, only kept adding more fuel to the fire.

When he stepped out of the bathroom, he made sure he was already dry and dressed. Izuku was still sleeping on the bed, emerald curls gracefully falling over his face, his back rising and falling with the rhythm of his breathing. Outside, it had started snowing again.

Katsuki turned on some music at a volume just loud enough for him to hear, but not enough to wake the other up. He walked to the bed as Patrick Stump’s voice blared in the background with I Don’t Care.

He touched the freckled shoulder gently and gave it a small squeeze.

“’Zuku,” he murmured, his eyes flickering between the boy’s face and the clock on his nightstand that read 9:16 AM. “Izuku.”

But the boy didn’t move.

He leaned down to his ear level and paused to listen to the soft sound of his breathing. Then he pretended it didn’t make him feel like a total creep.

“Izuku,” he repeated, this time shaking him a little more.

Maybe he should just let him sleep?

He could go make breakfast. Then let him know it was ready and ask if he wanted to go out. Maybe...

His eyes inevitably drifted to the purplish-yellow bruises scattered along Izuku’s arms and wrists, and his lips pressed into a hard line.

Faint ghost-like handprints marked soft pale skin.

His hand moved on its own to Izuku’s left arm, and with just the tips of his fingers, he brushed over the dark bruise decorating the inside of his wrist. Something strange, almost like nausea, twisted in his stomach while something close to anger rooted itself at the base of his brain.

New anger mixing with the old anger he had been carrying for—years.

“Good morning, Kacchan.” Izuku’s hoarse, sleepy voice pulled him back as always, to reality, to him, as easily as bees to honey, and Katsuki blinked toward him, not missing the way Izuku pulled his wrist away from his touch and tucked it under the blankets as he rolled onto his back.

His face was slightly swollen and his hair a tangled mess in every direction.

The sight sent electricity coursing through Katsuki’s entire body.

“Hi,” he said softly, leaning back a little to give the younger boy space. “Sorry for waking you.”

Izuku shook his head firmly and glanced at the clock on his nightstand. “I should’ve woken up earlier.”

Katsuki looked at him, confused. “Why?”

Izuku didn’t answer right away. He just stared at the ceiling, clutching the white sheet between his fingers.

“I want to visit my mom.”

The blond blinked, pleasantly surprised.

“That— That’s great, ‘Zuku.”

Katsuki didn’t know when the last time was that Izuku had visited his mom, but he did know they had a good relationship—at least, that’s what Izuku had told him. And honestly, he thought spending time with her would do him good. Maybe it wouldn’t completely lift him out of the depression his toxic relationship had pushed him into, but it would help a little. He hoped. Seeing the boy take the initiative to do something good for himself was a refreshing relief.

Izuku looked at him with those wide, gem-like eyes and took a deep breath, observing him in silence. Katsuki started to get nervous, so he figured he needed to break the silence with something else.

“Y-You can take a shower while I go make breakfast—”

Izuku kept staring at him silently.

“…And… after…”

Damn it, it was like looking into his eyes turned his brain into mush.

Then Izuku pushed himself up onto one arm and buried the other hand into Katsuki’s spiky hair, pulling him into a short, closed-mouth kiss.

Katsuki nearly sighed into it, if not for the fact that the other pulled away far too soon.

“Would you like to come with me?” Izuku asked in a whisper, his eyes seeking his through thick lashes with a look that reminded Katsuki of the glassy eyes of porcelain dolls.

Katsuki swallowed. “Where?” he asked, stupidly, his brain lagging behind until Izuku burst out laughing.

“To my mom’s, dummy.” If Katsuki had gone a little blank before, this time the shock paralyzed him.

He stared at the green-haired boy’s brilliant smile, and once again, his heart did that funny skip in his chest.

Izuku didn’t look like he was joking at all.

But Katsuki couldn’t gather his thoughts enough to just—answer.

The boy seemed to notice the growing panic on his face, because a second later, the smile disappeared from his lips and surprise filled his eyes as the realization of what his invitation implied hit him. He quickly sat up and nervously played with the sheets between his fingers. “I mean— I’m just asking, you don’t have to come if you don’t want to— I just thought— I didn’t mean it like that, you know? Not—”

Katsuki knew what he meant, but he couldn’t help feeling the pressure anyway. His face flushed inevitably as he avoided Izuku’s gaze.

“It’s just that I’ve told her about you— she knows we’re good friends and—”

At that word, the blond snapped out of it.

“It’s okay, Izuku,” he interrupted, hoping to cut through the nervousness that had suddenly taken over the boy and feeling guilty for it. “I’d love to go with you.”

The green-haired boy looked up at him with renewed hope. A pretty pink hue bloomed across his cheeks.

“Really?”

He nodded. “No problem. We just need to go eat, then we can head out.”

Izuku inhaled as if he needed all the air in the room to fill his lungs, then leaned over to kiss him again. After that, he got out of bed and rummaged through Katsuki’s closet until he pulled out a random shirt and started putting it on.

“I’ll shower later—I bathed last night,” Izuku said offhandedly, slipping into Katsuki’s clothes like they were his own, not caring how oversized they were. He dug through drawers until he found a pair of sweatpants that might fit and put them on, laughing a bit when he saw himself in the mirror.

“Do I look weird?” he asked, looking at him through the reflection while adjusting the clothes. Katsuki just didn’t have the heart to tell him to go to his room and change.

So he tried to shove far down and deep away the feelings stirred in him by seeing Izuku in his clothes.

“N-No,” he replied, standing up and putting on his coat as Izuku tied his shoes. The green-haired boy flashed him a smile.

That was the thing with Izuku lately. He could have the worst night and still wake up the next morning as if nothing happened. Katsuki felt lost most of the time trying to guess what he was feeling.

When they left the room, Shinsou was closing his door with the energy of a sloth.

“Hey there, lovebirds,” the boy greeted with a lazy grin, glancing over them quickly before shoving his keys into his pants. He pointed toward the elevator with his thumb. “Coming?”

Katsuki tried to hide the vein that twitched in his forehead at the nickname but locked his door and followed Izuku, who joined Shinsou in cheerful conversation as they walked.

Downstairs, the noise level was already high when they arrived.

The TV was on and the place was bustling.

“Izuku!” Ochako’s voice pierced the air like a dart straight to his ears, making him turn instinctively. Ahead, Izuku walked to her, and they hugged like they hadn’t just seen each other yesterday in class.

Beside him, Kirishima got his attention, and then he lost sight of Izuku entirely. He vaguely saw their classmates gathering in the kitchen and dining area with their breakfast.

“Hey, going out today?” Kirishima asked, throwing an arm around his shoulders like he always did.

Katsuki ran a hand through his hair, searching for an excuse, but knew everyone would see him leave with Izuku anyway, so there was no point in lying.

“I’m taking Izuku somewhere.” He replied simply, eyes scanning the room until he spotted the familiar mess of green curls again.

Kirishima gave his shoulder a light squeeze and offered a closed-lip smile that looked more like a sympathetic gesture. “Alright, man.”

He thought he’d ask something else, but the redhead changed the topic. “How’s it going with Uri?”

He cleared his throat. “Good. We’re going out tomorrow.”

“Cool!” Kirishima patted his chest like a brother.

“Hey everyone, breakfast is served!” Hagakure and Jirou called from the kitchen doorway, and Mina waved at Kirishima to hurry from the table, prompting the redhead to lean close and whisper, “I need to talk to you about something.”

Katsuki turned to him with confusion in his crimson eyes. But the guy didn’t say another word as he confidently walked away.

The blond clicked his tongue in frustration. What was with all the secrecy now? Suddenly he felt stupid.

When they finished breakfast, he made sure to tell the girls it was his turn to handle next weekend’s breakfast, and without much fanfare, the two of them slipped out, not saying exactly where they were headed.

Not that anyone aside from idiot Denki had asked.

He figured Mina and Ochako were aware of most of what was going on in Izuku’s life, and for the rest, he imagined they either didn’t care or had other ways of finding out.

Still, what Kirishima said had left him more nervous than usual.

As they drove, Izuku chatted cheerfully about his mom while snow slammed against the windows.

On the radio, the news warned of one of the worst snowstorms in Japan’s history coming in the next week.

***

Inko Midoriya was a hugger.

Katsuki had partly expected it, given everything Izuku had told him about her on the way to his house, but what he hadn't expected at all was that the warmth of her embrace and the softness of her body enveloping him wouldn't make him uncomfortable in the slightest.

She had straight hair, unlike her son, but in the same bright, healthy emerald tone that immediately stood out. She was short—shorter than Izuku—and had soft, plush curves.

Katsuki could easily tell that she wasn’t just soft on the outside, but on the inside too.

She welcomed them with hot chocolate and marshmallows for a snack, and cheerfully announced she was making katsudon for lunch. Katsuki hadn’t been able to fight off his shyness at first, a bit overwhelmed by meeting the woman, but she turned out to be so pleasant that he soon found himself feeling right at home on her couch, laughing with them as they flipped through the family photo album.

“I’m so happy my Izuku has made a new friend,” Inko said, her voice like cotton candy brushing over his nucleus accumbens. “It’s been a while since he brought anyone home, and lately he’s seemed a little down.” She finished her sentence while stroking her son’s silky curls with a chubby hand. Izuku sat between her and the blond on the couch, holding the photo album on his lap.

Katsuki could feel Izuku go slightly rigid beside him.

“M-Mom,” he said with an awkward laugh. “I’m fine, I’ve just been tired—and you know Haitani hasn’t had time to visit.”

Katsuki noticed that it was the woman now, who stiffened at the mention of the man’s name.

“I know,” she conceded. “I’m just saying you and Katsuki seem to get along very well.”

It was both their turns to feel the heat rising to their faces.

Questions bubbled up in Katsuki’s mind, but he ignored them for the moment and filed them away into the drawer in his head labeled for later. He adjusted his glasses on his nose.

“Oh, here’s my baby on his first day of kindergarten,” Inko said when silence settled again, taking the album from Izuku’s hands and lifting it so the three of them could see the photo up close. It showed a three-year-old Izuku in an adorable little school uniform, wearing a yellow hat and rain boots. He was crying, face full of snot, and looking fearfully at something behind the camera. “He had a really hard time adjusting at first. He would cry for hours until I came to pick him up, and he tried to run away several times.” She pointed to another picture where an older Izuku stood atop a parade float, dressed as what appeared to be a bee, looking distractedly off into the distance. “This was at the spring festival in his last year. He was such an active little kid. I remember he used to run around the house naked out of nowhere, and once he stuck a bean up his nose and I had to take him to the hospital.”

Katsuki couldn’t help the amused smile that tugged at his lips at the image.

Izuku turned red to his ears and looked at his mother with a horrified expression. “M-Mom!”

“What? It’s the truth. You were a very whiny, spoiled, and mischievous baby.” She pinched his red cheek lovingly. “You still are.”

The boy gave a resigned twist of his lips, and then Inko leaned forward until her tidy bun came into Katsuki’s line of sight. She looked at him with a kind smile. “What about you, Katsuki?”

The blond looked at her, confusion in his eyes, not understanding what she meant. She laughed at his lost expression.

“What were you like as a child?”

Katsuki froze at the wave of memories that crashed over him like a hurricane.

He licked his lips nervously and scratched the back of his neck in a poor attempt to divert attention from his suddenly pale face.

“I… I really don’t remember,” he said, as flashes of dull pain, scraped knees, and the feeling of a heavy weight on his chest overwhelmed him. “I think my mom could answer that question better.” He added with a plastic, automatic smile.

Izuku looked at him with doubtful eyes, but Inko seemed to accept his excuse and let the topic hang unspoken between them.

Inko went on telling stories about Izuku’s childhood for at least another hour and a half, and Katsuki found himself completely fascinated, listening intently to every word. Izuku mostly complained about his mother embarrassing him, but that didn’t stop her from sharing every little detail of what he used to do within the four walls of that small apartment. The blond felt a familiar warmth in his chest, similar to what he experienced when he spent time with his own family back home, and he realized that despite being small, Izuku’s family was something special.

At some point, he grew curious about the green-haired boy’s father, but when neither the boy nor his mother ever mentioned the man, he figured it was best not to ask.

Hours passed in conversation, and when lunchtime finally arrived, Katsuki was utterly shocked to discover that the katsudon was probably the best he had ever tasted in his life.

“This is incredible, Katsuki,” Inko said, dabbing her lips with a paper napkin as she finished her plate, her expression full of pleasant surprise. “What you want to study sounds really difficult.”

The blond offered a closed-lip smile, took a sip of water, and replied, “It’s actually not that complicated,” he said casually, though in truth he wasn’t all that sure. “I think what Izuku does is way harder.”

The poor boy next to him choked on his bite.

“It’s not that big of a deal,” Izuku said after recovering with a few thumps to his chest. His face was red as ripe apples. “I think every career has its own level of difficulty, right, Ma?”

She nodded in agreement and gave them a look that felt strange to Katsuki.

“That’s right, Zuzu.”

They fell silent for a moment as they watched TV from the dining table. On the news, a reporter was broadcasting live from somewhere in snowy Tokyo. Not long after, Inko spoke up again.

“Maybe someday your parents and sister could come over for dinner, Katsuki,” she said suddenly, and although the boy was taken a bit off guard, he nodded in her direction after a moment.

“Thank you,” he said, not quite sure what else to say. It was the first time he’d met the woman, but she seemed either too kind or… he didn’t know. Maybe for anyone else this would have felt too soon, but for some reason, it didn’t bother him.

Next to him, Izuku tugged softly on the sleeve of his coat and looked at him with eyes shining with anticipation—eyes that, in that moment, looked a lot like his mother’s.

“That’d be great, Kacchan,” Izuku said with a smile. “I mean— the apartment’s small, but—”

“We’ll be a bit cramped, but I’ll make sure to cook something delicious,” his mother finished for him with a smile that nearly made Katsuki’s legs feel like jelly, the warmth around him too much to bear.

Suddenly, Katsuki saw the full picture.

And it hit him just how… alone Inko and Izuku really were.

He smiled back at the boy, something new and yearning pulsing in his chest as he lost himself for a moment in olive eyes and pink lips and spinning and spinning and spinning and—

“…You could make sushi, right, Mom?” The boy’s sweet voice jolted him like a freight truck and made him realize what he’d almost done, now leaning toward Izuku like his mother wasn’t even sitting on the other side of the table.

Izuku was laughing nervously, every shade of red painting his ears down to his neck as he leaned back in a poor attempt to put distance between them.

Katsuki wanted to slam his head into the table.

He settled back into his seat and left the poor boy alone.

He sneaked a glance at Inko, only to find the woman resting her chin on her palm, her elbow on the table, now watching them with something that tasted a lot like fascination to Katsuki, and he wanted to slam his head into the table again. What the hell had just happened? He brought his glass of water to his lips and drank until it was empty. Then Inko seemed to snap back into conversation, continuing with that smile that radiated deep happiness.

“Of course, Zuzu. Sushi would be fine. Do your parents like sushi, Katsuki?”

Katsuki swallowed. “Y-Yeah— My sister too—”

“Perfect.”

In the end, the afternoon turned out to be one of the most pleasant Katsuki had had in a long time.

By the time it was time to leave, it was already past three in the afternoon, and Izuku and he were carrying several containers of homemade food to get through the upcoming week—and the promise to come back soon.

“Don’t forget to call,” Inko said to her son at the door, holding his face in her hands and kissing both of his cheeks. “Please eat well—and don’t overwork yourself too much.”

“Don’t worry, Mom,” Izuku said, hugging her and then kissing her forehead. He smiled and stepped aside so Katsuki could say goodbye to her. “Remember, the recital is next week.”

“Of course, sweetheart,” she said, wrapping the blond in a hug he returned with a fondness that had sprouted and taken root in just one day. “I’ll be there. Please, take care, both of you.”

Katsuki nodded. “Thanks for the food, Mrs. Mido—Inko.” He immediately corrected himself, remembering that earlier that morning the woman had asked him to just call her by her first name.

“It’s nothing, sweetheart.” She gently stroked his cheek and watched them as they started going down the stairs. “Let me know when you get there, Izuku.”

“Sure, Ma.”

When they got into the car, it was still snowing outside, so Katsuki had to maneuver the vehicle to get out onto the avenue. Izuku had a smile on his lips, a completely different aura from the night before, humming cheerfully to the rhythm of Everybody Wants To Rule The World while the cold afternoon air fiercely tousled his curls.

Katsuki, although trying to suppress the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, finally gave in as he looked ahead at the street crowded with cars despite the weather.

Suddenly, Izuku stretched out his arm and turned up the radio volume, laughing out loud.

The blond looked at him sideways with a raised eyebrow.

“What are we laughing about, excuse me?”

Izuku took a few minutes to answer, singing and looking out the window.

“I’m just happy.” He said, over the music. Then he fell silent for a moment. “Thanks for coming with me.”

Katsuki felt the words get stuck in his throat but managed to say, “You don’t have to thank me, Izuku. I’m glad you feel better.”

The boy tucked his hair behind his ear and thoughtfully stared at the car floor for a while. The song ended and another began as Izuku nervously bit his thumbnail.

“Kacchan—“

The sound of a horn interrupted him, making the boy snap out of it, jolting in his seat while gasping like a fish out of water and then falling silent again.

The blond looked at him sideways, curiosity growing in his chest as he adjusted his position on the road to stop the lunatic behind them from honking.

And although whatever Izuku had wanted to say never left his lips, the atmosphere inside the car remained calm and peaceful for the rest of the ride.

***

By Sunday, when he picked up Uri at her house, he had a hell of a headache.

He had spent the rest of Saturday watching movies with Izuku in his room, and on Sunday the boy had excused himself early, saying he had a couple of things to do, and had left first thing in the morning. So Katsuki had spent the whole day doing laundry and cleaning his room.

By six o’clock, after having showered and gotten ready, he felt so lazy that all he wanted was to lie down on his bed and sleep until the next day.

But there he was, holding the hand of a girl who made him feel a little out of place, spending his allowance, and thinking about a hundred and one things—everything except the girl in question.

He felt guilty.

Uri was a good girl.

She was pretty, it seemed like she genuinely liked him, and she put effort into making their dates work. He tried to at least reciprocate, but his interest was constantly affected by Izuku’s presence in his life. He really wished he could focus on her more than on the boy, but he thought it was probably a little late for that. And it’s not that he was using her—that was the last thing he’d do. He just didn’t want Izuku’s whirlwind to swallow him whole.

He could feel it, if he focused—deep inside him: strange butterflies in his stomach when Uri kissed his cheek or caressed the nape of his neck, the slight change in his breathing when she was so close he could smell her vanilla perfume.

It was sweet and cloying, different from Izuku’s, who smelled like honey and forest lilies.

But it wasn’t unpleasant.

Uri was patient, attentive, considerate, and very loving. She had a calm temperament, like the tranquil sea in spring, and when they saw each other, it was like taking a breath of fresh air that reset his console. It was like starting over, getting organized, and continuing. She lifted the weight off his shoulders during the brief moments they were together.

They hadn’t kissed yet, but Katsuki had noticed the clear longing in her.

For some reason, although a part of him wanted to, the other (the part tied to Izuku) reproached him even for the thought. For now, he thought it best to let things flow. Now that Izuku knew of her existence—of Uri—although they hadn’t talked about it yet, Katsuki knew Izuku would have something to say.

Although Uri knew about Izuku’s existence—mostly because he didn’t have many other friends and when the topic came up she couldn’t help but bring up Izuku every now and then—they didn’t talk much about him, although lately she had started showing more interest in what was happening between the two—for some reason.

“Did you like the concert?” Uri asked, hanging onto his arm as they crossed the large glass doors of the building toward the exit. She wore a black dress that gracefully accentuated her figure and a stylish fleece coat. Her jet-black hair was pulled up in a perfect bun, shining against the backlight of the streetlamps. “I think it was magnificent, don’t you?”

It was past eight at night, and the snow had stopped for a moment, so Katsuki thought a nighttime walk around the neighborhood was a good idea. His car was parked a little way off.

“It was very good, indeed,” he replied, his hands tucked inside his coat. He had had to put on a fancy suit and a long coat he only wore on special occasions because the girl had told him it was a formal event. “I think the violins were particularly perfect. But I don’t know much about that.” He finished, looking at her with an amused smile that made her laugh.

They walked in silence for a few minutes until the dark-haired girl broke it again.

“How’s Himiko?” she asked, seeming genuinely interested, and the blond distractedly kicked a stone on the path before answering.

“She’s fine,” he murmured. “Preparing for the regionals.”

Uri squeezed his arm with contained excitement. “Really? I can’t wait to see her dance.”

Katsuki tensed because somehow that sentence implied an invitation that wasn’t on him, but on his sister. And his sister still didn’t know about Uri’s existence.

“There’s still time, I think it’ll be next year.”

“It’s already December, Bakugou.” She replied with a silly giggle.

The blond opened his mouth to answer but suddenly froze when, halfway down the street, his gaze landed on a poster in the window of what looked like a small café.

It was a starring poster with a good-looking photo of Izuku and another girl in the center, in their ballet costumes. Around them were other faces he didn’t recognize, and in large, bright pastel letters the title read:

“THE NUTCRACKER: SEASONAL BALLET AT THE TOKYO ORB DECEMBER 24”

Katsuki stared at the photo for a moment, then quickly read the information. Uri, confused, stopped beside him not understanding what was happening until her eyes also landed on the poster and she began reading it with him.

There was a small print list naming the main characters and their performers. Izuku’s name was there, second after a certain Pony Tsunotori.

He didn’t know how long he stayed looking at the poster until the café doorbell rang, indicating a new customer entering.

Uri looked up at him from her height with big, perfectly lined eyes.

“Is that your friend Izuku?”

Katsuki blinked.

“Er— yeah. That’s my Izuku.”

A second later his brain processed what he’d said and panic took hold. He tried to fix it as fast as possible, feeling tremendously stupid and embarrassed.

“I mean— my friend Izuku.”

The girl either ignored him or really didn’t understand what had just happened.

“It must be a very prestigious ballet,” she commented, pulling out her phone and taking a photo of the poster. Katsuki looked at her confused but didn’t say anything about it. Then she smiled angelically. “So they’re performing at the Orb.”

“Uh… yeah, I think so.”

“Are you going to watch it?”

Katsuki felt cornered by that question but didn’t know why.

“Uh— yeah. He invited my sister and me, though I haven’t bought the tickets yet.”

The girl looked at him silently, expectant, almost like she expected him to say more, and his slow brain took a few seconds to catch on.

Oh.

“…Would you… want… to come with us?” he asked then, not very convinced and in a tone that sounded a little forced but that still made the girl happy.

“Of course!” She stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “That would be amazing.”

The acid in his stomach churned like he hadn’t eaten in days.

Suddenly, it started snowing again.

***

By the following Friday, Izuku was pale on his feet.

He felt so much pressure and excitement at the same time that he had easily been vomiting three or four times a day for a week, and had been suffering dizzy spells that almost knocked him flat on the floor.

He had skipped some classes to go to the studio to rehearse as much as he could, until his feet ended up stiff and almost raw from the friction against the ballerinas. He was more exhausted than ever, but damn it, he wasn’t about to give up now.

He had barely seen Kacchan.

He hadn’t had time to stop by his room, and they had barely exchanged a couple of glances in class or in the hallways, and Izuku had to ignore the pull in his chest that made him want to gravitate towards him, but he couldn’t afford distractions so close to the recital.

A hilarious fact, because all he could think about were ruby eyes and the scent of caramelized cinnamon.

His routine had practically been reduced to that. He woke up, went to class, left an hour or two early, went to rehearse, and returned to the dorms past midnight, where he spent at least an hour tossing and turning in bed thinking and thinking about the boy in the room next door.

And he cried.

He cried so much, all the damn time.

He was a mess.

All he wanted was to rest, but at the same time he had such a hunger for success and recognition that it physically caused sharp pain all over his body every time he had to get out of bed to repeat the day again.

On the other hand, there was Haitani.

The man simply didn’t stop.

Although he had been trying to ignore his calls and messages for the last three weeks since the last time they saw each other and things went so wrong, the dark-haired man had been going to the studio every day he knew Izuku had rehearsals—almost the whole week—demanding to see him and almost making scenes outside the building just to get him to agree to talk. It had been like this the first week, until Izuku inevitably had to give in to avoid getting reprimanded, and he ended up agreeing to talk to him.

As always, he had brought flowers and gifts and apologized with the most contrite face Izuku could remember.

Izuku had thought about everything for a few days and had come to the conclusion that things had to end.

However, when he made the slightest suggestion that it was best for both of them to let go, Haitani exploded once again.

“Haitani—do you realize what you did—?” Izuku asked, again locked in the man’s room after agreeing to hold a peaceful conversation in which he had planned to break up and go home, where he would have to keep dealing with the trauma of the person most important to him abusing him without giving much importance to it. “How do you expect me to stay with you after something like that?”

There were tears in his eyes when he looked at him, and he felt his world shatter into a thousand pieces because Haitani’s gaze told him the man didn’t understand the seriousness of his words.

“Abuse?” The dark-haired man asked, pale but not for the right reasons. “What are you talking about, Izuku?” Then he took measured heavy steps toward him, his brow furrowed as if suddenly very angry at the accusation. Izuku froze, the flash of what happened the previous week vivid in his mind. “You’re mine, Izuku, how could I abuse you?”

Something in Izuku’s brain clicked and it was ruthlessly painful.

His eyes darted quickly toward the door, but the other caught his gaze and quickly blocked his way.

The green-haired boy grabbed tightly onto the fabric of his coat, panic rising like foam from his feet to his head, paralyzing him like poison in place.

“You raped me,” he accused, biting his lips, tears unstoppable down his face.

Haitani seemed to get three times angrier at that single statement. The next thing Izuku knew was that the man’s large hands were clamped around his throat, partially blocking air from his lungs while looking at him with those fierce dilated eyes.

“Say that again and I’ll really do it, Izuku.”

When the air returned to his body, he was trembling with terror.

“Remember one thing well,” he told him later that night, standing in the dark putting on his boxers after forcing Izuku to have sex with him. Izuku lay curled up on the bed, silent and still. “If you dare to leave me things will get very ugly.”

Since then, the poor boy had only managed to seek refuge in the only person he thought could give him the comfort he needed.

Katsuki.

Although he had told Ochako and Mina things only partially, he had omitted many—most—things. They had their suspicions, but he again kindly asked them to stay out of his affairs so that Haitani wouldn’t lose patience.

Now, he was beginning to see that Haitani was a dangerous man, powerful, and on top of everything, he had the means to destroy him with a snap of his fingers.

He didn’t even understand what Haitani’s purpose was in continuing with him, if in his eyes and in his own words, Izuku was nothing.

So maybe he had taken advantage of Kacchan’s kindness a little, sneaking into his room, seeking his touch and warmth, and demanding that he take care of him like a lover should. But what else could he do? He felt devastated, alone, deeply hurt and cornered.

However, without thinking too much, he suddenly found himself too absorbed in shy glances and warm caresses beneath sheets that weren’t his own.

Meanwhile, Haitani continued coming to get him after rehearsals, taking him home, and if the mood was tense, maybe they’d argue, he’d get a little violent, then force himself inside him and afterwards leave him in the middle of the street to make his way back to the dorms, not without whispering once more the threat that he had him in the palm of his hand like a rag doll.

The university? He could deny him entrance and the scholarship. A spot in a ballet company? He could ruin his reputation so no one would hire him. The chance to enter another university, another career? He could post his private photos online for the admission committees to see. His mother? He could get her fired. And Katsuki? Haitani had threatened to hurt him if he kept seeing him.

No one would ever accept such a problematic person anywhere.

The idea of simply disappearing seemed so appealing.

How had things gotten so twisted?

And if only…

“I thought you’d never get here, Midoriya!”

The boy burst like a gust of wind through the wooden doors of the dressing rooms behind the stage, carrying multiple bags like a Christmas tree, his hair charmingly messy and speckled with snowflakes as he ran almost crashing into the tall purple-haired woman.

“Sorry! It’s snowing a lot and the subway is delayed,” he excused himself, starting to put the bags on the floor and then removing his scarf. “But I’m here now.”

“I know, I can see you.” She replied sarcastically and immediately grabbed him by the shoulders, leading him to one of the empty vanities. A mirror with bulbs and multiple makeup accessories alongside several costumes hanging in a corner greeted him when she pushed him down to sit on the small white wooden bench. “I need you to start getting ready immediately. We go on in two hours. I’ll take care of everything else.”

Izuku hesitated, looking at her through the mirror.

“Really, Midoriya, get ready. Now.”

He nodded at the stern tone and quickly began taking off his coat and excess clothing. At the vanity next to his, Pony, already dressed in her first costume, smiled at him warmly.

Then Miss Nagant left and left them alone.

“Nervous, friend?” Pony asked, leaning over him with a brush in hand. She looked gorgeous in her jeweled tutu and white tulle.

“A little, yeah,” Izuku answered with his gaze down. “I hope I do well.”

“You will, you’ll be amazing.” She encouraged him.

Izuku really hoped that if he didn’t do amazingly, at least Miss Nagant wouldn’t slit his throat.

He took his costume and went to the bathroom to change, then returned to the vanity to do his makeup as perfectly as he could, though in the end he had to ask Pony for help. He was used to Ochako doing his makeup, so it was a little difficult using both hands to make both sides symmetrical, but in the end, he managed. He didn’t even notice when the two hours left seemed to fly by at the speed of light until suddenly he peeked through the big heavy stage curtain and an impressive crowd returned his gaze.

He felt his chest tighten until it was hard to breathe.

And the rows kept filling one after another.

From above came the soft murmur of the orchestra playing classical pieces to accompany the downtime. Ten minutes until the third call.

He turned around and leaned against the wall, one hand on his heart as he hyperventilated.

His eyes wandered through the wings as thousands of meaningless thoughts slid through his mind. Everyone was running. There were people everywhere, shouts, laughter. Excitement everywhere.

He walked back to his vanity and noticed his phone vibrating on the table.

1 New message from: Kacchan.

He carefully licked his lips so as not to remove the thin layer of lip gloss. Then, with trembling hands, he took the cell phone in his hands and opened the notification. It felt like entire months had passed since the older one had sent him a message, even though it had only been a week since the last time they had exchanged words.

Break a leg.

A bubbling and sincere laugh escaped his mouth as if suddenly all the weight he had been carrying on his back vanished into the air.

“Everyone to your positions! We go on in five!”

The boy silenced his phone and left it on the table. Next to him, Pony gave him a strong, hopeful hug that made his heart jump excitedly against his ribs. Then, each ran toward their starting points and the show began.

***

For Izuku, stepping onto the stage was like flying.

It was like stripping his body and soul bare and throwing himself into the infinity of a sky shining with all shades of blue.

It was warm, and blinding.

Like the spotlights that pointed at his figure and followed him as he executed grand jeté after grand jeté.

He longed to be that bright.

He dreamed of hearing people shout his name, signing autographs, and receiving flowers at the end of each performance.

Dreaming didn’t cost anything, right?

So when he was spinning in the center of the stage and his gaze met Katsuki’s sitting in the third row, next to his mother and all his friends, his heart skipped a beat and a huge smile settled on his face against all odds.

And maybe he allowed himself to think that his problems, after all, did have a solution.

And when the audience gave him a standing ovation, he couldn’t hold back the tears that slid silently and devastatingly down his cheeks flushed from effort.

Everyone leaned forward, and the crowd erupted.

Nothing could defeat him.

Absolutely nothing.

And the curtain fell, and when he ran to the dressing rooms and then out into the theater’s inner hallways, filled with people approaching to congratulate the dancers with flowers and other gifts, he couldn’t help but look for crimson eyes and spiky blonde hair.

It is the best feeling in the world when he finds him and he look back at him through the crowd, a bouquet of white lilies firmly in his hands as they timidly approach him. And Izuku suddenly saw nothing else. He didn’t see his friends running behind, also with flowers and gifts, shouting his name happily. He didn’t see his mother crying with joy further back, surrounded by people.

To his dismay, he didn’t see the man in elegant clothes with the bouquet of red roses coming a bit behind them, his face holding a restrained rage as he strode fast and threatening.

“Kacchan!” The green-haired boy called from a couple of meters away, quickening his pace until he bumped straight into the older one’s chest, who received him with open arms, barely managing to avoid the bouquet of flowers from the impact. And it felt like he could finally breathe.

“Izuku,” the blonde murmured next to his ear, squeezing him, holding him so tight the poor boy felt like he would burst with happiness as he let himself get intoxicated by the scent of his perfume and the soft touch of his straight hair against his cheek, and it was as if the world disappeared for a moment. “You did amazing!”

It was a caress for his broken heart.

Then the taller one moved away slightly to look him in the eyes and wiped away the pitiful tears while he tried by all means to give him a smile, a little broken but shining with happiness, and Katsuki shyly pushed the white bouquet of flowers toward him, soon flooding his senses with scent and sight. They were face to face, so close their noses almost touched, and Izuku couldn’t help but lean toward him looking for something, his feet balancing on his toes to reach him better.

“This—This is for you.” The boy said in a very low voice, as if it were a secret, and his breath warmed his face.

Izuku looked at him, then at the flowers, then at him again.

He took the bouquet in his arms. It was heavy, precious, and had a discreetly hidden card among the petals.

Izuku didn’t know what to say.

But he didn’t have to say anything, because suddenly, chaos happened too fast.

He felt a violent, animal grip grab his arm and then pull him in a jerk that sent him several meters away from the blonde, staggering backward and causing several petals from his bouquet to fly in all directions. His back and the back of his skull hit hard against the concrete of the hallway wall and he could only let out a gasp of pain as his head bounced on the surface.

There were several sounds of surprise, then hands trying to reach him and suddenly, a dull thud accompanied by a sound very much like a bone breaking.

Crack.

And then, screams. Something heavy falling to the ground.

“Get away from him, asshole!”

His head was ringing like a gong, his hands beginning to tremble uncontrollably as he clutched his flowers with all his strength.

Then, another sound. Wet, heavy, followed by many more. He heard people around him talking to him, hands touching and shaking him in all directions but he simply couldn’t process a word nor stop trembling. His brain had entered panic mode and he was terrified to even open his eyes. He brought his hands to his head and let himself fall to the ground while trying to cover himself—from something—clutching his bouquet of lilies in his fist. He wanted to scream, wanted to run away, wanted—panic.

Then, from somewhere distant, his mother’s voice reached him.

“Izuku, Izuku! Let’s go, Izuku, get up please!” And her desperate hands tried to pull him, and in all his daze, he managed to find her small hand and hold on to it. Then she lifted him and he stood on trembling legs and followed her through the crowd, his eyes still closed as he cried and cried and—

In the distance, someone else shouted his name. Then his mother hurried her pace, but it wasn’t enough.

Crack.

“IZUKU!”

Then he opened his eyes, knowing he couldn’t avoid it anymore, and the image that greeted him made him let out a sound of absolute terror.

At high speed, Haitani was running in his direction with his face contorted with fury. The people had moved aside to avoid interfering, so he had the path clear as he ran down the hallway with a bleeding forehead and his suit jacket torn. A gun in his hand.

Behind him, Katsuki ran trying to catch up. He had blood on his lips and fists, and Izuku felt like vomiting. His mother, beside him, pulled him desperately.

“Move, Izuku!”

But he was paralyzed.

Eventually Haitani caught up to him, and Katsuki grabbed his jacket and pulled him back, forcing him to turn, but Haitani took advantage of the movement to punch him in the head with the back of the gun, throwing him straight to the ground.

Then the boy painfully tore him from his mother’s grip and ran with him.

Izuku didn’t know why. Maybe because he was an idiot. But he ran.

The man’s threats repeated like a scratched record in his head as he ran, and with each step, he felt the void swallowing him.

Where was safety? Had anyone called the police?

Where were every—

His blood ran cold.

“H-Haitani, p-please—“

“Shut up, damn it.” The man growled as they went out to the parking lot and he roughly shoved him into the passenger seat. He looked out of his mind, crazy, and Izuku wondered if maybe he had consumed something and doubted his life doubly. Outside, the snow fell in aggressive, icy gusts. “I told you, didn’t I? I told you. I told you not to challenge me with that dipshit, but you had to do it, right? Like always, you can’t keep your legs closed.”

Izuku sobbed, clutching the flowers that by now looked dirty and battered with all his might.

The man looked at them with hatred from his seat behind the wheel and then in a fit snatched them from his hands and threw them out the window.

“Stop crying already, damn it!”

In the distance, Izuku heard the commotion approaching the parking lot. He heard his mother’s desperate voice telling security what had happened, and heard Katsuki’s voice calling his name. They were running toward him, but Haitani had already started the car and was heading to the avenue.

“Please!” The poor boy begged, putting on the seatbelt as best as he could. The man was driving very fast. “I won’t leave you, I promise, just stop this, please, please.” His voice came out choked and so desperate he barely managed to form the words between so much crying.

He just wanted to wake up from that nightmare once and for all.

Haitani pressed the accelerator, and he could hear a car behind them following at high speed. Izuku looked in the rearview mirror with fear choking his throat, only to find the worst sight of all.

Katsuki’s car was maneuvering through the snow to catch up with them.

Izuku let out a terrified sound and began to hyperventilate. Outside, the snow fell so heavily that even Haitani’s truck struggled to move in a straight line at that speed. And it was an all-terrain vehicle. Katsuki’s car wasn’t.

Cold.

Izuku felt so cold.

“That idiot is not going to leave us alone? What, is he going to follow us to my house or what?” Haitani complained beside him as he made an aggressive U-turn and behind him Katsuki did the same.

“The police will find us,” the green-haired boy murmured with a broken voice, holding tightly to his seatbelt now that he no longer had his flowers in his hands. “What you’re doing is not—It’s not right—“

“The police can’t do anything to me, Izuku, don’t be—“

Crack.

The sound was so massive, shocking; so immense that Izuku swore the ground shook beneath his feet.

Ba-dump.

Maybe things would have been different if he had been braver.

Ba-dump.

Perhaps if…

.

.

.

“I need two IV lines and three vials of adrenaline here!”

Red.

Red everywhere.

Red on the asphalt and red all over his body.

Everything was red.

“Kacchan,” the green-haired boy struggled in his mother’s arms, gasping and trying to break free from the police officers who fought to keep him away from the scene unfolding in slow motion before his eyes. “KACCHAN!”

This couldn’t be happening.

No. No no no no no.

Behind him, his friends hugged each other and cried.

Beside him, Himiko had fainted from the shock. They were attending to her. On his other side, a girl with jet-black hair he didn’t know was sobbing uncontrollably.

Katsuki’s parents were on their way.

Around him, the noise was deafening. People crowded around the scene to take photos and videos. They were whispering.

And in the middle of the road, the wrecked car. The trailer that had crashed into Kacchan’s speeding car was stopped as protocol dictated, but the charges would not be against it, since the reckless one had been Katsuki.

Haitani sat outside the scene, seemingly in shock.

“Kacchan!”

“…27, 28, 29, 30!” One of the paramedics counted while giving precise compressions to the blonde’s torn chest, who lay limp in the middle of the street, soaked in blood and bruised all over, cold snow falling on his body. The mere image shattered what little humanity remained in Izuku.

“We’re losing him, prepare a 200-joule shock.”

The woman kneeling on the other side and operating the paddles pressed a couple of buttons and then announced, “Clear.”

The shock made the blonde’s battered body twitch slightly on the ground, and the paramedics immediately resumed the resuscitation efforts.

But Katsuki did not—

Izuku dropped to his knees.

His breathing began to slow, his chest growing heavy, and his head just—

“Boy, come with me”

A woman in the same uniform as those attending to Katsuki approached him with a worried expression. His mother, trying to hold them both up, answered.

“I think he’s having a panic attack,” she said distressed, and then the boy felt himself fall to the ground, and the last thing he saw were his mother’s green, tearful eyes, but as darkness swallowed him, they turned into dull, motionless rubies, looking at him accusingly yet lifelessly.

Chapter Text

So much noise everywhere. From everywhere. Above, below, all around. It came like the sound of war bombs and bone-rattling impacts.

And the cold.

Someone please cover him from the cold.

And what was that strange feeling in his chest?

Like the weight of countless stones pressing down on him, making it hard to breathe.

Anxiety.

“Is he going to be okay?”

“Of course, ma’am, don’t worry.”

“But he’s been like this for at least two hours. Shouldn’t he have woken up by now?”

“His blood sugar levels were very low, ma’am. I’m surprised he even managed to stay conscious that long. The stress finally overtook him, but with the treatment we’re giving and some rest, he’ll wake up in a few moments.”

“O-Okay...”

Memories flooded him.

A stage. Lights shining on his face. Katsuki. Lilies. A gun. Haitani running after him. Katsuki. His mother. A truck. The snow. Katsuki. Red. A deafening noise. The ground shaking beneath his feet. A horn. Katsuki. Katsuki.

“Kacchan.”

The whisper left his mouth like a baby saying their first word, and his eyes blinked open toward the white light overhead, aimed directly at his face. Izuku immediately noticed a horrible taste in his mouth and a sharp pain in his skull that made him hiss softly as he stirred restlessly on what felt like an unreasonably hard bed.

“Izuku,” his mother’s voice reached him through all the noise that still overstimulated his senses. He could hear the worry and deep sadness in her tone, and it only made him thrash harder against the stiff mattress. “Oh, baby, please calm down.”

Izuku gasped, and finally his eyes opened completely.

Familiar green eyes to his left, unfamiliar brown ones to his right.

“Kid, calm down.”

Where was he?

Where was Kacchan?

“Kacchan,” he repeated, this time louder and more demanding, his eyes rolling back as he tried to focus on something, anything. His mother’s gentle hand stroked his cheek and pressed him down against the pillow, and he groaned loudly, unable to break free. He felt weak and heavy, like someone had drugged him. Something clicked in his head, and he immediately sought out his mother’s eyes.

“M-Mom— Kacchan?” His voice sounded foreign and far away to him.

“We’ll have to sedate you again if you can’t calm down on your own,” warned the almond-eyed woman in the blue uniform beside him, and he froze. He looked at her, and in less than a second, he could feel his eyes fill with tears.

“Kacchan,” he said again, like a prayer, the memories of the night crashing into his mind at the same speed as the snow falling outside against the pavement. Screams into the void, tangled emotions, unspoken words and unheard wishes.

Things that had gone wrong.

The woman looked at him, confused.

Suddenly, his mother’s face appeared in his line of sight, and there were so many tears on her cheeks that Izuku wanted to scream.

“Katsuki will be okay, sweetheart,” she said, but there was an undeniable tremor in her voice. Doubt. Fear. “The doctors are treating him.”

There was something wrong in the way she avoided his gaze when she said Katsuki’s name. His heart started pounding so fast he had to breathe quicker just to get enough oxygen. “I want to see him,” he snapped, starting to sit up on the small gurney. His mother pressed a hand to his chest to keep him down, but nothing could stop the adrenaline now surging through his veins. His eyes stung with tears, and a deafening ringing filled his ears, making him dizzy even while sitting up—but none of it mattered. Nothing compared to whatever Kacchan was going through at that moment. He had no right to be lying in a bed while Katsuki was likely in another room, bruised and fighting for his life.

“Where is he?” Izuku shoved his mother aside with little gentleness and climbed down from the bed, his steps clumsy from sedation and shock still messing with his system. He gripped the edge of the bed tightly for a second, and when he felt the woman beside him try to hold him back, he didn’t hold back the force of the shove he gave her. “I said I want to see Kacchan!” His voice broke at the end.

“Izuku, Katsuki can’t— you can’t—”

He started stumbling down the hallway, using the wall for support. Behind him, his mother was doing everything she could to pull him back to the room, and beside her, the other woman—probably a paramedic or nurse—was grabbing at his arm. Izuku shook them both off and, fueled by a surge of adrenaline, burst through the door and down the hallway.

He ran aimlessly for a few seconds, hearing their rushed footsteps behind him, until finally—after a few turns through the corridors—the sight of several of his friends sitting in a waiting room came into view. They were all hunched over, silent, and as he approached with labored breaths and uncertain steps, none of them turned to face the broken shadow trembling toward them.

The soft sound of sobbing reached his ears, and inevitably, tears began to stream down his face—unstoppable and cruel.

Something wasn’t right.

Why did everyone look so heartbroken?

His eyes drifted to the corner of the sofa on the left. His breath caught in his throat for a few seconds as he struggled to hold on to a single coherent thought to anchor him. There was a woman with such a striking resemblance to Katsuki that, had it not been for the visible curve of her chest and the delicate slope of her shoulders, he would’ve sworn it was Katsuki himself sitting there.

She wore a deep frown of intense worry mixed with what Izuku recognized as profound disgust. Her lips were pressed in a line that screamed she wasn’t about to speak to anyone anytime soon. A little farther from her sat a brown-haired man, probably in his forties, clearly older than her, wearing glasses and staring off into space. He looked exhausted and confused. The bloodshot veins in his eyes made it clear he had been crying recently.

And between them—Himiko.

Himiko, sobbing uncontrollably, gasping for breath between cries. Her face was flushed, and her body shook with every wracking sob.

No one seemed to want to look at him. Instead, they all stared fixedly at the floor or the wall. Uncomfortable. Grieving. Lost.

Izuku took a few more steps toward the room, gripping his hands in terror as he desperately sought to meet someone’s eyes. The only person who seemed to notice him from the corner of her eye was Himiko.

And when his watery olive gaze met that ambar so similar to Katsuki’s, he couldn’t stop the sob that ripped from his throat and stole the air from his lungs.

With that sound, everyone finally seemed to snap out of their trance and turned to look at him.
There was surprise in their eyes. Sadness. Pity. Rage.

Himiko stopped crying in an instant. Her cat-like eyes sharpened, suddenly full of open hostility. Rage burned in her pupils and her flushed cheeks. Her fists clenched the fabric of her blue skirt so tightly Izuku feared she might hurt herself. She was trembling, but now for a completely different reason.

The silence grew so loud and heavy it felt like his soul was suffocating.

Himiko shattered him with a single look.

Next to her, the brown-haired man—who Izuku guessed was her father—placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, like someone approaching a wild animal, and whispered something in her ear. But Himiko didn’t seem to care. Then, finally, she broke the silence.

“What are you doing here, Midoriya Izuku?” she asked. Her voice raw and wrecked from crying, cruel and full of hatred—so much hatred that Izuku nearly felt the blow physically, knocking the wind out of him. The blonde hissed through her teeth, and when her father tried to hold her back again, she shook off his hand with restrained fury. “Get out of here.”

Izuku blinked.

The only thing he could manage, dazed and confused—to Himiko’s dismay—was:
“What?”

Then she stood up, her hair loose instead of tied in her usual buns, swaying behind her as she lunged at him, and they both crashed to the hallway floor with a thud and her battle cry.
Pure rage and infinite sadness poured into that sound as she grabbed him by the head and slammed it against the floor.

Izuku didn’t fight back, still too sedated and too shocked to react.

“What the hell are you doing here?!”

Then came a punch from her cold fist, and Izuku felt the searing pain of his nasal bridge shifting to the right and his upper lip splitting.

The blow echoed through his skull, and the deafening ringing returned, nearly muting everything else. All outside sounds felt like they were reaching his ears through thick fabric. Vibrations ran through the floor, mingling with muffled shouting—including Himiko’s—and then he felt several pairs of hands grabbing at him until the weight of the girl on top of him finally vanished.

When he opened his eyes, time slowed again. As it seemed it would keep doing, over and over that night.

The same man from earlier—her father—was holding her around the waist, lifting her off the ground while the blonde kicked furiously at anyone who came close, thrashing to free herself with a fury and strength Izuku had rarely seen in another person.

Her bloodshot eyes were locked only on him, as if afraid he’d disappear if she blinked, and she screamed at the top of her lungs a stream of words that Izuku was honestly grateful not to catch fully in the moment. But his brain still latched onto certain words. Important ones.

Guilt.

Murder.

Whore.

Death.

Little by little, his hearing began to return as someone helped him to his feet.

“This is your fault! All your fucking fault, you fucking slut!”

“Oh my god, Izuku, are you okay? You’re— God, you’re bleeding—”

He recognized Ochako’s anxious voice calling to him from behind, trying to pull him away from the commotion. Security had arrived at the scene, and several nurses were now trying to restrain the blonde, who clearly wasn’t going to stop until her hands were around his throat.

“Come on— Himiko’s just really shaken, she didn’t mean to—”

Izuku simply let her guide him around the corner to a hallway with an emergency exit. He could hear hurried footsteps following behind and wondered if Himiko had managed to break free from her father’s grip and was now coming after him to finish breaking his nose.

“Izuku!”

His mother’s voice called out alongside Mina’s as they ran after them, and then Ochako stopped in her tracks. When he turned as well and faced his mother, a horrified sound escaped the woman’s lips.

“Izuku,” she gasped, hands flying to her mouth in shock as she rushed over to him. “Oh, Izuku, we have to get you back with the nurses.”

“No,” he whispered weakly, tears still falling silently from his eyes as his mother tried to decide whether to wipe away the blood from his nose and lips or the salty water from his cheeks. “I deserve this.”

“Don’t say that, Zuzu,” his mother whispered, pulling him into her arms and gently resting his head on her shoulder with a pained expression. Ochako and Mina watched the scene unfold, pain etched into their faces.

“It’s not true, Izuku,” Ochako began, running a comforting hand along his back. “You didn’t—”

“It’s all Haitani’s fault,” Mina finished for her, through a strangled sob. She leaned her cheek against his shoulder and cried. Beside her, Ochako wrapped her arms around them both, her eyes distant and exhausted. Inko softly stroked the girls’ hair, trying to offer them some comfort.

“I don’t even know where that bastard went. I lost sight of him when we got to the hospital.”
Izuku trembled in the middle of the three women.

“It’s my fault,” he repeated, clinging to his mother like she was the last lifeboat left.

Maybe she was, for him.

But what about Kacchan?

Did Kacchan have a lifeline to hold on to?

There was a question stuck in his throat that he had been avoiding, unsure if he could handle the answer, but somehow he kept running into it face-first, everywhere he went.

Avoiding saying it aloud wouldn’t make it any less real.

“I need… I need to see Kacchan,” the plea escaped him again after several long minutes of silence in which he had tried—and failed—to calm the relentless pounding of his heart. He could feel the three women around him stiffen, and the silence that followed his request made him feel like he was standing at the edge of a cliff.

His throat tightened.

“Mom?”

Slowly, he lifted his head from her shoulder and looked her in the eyes, but his mother avoided his gaze with such visible pain that he felt himself begin to crack. He turned to his friends, and while they did meet his eyes, their silence was so heavy— “Mina? O-Ochako?”

Mina slowly shook her head and then covered her face with her hands to hide her grief. Ochako stepped forward with unsteady but determined steps, like someone who knew they had a bitter duty to fulfill, and gently cupped his face in her hands. She looked deep into his eyes with kindness and something far heavier. She was silent for a few seconds before letting her voice reach him—soft, raw, and bitter.

“Bakugou’s in surgery,” she said, swallowing hard and clenching her jaw. “You can’t— You can’t see him now, Izuku. He’s in critical condition and… we don’t know when he’ll come out—”

The way her voice faded at the end made the unspoken part of her sentence crystal clear.

…or if he will.

Izuku drew in a deep breath to try and calm the deafening thunder in his chest just as she let out a sigh that seemed to deflate her completely.

“How… how critical?” How bad is it?

“It’s bad, Izuku,” Ochako said plainly, resting her forehead against his as he began sobbing again, shaking his head repeatedly like that would undo her words or erase the reality. “The car was totaled.”

Izuku inhaled shakily.

Images flashed through his mind like film reels—Katsuki’s body on the scorched pavement, snow falling, blood spilling.

Suddenly, his knees gave out.

Mina and his mother caught him just in time before they hit the marble floor.

“They need to perform brain surgery to stabilize him. After that comes everything else.” Ochako finished solemnly, her eyes honest but brimming with tears.

“B-Brain…” The color drained from Izuku’s face, too stunned to fully process what she had said.

Suddenly, his world began to spin like a never-ending spiral of misfortune.

How had he let things get this far?

Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea culpa.

If he hadn’t gotten too close to Katsuki—if he hadn’t tempted Haitani’s rage—then the man wouldn’t have lost control in a psychotic fit of jealousy. He had been selfish, foolish, naive. What world did he think he lived in?

There were no happy endings for people like him.

His place had always been to stay quiet and accept his fate as Haitani’s doll—just bowing his head and doing what he was told by him or his family. He supposed it would’ve ended someday, when Haitani grew bored of him or found a new toy, but he had never imagined the man would go this far over jealousy.

Even though he had always known Haitani was unstable.

And still, he had taken one step closer to Katsuki. And another. And another.

He had been the one to push him to where he was now.

On an operating table with broken bones.

Himiko had been right.

But when had anything ever gone the way he wanted it to?

He had nothing to offer God in exchange for Katsuki’s life. He was just a pitiful wretch.

You’re nothing without me. I built you and I can destroy you whenever I want.

There was no point in raising his voice anymore, not when the only thing that truly mattered—and he saw it clearly now—was clinging to life or death somewhere in those operating rooms. He wanted to scream. To punch something. To vomit and crawl along the sidewalk until someone took pity on his pain and woke him up from this nightmare.

The only person who had ever truly cared about him was in this state because of him.

He had been so blind.

He didn’t deserve anything. When Katsuki open his eyes—if—he wouldn’t deserve the warmth of his gaze again, nor the gentle touch of his hands comforting him through the nightmares. There was a huge difference between what could’ve been and what would never be, and the turning point was so clear now that he knew their before and after would never overlap again.

Heavy, thunderous footsteps echoed behind him, coming straight his way, and Izuku wanted to curl up in a corner of the room because he honestly couldn’t handle another confrontation. He glanced at his watch and, unsurprised but utterly defeated, saw it was past three in the morning.

Behind him, he felt his friend step protectively between him and whoever was approaching.

“If you’re here to yell at Izuku, I’ll kindly ask you to leave,” the pink-haired girl warned with the fierceness she was known for, while Izuku hurried to wipe his face with the sleeves of his coat before turning around.

Familiar ruby eyes locked straight onto him, completely ignoring his friend, staring him down from several feet away.

The silence was so unbearable that Izuku felt his heart leap into his throat within seconds.

“Mina—” he began, but the woman across from him cut him off with a voice that was sharp and commanding.

“I’d like to speak with you, Izuku.” She made it sound like a request, but her tone carried the weight of a command. Her gaze slowly swept over each of his friends and even his mother. “Alone.”

This time, it was his mother who stepped in front of him. Her usual bright and soft aura turned heavy and unyielding as the other woman’s words reached her ears.

“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” Inko said, her usually sweet voice steely and unshakable. There was compassion in her tone, but no room for negotiation. “Izuku is still a minor.”

The other woman’s face remained unreadable.

A long silence followed—and then it was as if the first plate shattered between them.

“My son is between life and death because he tried to save you from your abusive boyfriend. I think I deserve the chance to speak with you.”

She had addressed him directly, completely ignoring his mother. Izuku stiffened behind Inko’s small frame, gasping like a fish out of water, because he knew she was right—and she had every right to ask for at least that.

His mother stepped in again.

“N-No.”

The woman blinked like waking from a trance.

“Very well. If you want to hear what I have to say to your son, be my guest. But I don’t think you’ll be pleased with it.” She turned on her heel and walked past them, disappearing down the hallway toward the nearest waiting room.

Izuku and Inko were left frozen, too nervous to move and too shocked as they tried to process the words of the elegant, commanding woman who had just walked into their lives and lit the stove without warning.

This was going to happen anyway, Izuku told himself, overwhelmed. The woman’s words playing over and over like a mantra in his head.

My son is between life and death because he tried to save you from your abusive boyfriend.

“Let me go, Mom.” The boy murmured after a long, silent minute in which he took the time to carefully think through everything that might surface in that conversation. Izuku didn’t know what Katsuki’s mother knew about him. About them. He didn’t know if Katsuki had ever told her anything about what had happened between them, or if he’d even mentioned his relationship with Haitani, or his ups and downs with his mental health. Or anything else, really. There were things at stake he couldn’t allow to reach her ears, no matter how fucked up everything already was. He wasn’t ready to face this and something else on top of it, and in the end, he was more than aware that the very least he deserved were a couple of good screams from Mrs. Bakugou.

If he’d taken Himiko’s punch without flinching, he could handle this too.

What he probably wouldn’t be able to take was the look of disappointment on Katsuki’s face when he woke up.

But he’d worry about that later. First, he had to make sure the boy —God, please— woke up.

“No, Izuku, that whole family is furious with you right now and you don’t know what— you just saw that girl, Izuku—”

He interrupted her with the calmest and softest tone he could manage, trying to soothe her with a serenity he didn’t really feel himself.

“I’ll be fine, Mom. Mrs. Bakugou seems very in control of her emotions, I don’t... I really don’t think anything like what happened with Himiko will happen.”

“How do you know that, Izuku? Do you know her?”

Her mother looked at him with raw concern in her green eyes —so much like his own— and squeezed his hand, hoping it would make him change his mind.

Izuku thought for a moment before replying.

“No,” he said, head down as he wiped away a stubborn tear, “but I see kindness in her eyes. Just like in Kacchan’s.”

His mother stared at him for long seconds, her expression still unconvinced, but when she realized he wouldn’t back down, she let go of his hand and left a warm caress on his cheek as a sign of emotional support. Izuku nodded and gave one last look to the three women before walking to the end of the hallway and turning toward the waiting room, where the blonde woman awaited him.

There was a chaotic yet calm air around her that made Izuku feel an odd sense of peace in his chest when he sat beside her.

Neither of them spoke for several minutes.

The boy wrung his hands in his lap while waiting for her to speak, but it took her five long and painful minutes of staring at the wall before she finally said something. The usual hospital noise surrounded them, but to Izuku it sounded so distant he could barely hear it.

“What is your relationship with my son?”

That was the first knife in the wound, and he swallowed hard, because no matter how many times he’d told himself he could handle this, actually living through it was a different thing entirely. Katsuki’s mother’s voice was broken, maybe from holding back tears or from having been silent for too long, and there was an indecipherable tone in it that made him nervous to the point his breath started to quicken. He blinked compulsively and ran a hand through his hair while he searched for the right words to answer, because the tone, the question itself —the woman herself— made one thing very clear: There was a right and a wrong answer to that question.

“We were—” he suddenly wanted to slam his head against the wall for referring to Kacchan in past tense, “We’re classmates.”

Mrs. Bakugou let out a sound that was very close to a sardonic laugh and brought two fingers to the bridge of her nose in growing frustration.

“Now is not the time to start lying, son.”

Izuku stiffened in his seat.

“Ma’am, I—”

“My son wouldn’t have risked his life for just a classmate,” she cut him off sharply, with something Izuku recognized as barely restrained anger. “He’s not like that. And don’t come here now telling me you know him better than I do.” There was a roughness and urgency in her voice now.

Izuku cleared his throat, unsure of what to say next. She continued instead.

“Listen. I don’t care if you were sleeping with my son or sort of. You’re young and free. And I don’t blame you for what happened to Katsuki,” she added between sighs, running a small, slender hand —wearing what Izuku assumed was her wedding ring— through her short, disheveled hair, a gesture she had probably repeated countless times since arriving at the hospital that night. Likely since she’d received the grim call informing her that her son was gravely injured. It was only then that Izuku noticed the crushed and wrinkled cigarette between her fingers. “Katsuki is old enough to make his own decisions and understand the consequences of his actions.” She paused to stare at the marble floor with the most hollow yet simultaneously heavy look Izuku had ever seen. Then she added: “So if this is anyone’s fault, it’s his alone.”

Izuku froze in place.

“All I want to know is what you had to do with my son,” she repeated in a whisper, glancing sideways at him. “Because whatever was going on between you two ends now.”

Her fingers closed around the cigarette and crushed it like air. Izuku felt as though it wasn’t the cigarette she was crushing —it was his bruised and battered heart.

It was a threat.

No, not anymore.

It was a warning.

“My son is adult enough to make his own decisions and do what he thinks is best for him,” she continued, now with a softer tone, as if now that the truth behind her facade had been spoken —now that Izuku would inevitably be out of the picture— she could finally breathe again. “But I’m still his mother, and if I have to protect him from danger, I’ll do it as many times as necessary. My duty as a mother is to keep threats away and preserve his life.” Then she lifted her face and looked him straight in the eyes, and Izuku could see not just the pain, but the uncertainty painted there with such clarity that despite her words cutting him, he understood perfectly: “And you are a threat.”

So he accepted it immediately.

“I wish things had been different,” Mrs. Bakugou placed a warm hand over his, trembling in his lap. “You seem like a good kid who just ran into the wrong people and made some bad choices.” Then she stood and smoothed out the sleeves of the long sleeve shirt she was wearing. She disposed of the crumpled cigarette in the trash can next to the bench. She didn’t look at him again. “But I don’t want you anywhere near my son again. Understood?”

Izuku swallowed and exhaled all the air he’d been holding in a silent sigh that felt like it drained the life from him.

Still, he nodded.

A second later, realizing the woman wasn’t looking at him and remained silent, waiting for his reply, he forced himself to murmur:

“I understand, Mrs. Bakugou.”

She nodded in his direction, and without even a goodbye, she left.

Izuku was left with nothing but to sit there, his heart raw, tears burning in his face.

***

Time folded in on itself. Like his bones breaking through his skin to be exposed to the cold of the night.

It was a never-ending loop that would never stop, no matter how hard he raised his prayers.

A crack echoing in his eardrums—and then, nothing.

Spinning and spinning and spinning and spinning.

So much chaos and so much peace at the same time that he felt lost between the plane of his existence, which at that moment was, and the other that ceased to be.

He was so cold.

As if submerged in the depths of the sea, his movements were slow and clumsy. Or maybe he wasn’t moving at all. And there was an anguish in his chest that made him want to scream, like a silent echo inside his ribcage. Except no one seemed to hear him.

Flashes of an old blue sky flooded his mind like photographs seen through a scratched and cloudy lens.

"Do you like it, Mom?"
"It’s beautiful, Katsuki."

"Do you like it, Katsuki?"
"I-It hurts..."

Green like the plants around him. Green like Froppy, his pet frog. Green like his sunhat when he went to the beach with his parents and Himiko. Green like… there was something he was forgetting.

Something he forgot in all that green surrounding him in that endless moment of silence in the preschool greenhouse under the midmorning sun, with the sunflowers turning their backs on him, as if they were ashamed of him.

As if they pitied him.

And he could feel the ants from the ground crawling up his skin, climbing like Lilliputians on Gulliver, tickling him just enough to half-forget what was happening around him—what was happening to him—and he focused instead on watching the bees land on the colorful, vibrant flowers, and on trying to reach the sun through the garden dome.

There was so much he wanted to say, and so little voice to do it.

Suddenly, an explosion of color in front of his eyes made him hold his breath. He blinked, but the sun was no longer above him. That person was no longer above him either. The starry sky stared back at him, as deep and vast as the emptiness devouring him from within.

And yet, it was beautiful.

Then a cry so familiar that, unconsciously, a smile formed on his face when he looked down.
Amber eyes and a head full of blond hair met his gaze with the fiercest and most demanding expression he had ever seen in his life.

"This is Himiko, Katsuki. She’s your baby sister."

He didn’t know how or why, but something immense and warm bloomed in his chest like fireworks, making him feel as happy as when Santa Claus came to visit.

"Miko?"

The baby responded with a deafening cry while squeezing his finger so hard that Katsuki, amused, thought she might actually break the bone. His parents' laughter filled the hospital room.

But the memory blurred before his eyes like the still reflection of water disturbed by movement.

A flame burning in the dark. A muted chorus through the deafening silence in the vast space of memories.

He stepped forward, and then another, and another, and one more. Until the light from the flame became so overwhelming that it illuminated everything around him, and he could finally see the full image through that same old, cracked glass he assumed was the showcase of his memories.

"Happy birthday, Katsuki!" his whole family shouted in unison around the dining table in their Musutafu home—a round mahogany table for four, stained with acrylic paint from all the afternoons he and Himiko had spent painting and doing homework there.

A cake with white and orange frosting sat in the center of the table, with a pair of lit candles shaped like the number 8. And written in messy orange letters on the frosting—clearly from his little sister’s hand—were the words: "Happy birthday Kats. We love you."

"Now you have to make a wish!" Himiko exclaimed beside him, on tiptoes to see over the table’s edge, flashing a gap-toothed smile. "Make a cool wish, brother!"

Katsuki couldn’t remember what wish he had made then.

But when he blew out the candle, it had felt like he was blowing away the last bit of hope left in him.

The colors swirled again before the void pulled him back into the vortex that was his mind once more.

Then he saw himself standing in the middle of the snow.

The cold he’d felt before was nothing compared to the paralyzing and brutal cold that now wrapped around him like the grip of snakes thirsty for his blood.

His blood, which had begun to stain the snow at his feet crimson, and kept pouring out without stopping.

And in front of him, chaos.

He could see it clearly, could feel the hammer pounding against his skull. The car wrecked on the pavement and the deafening noise suddenly surrounding the scene.

But there was something in his chest that pulled him irresistibly toward it. He felt it burning deep in his gut like an urgent need—the need to reach something—someone—with his last breath.

But when he took the first step, and then the next, through snow that reached up to his calves, no one seemed to notice him among the crowd.

In the chaos, men in blue uniforms stained with blood—whose blood was that?—worked frantically to pull something—someone—out.

Why was everyone crying so bitterly?

Soon enough the answer came to his eyes, in the form of his battered and broken body being dragged from the smoking car to the snow-covered pavement.

What had happened? That wasn’t him. Couldn’t they see him standing right there?

Desperate, pleading eyes searched for someone who might recognize him, but the only thing that met his gaze was raw, infinite pain.

Cold.

As if he were in the darkest depths of the ocean, numbed by the sirens’ song and bound to the bottom by the anchor of his fate.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t reach the surface.

Not now. Maybe never.

"Starting CPR."

Help.

Someone help me.

"Kacchan!"

Green.

Then he remembered.

Springy curls and soft cheeks. Freckles like stars.

Where was Izuku?

When his eyes found him, hyperventilating and on his knees on the ground, a feeling of guilt and remorse consumed him from within and spread outward, painting the whole scene in black and white.

He hadn’t made it to him.

He probably never would.

Like parallel lines, maybe they were never meant to meet.

Had they defied God? Was Haitani the embodiment of God’s wrath?

"He’s unresponsive! I need an epinephrine shot!"

Was this how his life was going to end?

With tired eyes, he carefully took in everything happening around him, all at once.

He didn’t want to think anymore.

He walked through people, through twisted metal and hot smoke. Passed through solid matter in his path like a wandering soul searching for its body lost forever, and when he was finally able to see himself up close, he tucked that image away in his memory, hoping it would replace the photo of the blue sky and the greenhouse.

He lay down on the cold pavement beside himself and, curling into a ball, closed his eyes, waiting to fade like stardust into nothingness.

***

When the name flashed on Izuku’s phone screen, he had to resist the urge to smash the device against the wall.

It was exactly six in the morning on December 25th, and Katsuki was still in surgery. Himiko had been sedated a few hours earlier, and Izuku was forced to stay isolated in the lounge on the other wing of the hospital with his mother, since Mina and Ochako were with Kirishima and Himiko, respectively. They were welcome among the Bakugou family during this long ordeal as they all waited together for news on the blond, while Izuku got up to ask the nurse on duty for updates every hour. If there was anything new, Mina or Ochako would text him.

He was exhausted, and his mother didn’t look much better. Still, he couldn’t even begin to imagine the hell the Bakugous were going through. He told himself he would stay there at least until Kacchan got out of surgery and was stable; after that, maybe he’d go shower and change—he was wearing an oversized set of clothes the hospital had lent him after he fainted in the street. Thankfully, the paramedic and his mother had managed to remove the elaborate Nutcracker costume he had been abducted in by Haitani right after the play ended.

So when his name blinked on the screen, Izuku had to stand up and rush down the halls until he found an exit that led to the emergency stairs.

He pressed the green button with restrained fury and brought the phone to his ear.

Outside the window, snow was falling in what looked like a storm that was far from end.

“Izu,” Haitani began, voice unsteady—and Izuku exploded the second that sound reached the corners of his brain where all his hatred and darkest thoughts resided.

“Don’t ‘Izu’ me, you useless piece of shit,” he hissed, feeling his eyes water yet again for the thousandth time, and even though his words were sharp and cruel, his voice broke and made his fury burn even hotter. “Don’t ever say my name again in your miserable life.”

“Izuk—”

“I said never!” he screamed into the line, the veins in his neck and face standing out from how tightly his jaw was clenched. “How dare you call after what you did? Where the hell are you? Do you even know what you’ve caused?” But Izuku knew there was no point in asking—Haitani had never understood the weight of anything. He remained quiet, sniffling on the other end, waiting for a response that took several seconds to come.

“Calm down, Izuku.” But even though rage was still burning through his veins, Izuku forced himself to stay silent, to listen. His free hand clenched the zipper of his coat, squeezing so tightly he felt the metal dig painfully into his skin. “I never meant for this to happen... Look, I know this is all fucked up, but this wasn’t how it was supposed to go.” A frustrated sound came from Haitani’s throat, followed by the muffled rustling of fabric, then a sigh. “That idiot shouldn’t have followed us. If anyone’s to blame for what happened to him—”

“Don’t you dare,” Izuku cut in through gritted teeth. “Is this why you called? To clear your conscience with a half-assed speech?”

“Shut up, Izuku,” his voice came through loud and commanding, and Izuku couldn’t stop the chill of terror that ran down his spine, even though the man wasn’t physically there. Against his will, his body obeyed. Silence. “I’m not going to let you pin the responsibility of something you caused on me.”

Izuku pressed his lips together in a tight line, trembling—he didn’t even know whether it was from rage or the endless tears he kept trying to hold back. No matter how much he cried, they just wouldn’t stop.

“I hope this taught you a lesson, Izuku.”

A lesson?

“What the hell are you tal—”

“Now I realize I did all this for nothing,” Haitani continued, his voice now laced with pure venom—rage, jealousy, and a searing pain that almost made Izuku falter and feel pity. But the blurred memory of Katsuki getting chest compressions to keep him alive filled him with fury again. “I did all of this for a love that wasn’t worth it.”

Izuku’s heart skipped a beat.

Haitani let out a bitter, broken laugh before correcting himself. “Correction. My love was worth it. You’re the one who wasn’t.”

“You’re insane—”

“No, Izuku, you’re insane,” Haitani snapped, shouting straight into the mic so loudly Izuku had to pull the phone away from his ear. “In case you haven’t figured it out, I’m dumping you. I don’t like old, used-up toys, so go ahead—take care of your brain-damaged boyfriend or cry at his funeral, whichever comes first.”

Izuku wanted to scream. He wanted to beat him into a bloody, shapeless pulp at his feet. He wished it had been him on that table instead of Katsuki, bleeding out and being stitched back together—and that thought hit him so hard, it knocked the words out of his mouth again.

He realized, horrified, that if things were reversed, his anguish wouldn't even come close to what he was feeling now. The wave of nausea that followed made his whole body tense.

“I’d advise you not to give in too much to your grief, Izuku. You’ll be hearing from me again… real soon. Goodbye.” And with those final words, both the call and Izuku’s soul were left hanging.

He stared at the phone screen like it was some live explosive about to go off in his hand. In his mind, a clock had started ticking, its hands loudly clanging forward.

A minute later, a notification popped up—an encrypted message from an unknown number. Just one jpg file.

He hesitated before tapping on it, the chat window opening instantly. His breath came out in violent bursts as he tried to steady his shaking hands.

Then the photo loaded full screen.

His own green eyes stared back at him, frozen in a moment where he clearly hadn’t been thinking straight.

In his left hand was Haitani’s exposed erection, and in front of his pelvis, Izuku had his tongue out in an overtly suggestive way, leaving no doubt about what was coming next. No caption was needed to understand.

He shut his eyes and locked the device, stuffing it deep into his coat pocket. A heavy, frustrated sigh left his lungs as he leaned his forehead against the window and let it knock hardly against the glass.

“Shit.”

Suddenly everything felt so utterly fucked that he seriously doubted he’d ever find a way out.

He took a moment to steady his breathing and stop crying—he had to stop crying and start figuring things out—and then returned upstairs to his mother, who was wringing her hands in her lap, torn between sitting still or pacing in the waiting room. The anxiety that had followed him since the night before surged again when he saw the deeply worried look she gave him as he approached.

“Mom? What’s wrong?”

She pressed her trembling lips together but couldn’t stop the sob that escaped.

“Izuku—”
The boy looked past her into the hallway. Ochako was running toward them, panting, her cheeks flushed with exertion. She wore the same expression of deep suffering as his mother, though he noticed a faint, relieved smile in the way the corners of her eyes creased.

“Izuku!”

Even though his legs nearly gave out, he forced himself to stand. He looked between the two women, so confused it made his head spin.

“Everything’s okay now, Izuku!” Ochako said as she neared them, and Izuku felt color return to his face and blood pump through his veins again.

He looked to his mother for clarity. He was overjoyed by Ochako’s words, but still couldn’t quite process it.

The girl stepped in before his mom could respond, who now seemed to be catching her breath—but for a different reason.

“Bakugou went into cardiac arrest again,” Ochako said, and he felt himself freeze. “But they brought him back. He’s intubated, and they’re prepping a room for him now.”

His heart pounded like a hammer in his chest.

“So... so the surgery’s over? Is he okay? I mean, despite all that—”

His friend nodded vigorously. “They stopped the bleeding and managed to limit the brain damage. Now we just have to wait for him to wake up from the coma.”

Coma.

Izuku trembled from head to toe.

“C-coma?”

Ochako’s gaze softened. “Yeah, Izuku. Even though they were able to stop the damage, it was deep, and they don’t know how long it’ll take his body to recover.”

But that was good, right?

Kacchan was alive.

Maybe he wasn’t awake right now, but he would wake up one day and—

One day.

“I need to get back to Himiko,” the brunette said, giving his hand one last squeeze. “I’ll keep you updated, okay? Mina too. We’re all still here. We’re here for Bakugou—and for you. Mina and Kirishima will be here soon.”

Izuku nodded, head down. His mind was a mess of tangled thoughts, too many to focus on what she was saying. Then she left.

“Izuk—”

“I need the bathroom,” he said quietly to his mother, then walked away with slow, heavy steps down the corridor toward the men’s restroom. The noise around him somehow making everything feel both more silent and more unbearable.

Once inside, he entered a stall and dropped to his knees, finally letting all his pain and grief spill into the toilet bowl.

Chapter Text

“He’s a bit acidotic.”

“Can we try an electrolyte correction?”

Echoes seeped into his ears and stirred his mind inside the deep darkness where he had been trapped. He couldn’t remember anything. Absolutely nothing, except for vague, blurred fragments of scattered events.

A heavy stupor clung to his head, refusing to let him wake, as if he were running uselessly against a wall that could never be broken.

Thick, heavy, desolating.

“Increase the midazolam to two.”

What?

“I think we should consider waking him…”

“I don’t know, his brain is still somewhat swollen, and the hemorrhage hasn’t completely subsided.”

“According to the CT, the bleeding has already stopped, it’s just—”

“All right, don’t increase the midazolam.”

What was all that noise around him?

And those voices?

Where was Himiko?

“I think it’s time for the family to come in,” said the firm, decisive voice of a man. In his unconsciousness, Katsuki knew that had to be the one in charge. “It’s already been a week.”

A tense, heavy silence followed.

“I’ll give authorization.”

“All right, everything’s ready. I’ll lower the sedation and check on him again in ten minutes.”

Then came the sound of a door opening, closing, and once more, silence.

One single sentence stuck in his head, making him feel as though he were spinning endlessly inside a vortex: a week.

A wave of terror spread like water through every part of his body—except his body was nothing but smoke, his soul unbound—and in reality, his lips parted to gasp for cold air, scented with chlorine and something else that slid down his throat, making him feel alive for a fleeting second.

Where am I?

What day is it?

Am I alive?

He had to be alive. Or at least, that was what he thought, clinging to a hope so great that he wished the thought alone could make it real and not just some fantasy conjured by his mind in limbo.

Then images slammed into his head. Painful memories of what felt like a life he had already left behind.

The pain.

That built and built and built—until each breath burned hotter and harsher, as though he were trapped underwater so hot it seared his lungs. It felt strange, soothing almost, yet at the same time unbearably difficult, impossible to surrender to any single sensation.

He inhaled, and this time the air that passed through his mouth was warmer, gentler, as if taking its time to slide across his tongue, down his raw throat, and into his withered alveoli.

Air, at last air, and—light spilling softly through the narrow slit he managed to force open in his desperate attempt to see, to look, to awaken and—there, the door.

“Oh, that was rather quick.”

Where was that voice coming from?

“—Wait, I need to remove the tube before you wake completely.”

The next thing he felt was his arms being pinned to a surface, and then chaos descended in the form of dry, raw agony.

As if a sword of molten steel pierced his throat, shredding the soft tissues of his pharynx until they bled harshly and abundantly.

Then, the black sensation of emptiness—strangely flooding not only his throat, but his chest and stomach as well—like a rag doll gutted of its heart.

So he breathed. Deep, ragged, searing breaths, the sound roaring in his ears as though wind howled all around him. Except, though it was cold, he could not feel the caress of air brushing against his half-naked skin.

“Hey, Bakugou-san? Can you hear me?”

A blink. Then another, and another, and the light blurred his mind.

“Bakugou-san? Can you hear me?”

What was he supposed to answer to that? Could he even answer? The heaviness in his brain and limbs bound him, limiting every motion. He jerked against what he assumed was a hard gurney, and it felt like his whole body convulsed.

“Bakugou? I need you to breathe,” a woman’s voice reached his ears clearer this time, urgent and stern. Small, soft hands cupped his nape and back, almost like an unexpected embrace. “Breathe, Bakugou.”

So he breathed.

“That’s it, slowly, once more… yes, through your nose.”

It burned.

It burned everywhere.

Something cold and soft pressed against his face, and then a rush of air struck with such force it forced his nostrils and mouth open. It surged inside, filling him with oxygen, only to leave again transformed into something else. And again. And again. And again.

“He’s tolerating. You can start withdrawing the vecuronium.”

At once, a spasm wracked him, trembling again against the surface. This time, he became more aware of its hardness beneath his languid body as he shook, the pain so sharp a groan of agony escaped his lips.

“Ventilate, one and two,” the woman at his side (she sounded so close) ordered, and another gust of air forced its way into him. “Again, one and two.”

It was like crawling back from the underworld into the realm of the living. At least five minutes passed with his body being prodded, handled, measured, restrained—until at last, his labored breathing steadied, normalizing beneath the glare of a mercilessly bright light.

“Bakugou-san?”

The boy blinked.

“Bakugou? Can you hear me?”

The blond gave a heavy nod.

“Good. You’re waking up. You’ve been unconscious for seven days,” the woman told him as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world, almost as though she expected him to hear it daily. “I need you to breathe and focus on your surroundings.”

For Katsuki, it was an order. So he did what little he could, forcing his eyes to fix on a blind spot and drawing breath despite the pain. His gaze locked onto a round, pale, expressionless face hovering above him as he gasped for oxygen. Then that face spoke.

“Welcome, boy.”

Welcome.

Where exactly was he arriving?

The sensation of his body thawing, like dry branches passing from winter into spring, hit him with such brutality that shivers raced down his spine.

“Himi… Himiko…” His voice sounded distorted, like a telephone through static. He couldn’t tell if it was truly him speaking, or some impostor.

The woman (he was almost sure now she was a doctor, his doctor) smiled down at him within his field of vision, the warmth of her hand patting his numb shoulder, “Your sister will be here soon, Bakugou-san.” Something or someone raised the head of his bed. “I’m very glad to see you’ve awakened in such good spirits.” He wasn’t so sure about that.

His eyes drifted toward the door of what he assumed was his room (a hospital?). Emerald green numbers painted below the window slot pulled forth the memory of something he had thought long gone.

Kacchan!

This is for you.

What was that?

“Hey, easy there, champ. You’ll feel much better in a few minutes,” the doctor told him with a soft laugh, and he couldn’t fathom what she found so amusing, nor why she tried so hard to keep him pinned to a bed that offered no answers. Maybe he was too stubborn, but there was nothing he wanted more than to clear the fog from his mind and look into the eyes of someone who could explain what was happening—and she didn’t seem to be that person. “But you need to stay in bed for a few hours. Your family will be here to see you very soon.”

Your family.

“W… water…”

“Right away, Bakugou-san.” As the minutes passed, the light grew clearer and shapes sharper in the bouquet of things he knew. At least three people. Perhaps two nurses—judging by the caps atop their heads; unfamiliar machines at his bedside; a thin, cold blanket draped over his limbs; a dormant TV hanging in one corner; and a large window to his right where the gray of an overcast sky spilled through.

One of the nurses brought him a bottle of water with such care he almost felt like a small child. “Here, Bakugou-san. Please let me know if you have trouble drinking.”

But when the liquid’s moisture touched his dry, aching lips, it was as if a shot of adrenaline had been injected straight into his veins.

Izuku?

He drank like a man lost in the desert, and the sweet sensation of water on his tongue reminded him of the taste of lips—just as sweet, just as kind—that had once pressed against his own.

Like the kiss of a charming prince.

Except this time, it was only water moistening his throat.

Tears welled in his eyes, spilling into the dry reality that awaited him.

“B-Bakugou-san, please don’t cry, everything is all right.”

Nothing.

Nothing was left to him but nothingness.

“Your family will come in shortly.” The sound of the door echoed through the room once more, and the best he could do was focus on drinking from that bottle as though there were no tomorrow.

When the vital liquid was gone, his eyes met once again the kind face of someone intent on caring for him. Then the door, and a shift in the air and its scent.

The perfume of his mother reached his senses, faint, barely perceptible—yet unmistakable to his dulled nose—and he gasped once more as his trembling hands reached out for something, anything, to hold onto.

His father and sister must have noticed, because the next thing he felt was the warmth of their presence enveloping his hands with such delicacy, and at the same time with such infinite love, that his chest began to stir.

“Brother,” Himiko’s hoarse voice reached him through the fog, and his eyes turned toward her—her hair disheveled, as blond as ever, tangled like a bird’s nest atop her crown. Dark circles hollowed her face, an appearance so unlike her that it took Katsuki a second to recognize her.

On the other side, his father wiped his tears with a gesture meant to be manly, but which betrayed a grief impossible to hide. Beside him, his mother looked at him sternly, deeply, arms crossed, and the boy curled in on himself, as if he could hear her scolding through the deafening silence of the room.

You’re reckless when you set your mind to it, and that is something that will bring you great trouble.

He blinked again.

“Mom?”

Then his mother, with all her somber, imposing presence, looked at him as if he were an insect floating in her soup.

Yet her eyes were so wet that the room’s overhead light reflected in them like diamonds.

“You’re an idiot,” she said with restrained voice, giving him a smile as broken and weary as he himself felt.

“Mom!” Himiko protested at his side, casting her mother a glance before turning back to her battered brother. “Be a little kinder to Katsuki—”

His mother took two steps toward the bed and flicked his forehead, making his fragile rhythm of breathing falter, as though someone had pumped a sickening rush of air into his lungs. It was like being jolted back to life in an instant. “Why would I be kind to an idiot who nearly killed himself over a pretty face?”

Katsuki hadn’t thought he still had enough blood in his body to blush. What on earth was his mother talking about? Because suddenly, she looked furious.

Truly furious.

“Do you think life is a game, Katsuki?”

His father tensed on the other side, giving his hand a squeeze that seemed like emotional support, but then immediately released him, leaving room for his mother to take her place.

“M-M-Mom—”

A dry, cruel sting lashed his cheek, like the gust of a tornado. Except it wasn’t wind—it was his mother’s palm.

Izuku?

“What the hell is wrong with you, you ungrateful brat?!”

“Mom—”

“Mitsuki!”

“Do you think it’s funny, this show you’re making us go through?! Who even is that useless brat?! Stop being so careless with your life once and for all!”

Silence reigned in the room again, except for the muffled sound of his mother’s sobs as she collapsed against his chest, surrendering to her pain. A pain so imminent, so overwhelming, that he couldn’t grasp it for lack of experience.

He let her cry it out for what felt like hours, while his own tears streaked down his cheeks and his throat tightened as if he were swallowing burning stones. Maybe it was the leftover sensation of the tube, but he felt dead while alive.

Perhaps it was all a dream. Maybe he really had died.

His lips moved with such difficulty he had to take a deep breath first.

“I-I’m… sorry… m-mom…”

His mother lifted her face to look at him. This time, there was no reproach, no fury—only the exhaustion and terrifying fear of someone who had believed they had lost everything.

“You have no idea how happy you make us just by being alive.”

Then it was his sister’s turn to break down, sobbing louder, freer, against his chest.

“Don’t you ever scare us like that again, idiot Kats!”

In his mind, hundreds of memories churned like a cocktail of jumbled images.

Now… now.

There had been an accident. He had been in a car, and the sensation of chasing something unattainable had struck him so abruptly it was like his heart had been crushed in a mortal grip.

What—or who—was Izuku? Why did that name keep repeating in his mind like a prayer?

“Mom… you… I-I… Izuku…?” His sister’s grip and his parents’ gaze seemed to tense all at once. It was his mother, as always, who spoke to his question.

“I don’t know, Katsuki. I don’t know who that person are. Do you want to tell me?”

But he hadn’t the faintest idea.

He blinked, the sensation of forgetting something crucial gnawing at him, but he couldn’t reach it through the heavy haze of memory. He pressed a hand to his forehead, unknowingly weighed down by the anguish lodged in his chest, nameless and raw.

“I don’t know,” he finally said, his gaze drifting to the wall ahead. “I don’t know why I remember that word.”

He didn’t see the complicit, yet ashamed looks his family exchanged.

“It’s nothing. Probably something you heard on television before the accident.”

Of course. The accident. Right.

“What happened?” His voice was muffled and low with fear, but he forced himself to meet his family’s eyes, one by one. If they were his family, he had to trust them.

“You were in a car accident,” his mother explained. “A larger vehicle struck yours, and you were unconscious for a week. The doctors did the best they could for you.”

That sounded good. It was good. He was alive, after all, wasn’t he?

But why didn’t “the best they could” sound exactly right?

“Am I disabled?” The thought had come so suddenly to his mind that it slipped out before he could stop it. He was surprised at how easily the words left him, but he hadn’t been able to do anything to prevent it. He hadn’t even felt anything when saying it, as if his mind had gone blank before the probable fact of being crippled for life. As though the filter in his head had broken—if he had ever had one at all. Everything felt so new and exhausting.

“You’re not crippled, Katsuki,” his mother answered with a patience he couldn’t recall ever hearing from her. “Everything is perfectly fine.”

Was it? Himiko interrupted before he could speak again.

“Doctor Nana said it might take a while for you to recover your memory, but she also said it was normal,” she added, voice loud, eyes worried. “But you know who I am, don’t you, brother?”

His mouth opened automatically, as if to reassure her. “…Himiko.” She smiled, tears in her eyes.

“Good, little brother.”

Now, just how much had he forgotten?

“There’s no use tearing yourself apart trying to recall things that will come back to you little by little,” Mitsuki said, rubbing a hand over her head in visible frustration. Katsuki felt guilty for making his mother feel that way. “You need to focus on resting and recovering. You suffered a serious brain injury, and you can’t just ignore it.” His father nodded in agreement, giving his ankle a friendly squeeze.

“How do you feel, son?”

Someone dressed in white entered the room just as he was answering. “I feel… like I’ve slept… too long.”

“And your body? What about that?”

The blond inspected his hands and arms closely. Then, when he tried to lift both feet beneath the sheet, the weight of the cast on his right foot made him groan.

“I think I’m a little broken.”

His sister grimaced.

“How long will I be staying here?” he asked with heavy pauses, his breath swelling his chest like a paper bag as he tried not to hyperventilate. “Will I be able to go home?”

“I’m afraid that will have to wait a little longer, Bakugou-san.” The voice he now recognized as his doctor’s answered as she entered the room, smiling warmly. “You’ve got a couple of broken bones, and your gray matter is still a bit swollen.” Then she approached the bed, aiming a small flashlight at his eyes, and he couldn’t help but flinch back. “Here. Look straight ahead.”

So he did.

“Can’t I recover at home? And why does my neck hurt so much?”

The woman pocketed her light after five seconds, looking at him as though weighing her words. Then she turned toward his parents, her expression almost asking for their approval. Once she received it silently, she looked back at him.

“You’ve been dependent on a mechanical ventilator these past seven days. Your throat and neck might feel a bit sore,” she said, taking a folder from the foot of his bed and jotting down notes, as casually as someone drinking water. “I’m going to tell you this, but you should know it may come as a shock.”

Well, he had just woken from a coma. What else could have happened? Would anyone tell him the details? The boy nodded, his gaze serious, brows furrowed. The doctor sighed.

“You arrived with a brain injury so severe that we had to operate and drain the hemorrhage before things spiraled out of control,” her voice was calm yet firm. “Your heart stopped three times, and we had to place you on extracorporeal membrane oxygenation to keep you alive.”

Katsuki blinked in comprehension. Suddenly, though everything sounded complicated yet favorable, he felt as though he had stolen his place on earth by force.

“However, you didn’t suffer any irreparable damage beyond the amnesia,” the woman closed the file, giving him a look laced with compassion. “It’s almost a miracle.”

Miracle.

The word rang bittersweet in his mind, and he knew it would taste even more bitter on his tongue. He stayed silent.

“How much time have I lost?”

The last thing he remembered were fragmented pieces of what he assumed had been the accident, and from there everything jumped through time in a blur of scattered events.

“We don’t know yet,” she answered, professional and grave. “We’ll schedule you an appointment with psychology and another for brain imaging so we can reach a conclusion, but for now the best thing is for you to remain here.”

Katsuki hated hospitals.

“Is it reversible?”

The look she gave him only unsettled him further.

“We’re not sure about that either.”

It wasn’t a big deal. He was certain he hadn’t lost too much time in his memories, and he would always have his family to help him walk the path again. But why did he have the gnawing feeling he was forgetting something of utmost importance?

He felt like a lost, abandoned child.

“At least now you’ve got a new look,” his sister added, brushing her hand over his head, suddenly making him aware that the right side of his skull felt far more exposed.

He reached up and felt the roughness beneath his palm.

They had shaved the right half of his head.

Well, it made sense. If he’d had brain surgery, it was the most logical outcome of all possibilities. It wasn’t as though his appearance mattered much to him anyway.

A wave of irritation struck him so abruptly he didn’t stop himself before swatting Himiko’s hand away from his skin, not at all gently.

She froze beside him, processing what had just happened.

He realized what he’d done a couple of seconds later; he looked at her with guilty eyes and hunched into himself. “I’m sorry— Himiko.”

His sister shook her head, brushing it off. “It’s fine, brother. You’re tired, it’s been hard days for you and—”

“The psychology team will come at four.”

What time was it, anyway?

His doctor seemed to understand his confused stare because she added right away, “It’s nine in the morning.”

Nine. What time had the accident happened, a week ago?

“I’ll leave you alone.”

When the doctor and nurse left, the tangle of thoughts closed in on him once more. His family spoke to him, but he could barely reply without frowning at the unfinished blanks in his mind. There were things he didn’t remember and therefore couldn’t understand, and despite their attempt at cheerful chatter, neither his mother, nor his father, nor his sister seemed willing to let slip the pieces of information Katsuki so badly needed. On top of that, his anxiety was so intense it felt as if it were going to devour him alive.

He had gone out late at night, not details about the circumstances. The snow was heavy and treacherous, but he hadn’t relented. The car had skidded on the icy street. There were no more details, and yet no inconsistencies.

For Katsuki, for now, that was enough.

***

“Hey, Izuku.”

The green-haired boy kept chewing slowly on the food in his mouth. He had recognized the voice that addressed him, but in truth, it had been days since he’d felt the will to strike up any kind of conversation at all.

He glanced at the watch on his wrist and blinked sluggishly. 7:45 AM.

“Izuku,” Ochako repeated as she approached and sat beside him on the bench, her damp hair tied back in a low ponytail, the pleasant scent of strawberries telling him she’d just showered. Probably just returned after going home to rest for a while. Around them, the distant sounds of beeping and voices wrapped them in constant noise.

He felt her hug him suddenly, and he held back the tears that lately seemed unwilling to stop falling from his weary eyes.

“Izuku, go home.” His friend whispered in his ear, then rested her cheek on his shoulder. “You’ve barely gone, and your mom is worried abou— about everyone.”

Maybe that part was true, but he refused to abandon Katsuki.

Even if his family couldn’t stand his presence.

“I can’t leave him, Ochako,” the boy replied as he turned to face her, the sandwich in his hands crushed under the visible pressure of his trembling fingers. “He’s here because of me.”

Ochako’s gaze softened with something that looked very much like pity, and quiet understanding. She wanted to tell him it wasn’t true, but deep down she knew that no matter how many times she repeated it to Izuku, the boy would never think otherwise. Then she slid a relatively heavy gym bag onto his lap. Izuku hadn’t noticed she was carrying it until it was there, weighing down on him.

“What’s this?” he asked, confused, looking back and forth between Ochako and the bag.

“I stopped by your place to pick up some clothes for you to change,” she answered gently. “Your mom packed the bag and asked me to bring it, since she has to work and we don’t know how much longer you’ll be here—”

The blaring ring of a cell phone cut her off abruptly. Ochako dug the device out of her purse and looked at the screen, her expression tightening.

“Himiko,” she murmured, her eyes flicking toward the glassy, grief-heavy eyes of her best friend. Izuku’s features lit up—just for a fraction of a second—at the sound of the blonde’s name. Ochako listened in silence to the voice on the other end for at least a minute, and then her eyes flew wide with surprise; immediately after, she gripped Izuku’s shoulder, startling him. “Today? That’s— that’s incredible, but have the doctors already approved it?” Silence. “Oh my God, Himiko, of course, I’m— I’m here, I’m just with I—” she clamped her mouth shut abruptly, realizing she had almost spoken his name, and looked away, embarrassed. “I’m in the parking lot. I’ll head over right now— I’m so happy for you and your family, Himiko, this is the best news. See you in five.” And she hung up.

Izuku blinked at her.

“What is it?” The green-haired boy leaned closer, hope shimmering in his emerald eyes. “What is it, Ochako?”

His friend bit her lip, trying to hold back what seemed like an enormous smile.

“Izuku, the doctors are going to wake Bakugou.”

Then it was as if his brain simply stopped working.

That now-familiar feeling of a punch to the gut knocked the air out of him, air he hadn’t realized he’d been holding since the call began. The echo of her words spun around him, dizzying, petrifying.

The doctors are going to wake Bakugou.

Wake Bakugou.

Wake.

Kacchan was going to wake up.

A bottomless uncertainty shook him to his core.

“Is he okay?” the boy gasped, his chest heavy as if he were having an asthma attack. “H-He— is he okay? Is it safe for the doctors to do that? Does that mean he’s recovered? Can I— can I—”

Ochako cupped his face in her hands and kissed his forehead with sisterly tenderness, but even so, something sorrowful lingered in her eyes.

“Izuku,” she sighed, staring at the floor. “I think it would be best if you waited for me to go and tell you how things are… you know, to avoid inconveniences like last time.”

Izuku blinked at her, confused. A second later, reality struck, and he pressed his lips together, holding back the tears that once again threatened to spill. He nodded as if he had no choice (because really, he didn’t), and gently pushed her hands away from his face, a flash of resentment rising inside him—resentment he knew she didn’t deserve.

“You’re right,” he said, nodding sadly. “Go. I’ll wait.” She nodded back and stood, giving him a quick hug before leaving.

“I’ll call you as soon as I know more,” she said, and trotted down the hallway.

Izuku felt like a fly in the middle of a banquet.

Unwanted, unneeded, unrequited.

It was true that the Bakugous didn’t want him there. It was true he was the last person who should even show his face near Katsuki. It was true the best thing would be for him to disappear from the blond’s life forever. But how was he supposed to accept all that, just like that? Wasn’t he in love with him?

Was he?

With every passing day, he was more certain that he was.

There was nothing he wanted more in the world right now than to see life shine in Katsuki’s eyes again.

Please, God, give him back to me.

Even if he’s not mine to claim.

He tossed what remained of his sandwich into the trash and sat upright, rigid, waiting. Maybe if he prayed hard enough, maybe if he atoned hard enough, Katsuki would live, even if he had no part in his future. Things seemed to be looking better. They were going to wake him. That meant he’d improved. They wouldn’t wake him without reason, right? How did these things work? His heart pounded in his throat like a relentless drum.

Let this end, please.

For the second time that day (and the day had barely begun), the sound of a cell phone pierced his ears, making him jump in his seat.

It took him several seconds to decide whether to pick it up and check what the incessant noise was about. He did, with clumsy, trembling hands.

The screen displayed a notification from an unknown sender. What little food remained in his stomach churned violently, nausea rising. He clicked the message, and his breath caught in his throat when both the words and the attached photograph stared back at him.

i think you’ve been too distracted these days

that makes me a little angry

don’t forget what’s at stake, princess

[Photo]

There was no need to describe what was in the photograph.

Izuku truly hadn’t thought much (or at all) about Haitani during the seven days since his threatening message. Deep inside, under all the stress weighing on him, he had hoped the man would forget him. He had even been naive enough to trust that Haitani had once felt love for him.

Now he realized, harshly and painfully, that he hadn’t.

He found it surprising and yet hilarious, how people could turn against someone—or something—they once swore to love. Though, when Haitani had said it, it was probably nothing more than empty words.

And now that his ex had once again made his grand entrance, the problem buzzed in his ears all over again; he knew quite well he had to do something, but what? His life already seemed to be hanging by a thread, and the constant threat of those photographs surfacing only pushed him to levels of tension he hadn’t known existed. He only wanted to make sure Kacchan would be all right, and then… disappear. Now that Katsuki was about to wake up…

Minutes and hours dragged on, so slow and yet so fast that it felt as if he were stuck in a single moment—one that stood still yet slipped away in the blink of an eye.

Ring ring ring.

“Mina?”

“Hey, ‘Zuku,” the girl’s voice echoed through the receiver of his phone, calm and steady. “Kirishima says Bakugou is going to wake up.”

The boy nodded frantically, forgetting that his friend couldn’t see him, and then said, “Yeah— they should be waking him right about now… or at least that’s what Ochako told me.” His voice dimmed. Mina groaned on the other end.

“You’re going to go in to see him,” the girl replied with resolve, and Izuku heard it—though faintly—the distorted sound of her voice as if it came not from the receiver but from reality itself. So when he lifted his face to look for her, he couldn’t help the smile that spread across his lips at the sight of her walking down the hallway straight toward him, her step firm and decided, phone still to her ear. “I’ll take care of that.”

***

“No one is going to speak about this.” Mitsuki’s gaze was cold and yet burning with a thousand fires, stern and leaving no room for discussion. In that place and at that moment, there was no one capable of standing against her. “Katsuki is showing signs of post-traumatic amnesia.”

Eyes of every shape and shade stared back at her in sepulchral silence. The eyes of her son’s friends.

Deep inside, she knew there were a certain pair of eyes missing from the crowd. Eyes large, framed by curled lashes, green like spring grass. Eyes that, if her son remembered, he would long for. But the fact was he didn’t… and it was better that way. She crossed her arms and took a second to look each of those brats squarely in the eye, making sure her point landed sharp and clear.

“You will not speak of the accident, and you will not speak of Midoriya Izuku.”

A collective gasp rippled through the waiting room. Hardly had the woman finished speaking when Ochako’s strong voice rose in protest.

“You can’t do that, ma’am.”

Mitsuki turned to where the voice came from and gave her a long, weary look, tinged with a flicker of curiosity. “And why not, exactly?”

Ochako stood, fists clenched. “It’s not your decision whether Bakugou remembers or not— you don’t have power over what we can or cannot say—”

“I can tell you, girl, that if that is the plan you all have in mind—” she made a gesture with her hand, indicating all of them “—then you will never see Bakugou again.”

This time it was Kirishima who shot to his feet, pressing a hand tight against his heart, as though those words alone had struck at the very integrity of the organ. “Bakugou doesn’t deserve for us to keep things from—”

“It’s an ultimatum.” This time Himiko stepped forward a few paces, standing in front of her mother, and glared at them all with murderous annoyance—including her sweet, sweet Ochako. “My brother is suffering, and I won’t allow you to pile more pain onto his burden.”

Ochako cast her a pained look. She understood that the final word lay with the blond’s family, and that they knew what was best for his well-being, but she was deeply against trying to cover the sun with a single finger. And against hurting Izuku.

“You know this isn’t the right thing, Himiko,” she dared to say, though the blonde barely showed any sign she’d heard her. The brunette knew that those words had likely marked the end of whatever they had been sharing until now. Perhaps it was best to draw a clear line between the Bakugous and themselves.

“I won’t say another word,” Mitsuki added, placing a hand on her daughter’s shoulder to pull her closer. Further back, leaning against the wall with a gray, expressionless face as though weighing too many things, was Mr. Bakugou, unreadable. “Katsuki had an accident one night when he went shopping downtown and it was snowing. Midoriya Izuku is nothing but an unfortunate stumble that has no place in this story, and never will.”

With that, the woman turned on her heel and left, the dry sound of her shoes echoing as her husband and daughter walked beside her. Ochako kept her head bowed, lost in everything and nothing at once. It wasn’t until several minutes later, after sitting back down, that Denki finally voiced his opinion.

“I don’t think this is fair for Bakugou,” he said, loud enough for his friends to hear, but not so loud as to let the information slip outside their small circle. “Or for Mido.”

Shinsou, at his side and with bags under his eyes darker than usual, shook his head as he brushed hair out of his face. “Man, this has to be a joke.”

“They didn’t look like they were joking.” Mei muttered thoughtfully.

“It is not the best course for things to take,” Iida added, elbows resting on his knees as he held his chin in thought. “…But I think at the end of the day, it is his family, and they know what’s best for him.”

Kyouka stiffened in her seat four chairs away, then abruptly shot up, fists clenched, her expression a storm of fury and disbelief.

“You think the best thing is to lie to him and keep him away from the one person who understands him more than anyone?” she spat, her rage barely contained, her voice inevitably rising with her next words. “Are you all insane?”

“Kyouka, no one said we’re accept—” Ochako tried to defend herself, just as Iida stared at his friend in disbelief and said: “We’re only his friends, Jirou, it’s his family who must decide—”

“No one has to decide anything!” the purple-haired girl exploded, standing tall and fierce before her bowed-headed friends. “Bakugou is already an adult. He’s eighteen,” she spread her arms in a gesture of sheer frustration. “For God’s sake, I know what happened was horrible and— from the outside it looks like Izuku was to blame for it all.”

Momo looked at her with tears in her eyes.

“…But it was Bakugou who chose to protect Izuku,” Kyouka added, calmer now, her gaze lost on the opposite wall. “Bakugou chose to protect him because he feels deeply for him, feelings we can’t just choose to hide and rip away out of sheer whim. And that includes his family.”

A minute of silence followed her words, until Shoto’s tired voice rose in the room: “But you heard Mrs. Bakugou. If any of us tells him the truth, she might take her whole family to another city—or worse, get a restraining order.”

Ochako stood. “She wouldn’t,” she said, praying with all her heart that her words were true. “They have their company here and, like Kyouka said, Bakugou is eighteen. He’s about to start university, and there isn’t a single boy in this country who doesn’t want to go to UT.” She breathed out and finished, “Besides, I’m sure it’s not like he’s lost all his memories. I’m sure there are gaps, things he still recalls… maybe half-formed, but—”

Then a brave, resolute voice cut her off—respectful, yet heavy with conviction.

“—But we’ll make him remember in a way that doesn’t require us to tell him what happened with our own mouths.” Mina said, entering with her phone and bag in one hand, and beside her, a shrunken, ashamed Izuku. “We’ll make him remember together.”

Though silence filled the room, the air grew lighter, evidence that everyone agreed with the pink-haired girl. Then she continued.

“But right now, we need to find a way for Izuku and Bakugou to see each other.”

***

By the thirteenth day after the accident, Izuku still hadn’t been able to see Katsuki.

He hadn’t even come close.

Because the boy remained in intensive care, even if no longer dependent on a ventilator to breathe, his brain was still in a delicate state, and from what his friends told him, he was still undergoing complex procedures and tests. He had even had a minor surgery the previous week.

Yet the outlook was far clearer than it had been ten days ago, and at last Izuku could feel some calm in his heart.

Some.

He had finally gone home, spent time with his mother (who also regularly came by the hospital), and managed to get a few nights of decent sleep.

Despite not seeing Katsuki and the fact that his last memory of him remained seared into his mind (the image of his battered, bloodied face and body), he felt a bit more at peace, even with the nightmares. Mina and Ochako had been his strongest advocates, trying to help him feel better and pushing for him to see Katsuki as soon as possible.

Katsuki’s family was with him around the clock.

In the mornings, depending on the day, his parents seemed to take turns between running their company and watching over him, and in the afternoons and nights, it was Himiko who curled up on the couch in his hospital room.

It’s fine, Izuku told himself every day.

The more time passed and the more he went over it all in his head, the more he became irreversibly convinced that maybe it really was best to leave Katsuki and his family alone. Especially on the days he had to deal with Haitani.

The man hadn’t budged an inch. In fact, he seemed to relish it with psychopathic glee, and his threats were becoming more tangible by the day.

Now the messages weren’t spaced out over several days. He was getting at least one a day, and several calls a week. The latest twist? Haitani was now demanding to see him.

The mere thought froze his bones.

But did he have another choice? Not really. He had thought about telling Mina and Ochako, even his mother, and taking the messages to the police, but he had made the mistake of thinking out loud—and at the mere mention of his intentions, the maniac had threatened to hurt his friends or his mother.

Izuku knew Haitani had the means and resources to do it, and get away with it.

Damn it, even if he went to the police with the messages as proof and it ended with Haitani being locked up, the bastard would find a way to walk free with just a snap of his fingers.

Life was shit.

No. Wrong.

His life was shit.

It was either his loved ones, or being exposed and humiliated for life, losing any chance at a future in the process.

The choice was crystal clear.

He had never been anyone, anyway.

He stared at the cracked screen of his phone with a trace of doubt and another of suffering. A migraine was splitting his skull. Maybe finishing a whole bottle of vodka by himself the night before hadn’t been such a good idea.

It was already January 6th, and he still hadn’t reached out to Miss Nagant to see if she still had a place for him at her prestigious school.

After all that had happened, the woman had shown no sign of remembering his existence, though at the year’s end she had posted online the calls for the new groups opening this year. Izuku watched with sadness the reel posted twelve hours ago, where Pony—his friend (or so he still thought)—performed half a choreography as flawlessly as ever.

He almost laughed at it all.

Two or three months ago he had been floating on a cloud, enjoying a happiness so intense that he forgot happiness itself is fleeting.

It was the harsh, cruel moments that lingered longest in life, sometimes threatening to stretch on forever.

Katsuki was the one who had suffered the accident, but it felt as though it was his own life that had stalled, then overturned like Kacchan’s car that night.

But no. He couldn’t allow himself to think like that, to be that selfish. Kacchan had gone through (and was still going through) weeks in a hospital bed, with wounds that had nearly cost him his life, and which he would now have to learn to live with.

A life that wouldn’t include him, no matter how close they were.

Crying wouldn’t do any good.

With renewed fury, he pressed his thumb into the freshest wound on his wrist. The flesh bled almost instantly, and he simply let it drip onto the sheets. It was like watching a graphic depiction of life slipping out of his hands.

Wake from your sleep
The drying of your tears

Today we escape
We escape

And again, the damned sound of the phone.

Pack and get dressed
Before your father hears us
Before all hell
Breaks loose

The usual unknown number stared back at him, and he unlocked the screen with a trembling finger. The brightness at its maximum blinded him for a moment, but he left it as it was. Surely he’d need clarity to see properly whatever the man had sent this time.

Sometimes he wondered where the hell Haitani got so many photos and videos, because one way or another, Izuku could barely even remember living through those moments.

God, how had he let Haitani take so many pictures of him in such intimate situations? Had he been that in love?

That stupid?

This time, his freckled, flushed face stared back at him, sprawled languidly on his ex’s navy-blue sheets; on his lips, a satisfied smile that screamed to the world he had just been fucked well, and on his body, a set of pink lingerie obviously never designed for a boy to wear.

Sweet, false moments of yesterday.

hey, princess, remember that day?

Izuku pressed his lips into a thin line as he watched the three dots bounce.

wish you could warm my bed one more time

A nauseating wave forced him to take a deep breath and shut his eyes in frustration. No one could help him. Absolutely no one.

I want to see you. Give me a date or these photos will end up anonymously in the university’s arts division council.

you wouldn’t want that, would you, darling?

Suddenly, the green-haired boy was blinded by the fury he fought to contain every day, fury that only grew larger and larger.

Sing us a song
A song to keep us warm
There’s such a chill
Such a chill

do whatever you want, asshole

The reply came quickly, and Izuku swore he could hear the man’s booming laugh right beside him in the room.

let me be clearer, princess
if you don’t come to me, maybe your dear friend ochako will suffer an unfortunate accident
or, I don’t know, maybe your mother , it depends on my mood
but only maybe

you’re a fucking lunatic

I’m lunatic for you, bab e

what do you even want from me?
I’ve almost lost everything
what more do you think I can give you?

don’t say stupid things, Izuku
you haven’t lost anything
stop talking like that bastard means so much to you
you’re mine, and if you could just come to your senses and accept it, you’d see that with me you have everything
it all started because of your damn habit of making me so fucking angry
that and because you’re a filthy whore
but I’m willing to forgive you and put an end to it

Izuku stared at the screen, dumbfounded. His brain short-circuited, shocked but not surprised by the narcissistic words of the man he had once loved.

And you can laugh a spineless laugh
We hope your rules and wisdom choke you

ok, I’ll meet you

I hope that you choke
That you choke

When he lifted his head to glance into the mirror across his room, he almost saw the bloodthirsty smile of his predator behind him.

I am his mother, and if I have to keep him from danger, I will do so as many times as necessary.

But suddenly, on the other side, Mrs. Bakugou’s stern, accusatory gaze stalked him like a wild animal.

You are a threat.

Maybe it was true, what she said. And what Haitani said. He was nothing more than a stumbling block in other people’s lives, dangerous and annoying; perhaps, after all, the best thing really was to return to the man.

He knew him like the back of his hand, ready to ignore the displeasure he had caused him, and just as he had the means to sink him, he had the means to lift him up.

And this was a crucial moment in which he especially felt like he was drowning.

excellent choice, darling

Izuku threw his phone against the wall and wrapped himself back in the blankets. It was Friday, and only a week remained before classes started again. He didn’t even know if Kacchan would return to class. The atmosphere was tense and sad, and he didn’t have the energy to handle all his responsibilities like he had last year. Ignoring the fact that he had started drinking again without restraint and taking risks, he doubted he could focus on finishing his final semester with all that it entailed.

***

“‘Zuku?”

The sound reached his mind from somewhere far away, soft, tender, like a caress on his hair.

“‘Zuku, wake up.” It sounded a lot like his mom. “Izuku, Mina’s here.”

Suddenly, it was as if his body regained its soul from the underworld. He twisted violently in bed, almost smashing his face against the floor.

“God, it smells like something died in here.” His friend said kindly, as always, taking a couple of steps into the room, dodging piles of clothes and other various objects scattered on the floor. “How long has it been since you bathed?”

Izuku grabbed his throbbing head and squinted at the girl, hands on her hips, her expression one of disapproval.

“I bathed two days ago when I went to the hospital,” he answered, annoyed, sniffing his armpit without any delicacy. His sleepy face contorted in disgust a second later. “You’re right, I stink.”

“Well of course you stink, idiot,” she said, with one fierce, perfectly manicured hand, lifting the blanket off him and tossing it onto the floor with the rest of his things. “Get up and shower, trash. Aunt Inko will leave us breakfast, and I have good news for you.”

If Izuku had been a rabbit, his ears would have perked up with renewed interest.

“Good news?” he asked, barely disguising the hope in his voice and his puppy-dog eyes. He crawled on his knees across the mattress until he reached the edge, facing the pink-haired girl. “Is it about Kacchan? Is everything okay?”

“Didn’t I just tell you it’s good news?”

“But—”

She grabbed his shoulders and forced him to focus his wide-eyed gaze on her, and only her. “I said: get up and shower, and then I’ll wait for you in the dining room so we can talk.”

The poor boy held back his pained expression and the urge to demand she speak, but he finally nodded, embarrassed, and stood to find his towel before heading to the bathroom.

What could “good news” mean? In the context of their situation, there were endless possibilities. Kacchan’s brain inflammation had gone down. They had finally moved him from intensive care to a less critical area. Better yet, he had been discharged. And inexorably… what if Kacchan had regained his memory?

He stayed still under the shower, listening carefully to the sound of water hitting the ceramic floor.

Did Izuku want Katsuki to regain his memory? He would have liked to answer yes firmly, but he found himself doubting, weighing possibilities. What would Kacchan think of him, after everything that had happened? Would he hate him, like his mother did? Would he be willing to receive him back?

Would he let him look at him? Hug him? And maybe stroke his hair, smell his perfume, and…

“Midoriya Izuku!”

He blinked, startled.

“I’m coming!”

A few minutes later, he was sitting at the dining table, staring at his breakfast as Mina ate voraciously, as if starving.

After a few minutes of the clattering of chopsticks against plates and the TV in the background, Mina paused and looked at him seriously, chewing.

“Aren’t you going to eat anything?” She pointed at him accusingly with her chopsticks. The boy looked at his plate again, then at his friend, and let out his contained anxiety in a single question.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

She swallowed with a disgusted gesture and sighed. “I was hoping you’d eat a little first,” she reasoned, but she still decided not to prolong her best friend’s suffering. “Bakugou will be discharged at noon.”

Izuku’s ears rang with a kind of white noise that, although it conveyed nothing, was somehow deafening.

“…Ochako thought it best that I tell you personally, since she’s going to accompany Himiko. You know, despite everything, even if they’ve broken up and she doesn’t share her opinion, she says she’ll be there for her and…”

Kacchan was going to be discharged.

“…so his parents weren’t entirely in favor of his friends going to welcome him, but in the end, they accepted it, thanks to Kirishima, and there will be a small gathering at his house to celebrate that he’s finally out of the hospital…”

Today.

“…but you know, we’re all threatened with what we can or cannot say and they put a lot of conditions on us, plus Bakugou still isn’t fully used to our presence, but I thought you should know…”

Kacchan was going home today.

“…it would have been great if you were there.”

Right. He wasn’t allowed near Kacchan. At least, not in front of his family. That was going to be hard, considering they would still share six more months of high school.

“Is he… happy?”

Mina stopped talking and blinked in his direction. Then she averted her gaze, deep with sadness. “I… I think so.” She whispered, uncertain. “At least that’s how it seems.”

For now, that was enough for Izuku.

A broken smile formed on his lips as he played with the food on his plate. He definitely had no appetite; he felt like vomiting. “I’m really glad to hear that.”

Mina reached across the table and squeezed his hand, trying to offer support, but for the boy, it felt empty, like his existence.

“‘Zuzu, you have to be patient— I know we promised that you and Bakugou would talk, but it’s been difficult with him in the hospital.” She bit her lip in frustration. “But now that we’ll be back at school, you can get closer to him more easily, and— we’ll support you, even if the Bakugous don’t agree—”

“I don’t know if Kacchan remembering me is really what I want, Mina.” The boy interrupted her, and she froze at his statement. A moment of brief silence followed his words.

“What do you mean by that?”

Izuku pulled his hand from hers to twist his fingers in his lap. “Maybe it’s really best that we— that I—” He bit his lip and felt tears well up in his eyes again. Tears. Tears again. He could do nothing but cry. He was weak, weak, weak—

“I’ll just hurt him again and again, because that’s what I do. I’m a horrible person, and my place—” He paused abruptly, then a second later let his thoughts spill freely. “My place is far from him. I must always be Icarus and he the sun, but I must never approach again.”

Mina looked at him with something that felt almost like understanding in her eyes, surprised, almost as if a divine truth had just been revealed to her, but her compassion still glimmered faintly.

“Maybe… maybe you’re right.”

It hurt like embers on the skin to hear it from someone else.

“You’d better go,” Izuku suggested, bittersweet but still kind, standing up. “Say hi to everyone for me and… see you Monday.”

The girl watched her friend drag his feet back to his room, unable to shake the grim feeling that, even though the storm seemed to have passed, the worst was yet to come.