Archive of Our Own ^beta

The notebook sitting on his desk is charred and waterlogged, and it would’ve been illegible if Katsuki hadn’t painstakingly blow dried each page.

He doesn’t want to open it again, though any clue as to why All Might’s large signature is on the last written page sends a lick of curiosity burning through him. He doesn’t want to throw it into an empty drawer in his desk. He doesn’t want to keep fucking staring at the thing either-

Katsuki huffs and tosses himself onto his bed. His palms feel warm and disgusting and sweaty.

He’d already washed them about a dozen times. The last time, he had brushed beneath his nails till his skin turned bright pink and rubbed his hands under the scalding water so aggressively, he thought for a moment that he may start blee-

Maybe he should wash his hands again. Maybe he should take another shower. Maybe he should open up that fucking notebook and do something. Anything.

Anything but fucking sitting here like a goddamn moron.

He can taste copper on his tongue.

Katsuki feels it like an unrelenting itch underneath his skin. It burns against his ribcage and prickles at his nerves and sends his heart pounding -- this familiar swell of fury. It’s violent and desperate and has no place to go.

He needs to- he needs to get out of this house. He has so many things he needs to do and say, and he can’t do them sitting here. He can’t do them- he can’t-

Katsuki can feel his hands start to smoke, a burst away from fireworks. ‘When was the last time I lost control of my quirk?’ Katsuki ponders for a moment, watching the smoke rise almost numbly. His anger did that now. It’d grow so strong, his body would shake, and then it’d become like a ringing in his ear, like static in his muscles, as icy numbness washed over him.

‘I used to lose control of it all the time as a brat,’ Katsuki can’t help but remember, watching little sparks dance in his palms. ‘One time when we were playing, I accidentally hit Dek-’

Fuck, he needs to wash his hands again.

Katsuki slowly pads over to the bathroom connected to his room. He turns the lights on, but refuses to look up and glance in the mirror. Last time, it had been burning hot water; maybe this time, he should try the opposite.

Maybe ice cold will feel better than scalding. Like he deserves to feel better. Like he deserves to feel anything but this awful, pathetic, disgusting-

Katsuki barely hears the soft knock on his door over the sound of running water. He turns the knob on the sink. He didn’t wash his hands for long this time, but his palms feel drier than usual, like they’re close to cracking. He can hear his mom hesitate outside his door, pausing for a moment as she waits for a response, before opening the door anyway.

“Dinner is ready, Katsuki,” she says, shuffling awkwardly in the doorway. Not quite sure whether she wants to step inside, not quite sure she wants to run back down the stairs and away from this horribly uncomfortable situation. Katsuki feels the same way.

Normally, his mom wouldn’t ever bother coming to his room. She’d screech from the kitchen, “Get your ass in here, Katsuki! The table isn’t going to set itself!”

And Katsuki would yell back, “Shove off, old hag!” as he begrudgingly walked down the stairs.

Now, they’re stuck in this painful charade. They don’t do this. They don't know how to do this. And they both know that.

It almost makes him wish he could go back to being alone.

“Fine, whatever,” Katsuki responds, voice rough in his throat.

He steps towards the door; his mom stays standing in the doorway, knuckles white as she holds the doorknob. She’s giving him a look he doesn’t know how to read as she scans his face. “Inko… I just got off the phone with her. It’s- in two days, we’ll go to the-”

“Got it,” Katsuki cuts her off and his mom doesn’t reprimand him for it.

As he follows her out the door, Katsuki glances back at the notebook and resists the urge to laugh hysterically.

Auntie Inko buries Deku on an early Thursday morning.

There’s few people in attendance. Deku doesn’t exactly have friends. Just his Kacchan. And their relationship has always been- well, Katsuki’s here, along with his parents.

No one from school shows up. No students, no teachers. Nothing.

Deku’s deadbeat dad doesn’t show his face either. Probably still fucked off somewhere in America.

Auntie doesn’t seem to have many friends either. Katsuki vaguely remembers the long hours she had to work back when he used to come over to Deku’s apartment as a kid. It must’ve been hard providing for a kid all on her own and still staying present and active in his life. Auntie probably didn’t get many opportunities to make new friends in that rare amount of free time.

Now, she would probably trade away any opportunity for just another minute with her son.

A few of her coworkers show up and someone Katsuki thinks is one of their neighbors.

It’s… sad. And pathetic.

And it makes Katsuki want to scream till his throat’s raw and blast things till his muscles burn. ‘Stupid fucking useless Deku and this stupid fucking funeral,’ Katsuki viciously thinks first.

‘This is all my fault,’ Katsuki thinks next.

Katsuki doesn’t pay much attention to the funeral. He’s drifting in that dull, numb feeling.

He remembers Auntie Inko’s loud wailing and hiccuping sobs as she pleaded for Deku to just come back. He remembers the painfully tight grip of his mom’s hand on his arm and the reassuring presence of his dad’s hand on his shoulder. He remembers some tall twig of a man hovering around just for a moment.

He remembers the beating sun outside. Deku’s funeral is warm. Clear skies shining light, its beams echoing shadows over Deku’s picture. Deku has always looked young with his freckled baby cheeks and doe eyes, but Katsuki can tell the picture Auntie chose is him from a few years ago -- with that blinding smile. When’s the last time Katsuki saw that smile?

His parents take Auntie Inko to get some water, eventually. And everyone else awkwardly offers their well wishes as she passes by before slowly trickling out.

Katsuki stands there. He’s hiding his hands in the pockets of his suit. An All Might card grazes the back of his hand.

He had gotten that card, once upon a time ago, with Deku. His childhood friend who he used to have sleepovers with, who used to be so afraid of the dark that he’d cuddle up next to Katsuki and hide in his chest. Who cried when his flower crown came out laughably bad compared to Katsuki’s own so he, of course, proceeded to laugh at him; and then cried even harder when Katsuki had given him his flower crown and it had wilted after a few days. Who clumsily kissed at Katsuki’s scraped knees because that’s what Auntie Inko did and flushed strawberry red when Katsuki got a scratch on his cheek. Who chased after him through the forests outside their neighborhood and between the jungle gym of their local park and through the hallways of their primary school.

Every single day of his life, Deku had been near him, looking down on him- fuck, if he ever had. Because someone who had been looking down on him wouldn’t have done that.

And now…

Something wretched makes home in Katsuki’s chest when it hits him: he’s never going to hear Deku’s “Kacchan!” at his back ever again.

Katsuki’s palms sweat. Fuck, it’s warm.

He needs to get out of here.

His hands are wet.

It’s disgusting and he needs to leave before he combusts.

His parents will be occupied with Auntie Inko for a while and he doubts with… everything that’s happened that his mom would screech at him for leaving without telling anyone.

Katsuki hasn’t been back to Aldera Junior High since that day. The principal had personally come to the Bakugou household to express well wishes to his family and to excuse him from class for as long as he needed.

He wonders how the principal’s conversation with Auntie Inko had gone. He wonders if they’d had a conversation at all.

Katsuki trails past the forest’s edge and walks through their old park and tries not to think about Deku or his hands or anything because every thought going through his head fuels the fury building in his gut.

Somehow, after a few minutes or a few hours of walking, Katsuki finds himself at Aldera. The first thing he hears are whispers of conversation fluttering through the wind from a classroom window left ajar.

He can’t pass the front of the school. Can’t bring himself to see the dark stain painting the concrete. Has Aldera cleaned it up by now?

How easy is blood to clean? Katsuki’s washed his hands a hundred times at this point and they’re still wet.

So, instead, Katsuki passes by the side of the school where hopefully no one will see him and bother-

“Kacchan!” Deku squeaks, jumping up from where he was sitting, perched on the brick of the koi fish pond. He mumbles something under his breath before adding, “O-oh, hey! Good morning, are you heading to class?”

Before his brain can even catch up with him, Katsuki’s knees give out beneath him.

“Kacchan, you’re crying,” Deku whispers, seemingly without thinking, shock clear in his green eyes. He reaches out his hand as he offers, “Are you alright? Is everything okay?”

Katsuki doesn’t take that hand.

He doesn’t respond.

He shuts his eyes and runs far, far away from Aldera Junior High School.

Katsuki’s started taking walks every evening.

As part of his training in preparation for applying to U.A. and becoming the number one hero, Katsuki would go on long runs every morning before school. But he hasn’t gone back to school yet and his parents' stifled conversations are like claws digging into his spine and the idea of spending his evenings in his bedroom staring at that waterlogged notebook makes him want to hunt down Deku and scream at him. But he can’t. So stupid evening walks around the neighborhood it is.

Katsuki passes by an old convenience store. The old man who owns it hates him -- actually despises him. Katsuki knows he has an abrasive and callous personality, he’s not a fucking idiot, but adults don’t normally hate him; he has an amazing and powerful quirk, he’s top of his class, and though he doesn’t look it, he’s generally a rule follower.

However, a week after getting his quirk, back when it was nothing more than cracks of fire dusting his not-yet-callused palms, he and Deku and a bunch of other extras had gone to this convenience store to get popsicles. Deku had stars in his eyes as he let out a few sparks and Katsuki had wanted to see what would happen if he could make a more powerful burst; he had then proceeded to accidentally blow up the magazine rack which led to the convenience store owner yelling at them, Deku bawling with ruddy cheeks and hiccuping apologies, and Katsuki kicking the old man in the shin to get him to stop screaming.

His mom had to come sort everything out and she had given him an earful about quirk control and being careful when they got home. Katsuki’s never been allowed back in that store; he gets a harsh glare just for walking by. The old man can really hold petty, decade-long grudges, which Katsuki finds half-annoying and half-respectable.

It never stops Katsuki from glaring right back.

All the neighborhood cats like to congregate in the side alley next to the convenience store. The old man sometimes places food there for the mangy things and the street lamp right next to the side alley has always been extra hot for some reason.

He and Deku used to come and pet the stray cats here as brats. They loved Deku’s stupidly endearing energy and appeasing demeanor, forcing him to pet them till the sun settled below the horizon and he definitely should’ve gone home for dinner. They loved the warmth of Katsuki’s hands, quirked to be just the right side of toasty.

They never really stopped coming here, for some reason. Even after Deku never developed a quirk. Even after Katsuki didn’t take Deku’s hand in that river.

It was one of the rare truces they shared between them after Kacchan had stayed Kacchan and Izuku became Deku.

Katsuki would endure the old man’s harsh glares as he silently petted cats with Deku in some grimy alleyway.

As he passes by the window of the convenience store, the old man catches his eyes; that look could send anyone lesser running for the hills, but Katsuki scoffs, feeling oddly settled. Does he know about Deku? They always seemed to get along, but it’s not like the old man showed up for the funeral. Would he be sad to know the young boy who likes cats would never step foot in that side alley again?

He thinks back to the last time he’d run into Deku here. It must’ve been a little more than a year ago.

Has it really been that long?

Katsuki had noticed that he’d stopped running into Deku here eventually. He’d asked about it once -- more like demanded -- and Deku had given him some mumbling nonsense answer. But as long as the nerd wasn’t getting himself injured or kil- it wasn’t any of Katsuki’s business. They didn’t have that sort of relationship -- not anymore. So he’d buried his curiosity the same way he’d buried a lot of things: deep in his chest burning at the edges of his ribcage.

He’d wait, watching and listening for the pieces to fit together.

Now the curiosity burns brighter and it’s harder to squash into the cavities of his chest.

Katsuki sits on top of an old crate. Immediately, a fluffy black cat meanders over to him, blinking its green eyes at him expectantly as it swishes its tail. “Yeah, yeah,” he grouses, wiping the sweat off his palms before petting the things’ head.

A few more cats take notice and rush over, a tabby hopping into his lap and purring up at him.

“T-that one really likes you, Kacchan,” Deku starts, sitting on the ground next to Katsuki’s crate. It’ll probably dirty the pants of his school uniform and there are some things a person can never wash from fabric.

Katsuki doesn’t say anything. He barely tilts his head. He can hardly breathe.

He just keeps the simple motion of petting the black cat in front of him.

“Cats have always really liked Kacchan! Remember when we were kids and that fat gray one tried to follow you all the way to your house? Auntie Mitsuki was so mad when we tried to bring it inside,” Deku says, his voice jarringly cutting through the silence as he begins to ramble. “I don’t know what we were thinking, haha! I think our plan was to just hide it in your room forever and hope no one noticed. I liked the name Mighty! I remember you wanted to name it King Murder Cat cause it had such sharp claws…”

Katsuki has probably lost his mind. This is the punishment he gets after everything he’s done to Deku. Being haunted with a fucking hallucination of him for the rest of eternity.

Or his ghost.

Or-

“If you really want to be a hero that badly, there actually might be another way. Just pray that you'll be born with a quirk in your next life, and take a swan dive off the roof of the building.”

No. No, no, no. The idea of that being even remotely true makes him want to rip something out of his chest and leave it bleeding on the pavement.

“Deku, what the hell are you doing here mumbling for?” Are the first words he says.

Putting his hands up in surrender and waving them around, Deku immediately stops his muttering storm and apologizes, “A-ah, I’m sorry, Kacchan! Usually, you’d yell at me, but this time you looked okay with me talking to you so I just thought- well, um- never mind!”

Yeah, he’s lost it.

Katsuki turns to look at him -- actually looks. The black cat makes a mrrrp noise as it slinks behind his legs and rests its head against his calf.

Deku’s uncomfortably sitting there now, head resting on his knees as he curls into himself. A scruffy cat paws at the ground near him before flicking its tail in front of his face. His green hair is as messy as usual, sticking up haphazardly like he’s never bothered with a comb in his life. And his eyes, almost an eerily bright green, are marred with the beginnings of dark circles. His smattering of freckles are stark against pale skin.

He does seem pale -- really pale. And Katsuki wonders if Deku were to stand under the lamp post, if he'd come across as translucent.

Deku’s gakuran is clean. The last time Katsuki had seen the thing, it was fucking drenched.

But it seems untouched. By grime, by blood, by tears, by time.

Katsuki glances at the window of the convenience store and only one silhouette glances back.

“What are you doing here?” Katsuki repeats, his voice softer this time. It still sounds rough to him, the way each syllable scrapes his throat like gravel.

Deku starts to unfurl a bit, tilting his head in a questioning manner. “Kacchan?”

“You haven’t come to the alley in a while,” Katsuki decides to add.

It’s bizarrely conversational. Katsuki and Deku haven’t done this in a long time. Their words are sharp and brisk, and passive mumbling.

“Unless there’s some villain fight, you go straight home now, right?” Katsuki continues, and Deku unfurls more and more, legs sprawled out on the pavement.

Katsuki doesn’t want to think about why he knows that to be true.

“It’s just-” Deku cuts himself off with a sigh, “Everywhere is so quiet. And I- I dunno. Home feels weird.”

“Hm.”

Deku, whether he’s a hallucination or ghost or something entirely different, should fucking hate him. He should be angry; he should want to yell at him; he should want to curse him into the ground.

Not whatever this is… stilted conversation neither of them are used to.

And Katsuki should go back home, away from this. He should tell Deku to get lost and then sign himself up for the psych ward.

They both sit there as the air gets colder and the sun continues to set.

Deku’s been looking at him, curiosity and confusion alight in his eyes. “Is it okay that I’m here? I’m sorry if you got used to being alone with the cats and now I’m interrupting you, Kacchan!”

Katsuki thinks on that for a while, until it looks as though Deku regrets ever speaking in the first place. Before Deku begins to stutter out an apology, Katsuki responds, “Yeah, whatever. Home feels weird for me too.”

Katsuki doesn’t quite know what he’d been expecting when he finally steps back into Aldera Junior High two weeks later.

He goes in through the back. Everyone’s acting the same, though the energy seems more reserved. No one approaches him. Not even his lackeys.

Apparently, there had been an anti-bullying assembly while he was out.

His homeroom teacher talks to him after class: how sorry he is Katsuki had to go through that, how he’s here to support Katsuki and his powerful quirk in any way, to not let this get to him because he has such a bright future ahead of him.

Everyone treats him with sympathy. No one even mentions Deku’s name.

It’s sickening. And then sickness gives way to a guilt that threatens to crush him till he pushes it down into his chest. It’s not like Katsuki’s any better.

Most days, he trains with his quirk after school. Instead, he heads in the direction of the convenience store.

Katsuki tries to pick up on the whys and whens of running into Deku. There doesn’t seem to be one.

He’s been going to the side alley next to the convenience store every day after school. The old man still glares at him -- unrelentingly petty. But if Katsuki didn’t know any better, he’d say he also looks concerned at this point.

Deku’s shown up twice more.

He doesn’t act like he’s gone. He acts… normal. Well, as normal as someone like Deku can be.

He rambles about pro heroes and stutters over his apologies and mutters up storms that could knock down trees. He’s always in his perfectly tidy gakuran which, honestly, looks even better than it used to. He can’t stop looking at his dark freckles.

Is this normal -- ghost, hallucination, whatever -- behavior?

Don’t ghosts typically haunt the last place they were in? Shouldn’t Deku be haunting Aldera for all of eternity? Not slinking around random alleys, chatting it up with Katsuki.

Or is he just haunting Katsuki? He had been the last person to see him before he-

But it’s not like Katsuki sees him all the time. It almost feels as though he’s just… running into him. Just like it’s always been. Paths that never seem to stop crossing. Threads so intertwined that they’re impossible to unravel.

Once, in the quiet of night, when he’s sure his parents are fast asleep, Katsuki sits at the very edge of his bed and calls out Deku’s name into the darkness. If Deku’s something his mind conjured up to fuck with him then maybe he could control it more? Have Deku appear in anything other than that fucking gakuran for a start.

Can ghosts be summoned like this?

Either way, a “Kacchan!” isn’t shouted in return. The quiet of night stays quiet.

The soft hum of insects chirping.

Whispers of wind through tree branches against his window.

The clock ticks towards infinity.

And the half moon’s light piercing his desk, dancing across an untouched, waterlogged notebook.

Katsuki tucks himself into bed and pretends he never tried in the first place.

Sometimes, Deku shows up again at the koi fish pond right next to Aldera. It’s the place Katsuki first saw him -- after the funeral.

He had fiercely wondered why there of all places after he realized running into Deku wasn’t going to be a one time thing. He couldn’t figure it out until he stepped back into class that first day and looked out the window and realized he never wanted to scream so badly in his life.

Katsuki sits at that koi fish pond every day before school. He goes on his morning run so early, the sun is nowhere near close to rising, and leaves for school just as his parents are waking up for work. And he walks into class a minute before the teacher calls for attendance.

Deku seems more subdued at the koi fish pond. He spends more time just… looking at him. Analyzing him. There’s something about those huge green eyes staring straight into him that Katsuki finds unnerving. Usually, it’s followed by bouts of praise which pisses him off to hear from someone looking down on him. Now, Katsuki’s not sure how to feel about it.

He just feels something weird thump in his ribcage.

Deku follows him to class too, but disappears along the way, his muttering fading into the air.

Do ghosts not know they’re gone? Or is this his mind’s twisted way of denying the fact that Deku is-

Katsuki doesn’t know which one he prefers.

He eats lunch alone on Aldera’s rooftop.

The school administration was meant to close off the area, but apparently they haven’t gotten to it yet. They’ve been slow about a lot of things. Maybe it’s just easier for everyone to forget.

His food tastes like ash in his mouth, but he eats it anyway; he needs to maintain a certain nutritional intake in order to keep up with his physical training. But it’s not like he’s been putting in much effort into training recently anyway.

Him, a hero? How can Katsuki win if he couldn’t reach Deku in time? How can he save anyone if he couldn’t save Deku?

When it’s all his fault. When everything is his fault. When he’s the one who told him to-

One time Deku shows up there.

They sit beside one another and Deku doesn’t mutter a single word.

Katsuki throws his lunch out before heading to class.

A few more weeks pass and then Deku surprises him with a question.

They’re walking home together from school.

Katsuki had said he’d walk Deku to his apartment. He’d chosen a path that followed the edges of Musutafu; it had minimal walking traffic and no prying eyes to scare the echoes of Deku away. Even if it meant strolling next to a trash-filled beach.

They’ve been walking for hours now.

The sun has been slowly dropping down towards the horizon and the changing angles of light slanting over Katsuki and Deku are almost set to fade in a canvas of pastel oranges and pinks.

Deku doesn’t question the time, but he does wonder, “You’ve been a lot nicer to me recently, Kacchan. I- uhm, it’s not that I’m not grateful! You have no idea what this means to me. I just- well, why now?”

If by “a lot nicer,” Deku just means not pushing him around anymore. Just letting him hang around and not running for the nearest shrink.

Deku and Katsuki have always been something, but he wasn’t a good friend before. And he’s not suddenly one now.

“Someone needs to watch out for your nerdy ass,” Katsuki answers, his tongue heavy in his mouth. “You’d trip over thin air and wind up caught in a villain fight.”

“Ah, I wouldn’t! That time I tripped, I just ended up in a fountain. The villains didn’t even notice me,” Izuku defends weakly.

“If you’re going to go near fights, you better pay closer attention to your surroundings,” Katsuki lectures as he watches the last fading rays of light. It can get cold at night. He really hates the cold.

Deku stops walking, his feet stuttering to a halt. Katsuki turns back to look at him, to yell at him for almost tripping when he just reproached him.

“I didn’t want to bring it up because I didn’t want to argue with you. But you should know, Kacchan, my dream is to still be a hero,” Deku declares with the most steadfast resolve Katsuki’s ever seen in him. His eyebrows are drawn together above burning, green eyes. His hands make fists at his side. “My goals haven’t changed.”

‘So then why did you do it?’ Katsuki wants to scream at him. ‘Why did you do this to me? To Auntie Inko? To yourself? How could you do it? You’ve always had a hero’s heart, so why the hell did you do it?’

It’s all a messy, jumbled knot of threads in his chest. Katsuki hears his dreams and all he can think about is how Deku had been looking down on him all these years. His weak, useless childhood best friend, who spent more time scribbling away notes than putting any effort into training his body, who thought he could get into the same hero course Katsuki’s striving for.

Deku, who’s kinder and more compassionate than anyone Katsuki’s ever met. Who would do anything to help those around him no matter what.

Deku, who’s quirkless and yet, has always felt so far ahead of him.

Deku, who’s always been there to praise him and defy him at every step.

Deku, who’s never given up, despite it all. Despite the shitty hand in life. Despite the world’s indifference. Despite Aldera’s mistreatment. Despite Katsuki. Despite it all.

Deku, who still killed-

“Kacchan?” Deku still looks determined, but the concern and hesitation is evident in his eyes as he takes a step towards Katsuki.

He scowls and takes a step back and then his feet force him to keep walking. He ignores the sweltering heat in his chest. He hears Deku hurry to catch up to him. “You’re still a weak, defenseless Deku,” Katsuki says, his voice hard like pavement.

Deku blanches like he hasn’t said those words hundreds of times over the years. “I- I know that, Kacchan-”

“But you don’t have to be,” Katsuki finishes, refusing to glance over at Deku.

“I- huh?”

Katsuki nods, almost to himself. “Starting tomorrow at dawn, I’m training you. Here, on this beach.”

“Wah- really?!”

Katsuki feels a brush of air as Deku leaps up beside him. He glares down at Deku’s expression of wonder. “Fucking calm down.”

“Kacchan’s amazing.”

When tomorrow comes and Deku doesn’t show up, Katsuki tries not to feel disappointed.

He doesn’t blast anything to smithereens. He does throw a rusty microwave directly into a pile of heaping metal.

Katsuki spends the following mornings cleaning up Takoba Beach. It’s unbelievable that at one point, the park used to actually be clean and safe to use given just how much junk people have left over the years. Vaguely, Katsuki recalls coming here with his parents when he was a little brat; he’d been a natural at making well structured sand castles.

He’d show up at the playground the next day to tell Deku all about the headquarters he’d made for their hero agency. Deku would give him the brightest smile.

Cleaning the junkyard of a beach is back breaking work. Katsuki tries to figure out what can be salvaged or recycled, but most of it is literally worthless trash. There’s one morning when some twig of a man watches him work from a bench across the beach.

And four days later, Deku shows up with a bright smile, ready and eager to get started.

“Ready?” Katsuki’s eyes are piercing.

Deku nods like a bobblehead. “I’m ready, Kacchan!” He takes off the suit jacket of his gakuran. It can’t be comfortable to exercise in, but if Deku doesn’t comment on it then neither will Katsuki.

“We’re going to start with a half hour run,” Katsuki instructs, directing his gaze to where the waves hit the sand, where there’s no trash to trip over. “Running on sand requires increased effort, but it’s better on your joints. Try and keep up, Deku!”

“I just got hit with the sudden feeling that this is Kacchan’s new way to torment me,” Deku mumbles under his breath.

But Katsuki’s become so aware of everything Deku, he picks up on it easily. He’s wiping the sweat off his hands before he even starts exercising. “Oi, you deaf? I said to get a move on!”

“Ah! Right, Kacchan!”

It’s almost comical watching Deku flail around after him. It reminds him of warm afternoons playing in the forest, Deku always chasing after his back.

They’d play pretend near that stupid river and hop across the hot mud to the water, imagining days in the future where heroes would face off against pirates and they controlled the strength of the tides with their quirks -- warm sunlit water lapping at their knees. Katsuki had always been a natural at catching crayfish, whose tiny sharp claws sent waves of terror through Deku; he’d also been a natural at skipping stones, something which Deku had been embarrassingly terrible at doing.

Deku once shyly asked if he’d teach him.

They eventually finish their run. Deku’s whining and panting on the ground as Katsuki laughs at him.

Katsuki teaches him a few different cool down stretches and, it turns out, Deku is surprisingly flexible. He wipes the sweat off his hands again. Then he starts going through the motions of his usual workout routine. Even though Deku’s whining, he’s got a determined spark in his eyes and he doesn’t protest any of Katsuki’s instructions -- and Katsuki knows his workout is brutal.

There’s something about Deku and perseverance.

‘So then why? Why?’

After they’re done, the sun risen into rolling fat clouds, shimmering light against the waves lapping at the sand, Deku’s halfway towards passing out. He’s all sprawled out limbs and heaving chest and flushed face -- it should be near impossible to get the sand out of his fluffy hair.

Katsuki continues sorting through the junk while Deku catches his breath.

Deku gives a sharp inhale before gasping out, “Thanks, Kacchan. For this. I feel stronger already!”

Katsuki scoffs, picking up a broken rocking chair and moving it aside. “Don’t get cocky, damn nerd. You’re still way behind me.”

“I know that, Kacchan! You don’t have to keep reminding me,” Deku replies casually.

Friendly. It should be jarring. It should be horrifying.

It’s like something gut wrenching is itching beneath Katsuki’s skin and yet, something soft settles in his chest. Like there’s something still in there that’s salvageable.

“I should research how other pro heroes train! I’m sure their regimens are modified to suit their quirks, but it could be helpful to get some tips,” Deku says as he watches the clouds roll by.

Katsuki’s hands pause. Deku doesn’t notice his red eyes piercing into him.

“Yeah. You do that.”

As the months go by, Katsuki and Deku keep up their routine: the koi fish pond, the side alley, the beach park. Day by day, week by week, hour by hour -- Deku passes through them, fluttering in and out of Katsuki’s life.

Sometimes he shows up at different places, echoes of him for moments at a time before Katsuki turns his head and he’s all alone again.

His reflection in the window of their classroom when he stayed after school to clean.

His footsteps and muttering echoing behind him on the way to their neighborhood park.

The sound of his laughter in the wind. The train’s whistle. The radio’s music. Everything.

They’re walking along the beach one day, back towards Deku’s apartment -- though they never seem to get there --, letting the water dry on their skin, the salt matting their hair making it feel dry, the sand caking on their feet and legs. After months of brutal training, Deku’s strength and endurance have improved tremendously, but he still looks like the same scrawny nerd he’s always been -- cheeks still chubby and arms still bony.

Deku’s voice is soft and hesitant. “Kacchan, can I ask you something?”

It’s like ice has been shot through Katsuki’s veins. “What do you want, Deku?”

“I- I don’t really know if I can remember the last time I saw you use your quirk,” Deku says. His eyes don’t move up to meet Katsuki’s gaze; he just continues staring at Katsuki’s hands. “I didn’t really think too much of it at first, but… you’ve always let little pops of explosions out when your palms get too sweaty. You used it all the time! But just today, you’ve washed your hands with ocean water three times already… and you keep wiping your hands against your pants. I noticed that your palms seem cracked and irritated from dryness recently, which is weird since you’re so meticulous, Kacchan. It might be a good idea to invest in a-”

“Can you shut it, Deku?” Katsuki cuts him off, his voice rough as it catches in his throat. He doesn’t want to hear anymore. Can’t hear anymore of it.

Deku blinks at him all wide-eyed. “Right. Sorry, Kacchan.”

Katsuki sighs heavily. A part of him wants to just ignore the question and head back home.

He moves to stand closer to Deku. On instinct, he almost wipes his palms before stopping himself. “Who would want to be a sweaty mess anyway?”

Deku’s green eyes startle in surprise. “But Kacchan, you’ve always been super proud of your quirk!”

“I know,” Katsuki scoffs, “it’s because my quirk is fucking awesome.”

‘It’s the kind of quirk I could do anything with,’ Katsuki thinks. ‘And it still wasn’t enough to save you.’

Deku’s usually one to fill the silence with his incessant muttering and Deku noises, but now, he lets it sit, lets it fill the air between them -- ghost-quiet.

“Fucking nosy stalker. It’s none of your damn business, Deku.” The words ring hollow, even to Katsuki. Deku might be the last person he wants to tell this to, but he hasn’t told this to anyone yet. The searching look his mother gives him, the shared glances between his parents at the dinner table -- he can tell they’re worried. But Katsuki doesn’t need their worry or their pity. He doesn’t need to talk about anything. Especially not with Deku.

Deku doesn’t pry his chest open and let his heart crash into the sand. He doesn’t push or prod or force anything out of him.

It’s Deku’s acceptance.

Of Katsuki. Still.

Despite everything -- still.

No matter what, Deku stays the same.

Maybe one day, he’ll finally teach Deku how to properly toss a stone.

More often than not, Katsuki finds himself alone at Takoba Beach.

It’s the sort of quiet that Katsuki prefers; he can scream at all the junk he trashes and curse the extras who left it there in the first place, and the only response he’ll get in return is the waves crashing against the shore.

He finds that, oddly, he’s grown to prefer Deku’s mumbling as background noise.

But this is better than the whispers and gossip of Aldera, or the stifling atmosphere of home.

That old twig of a man eventually introduces himself as Yagi Toshinori. He’s tall, with sunken eyes and blond hair bursting from his head. He seems… familiar. And not just because Katsuki’s noticed him skulking about the past few months.

“Finally ready to say something, ya bag of bones?” Katsuki growls out as the old man approaches, before he’s even gotten a word out.

Katsuki’s surprised with himself, that he never bothered approaching the man to yell at him for whatever it is he’s doing. Because whatever it is, it’s fucking creepy. It’s as though they’ve been at a strange impasse, existing around each other without ever acknowledging it.

And Katsuki’s hardly a sociable person. These days, he doesn’t bother talking to many people outside of, well… Deku.

“Just admiring a young man hard at work,” he responds with an amicable smile. It’s as comforting as it is sad. Something about this man just exudes weary. “This beach has been polluted for a long time. It’s good to see someone taking care of their community.”

Katsuki’s intentions aren’t as noble, but can hardly say the real reason why without unloading something far deeper. Something he doesn’t think he’ll ever share with anyone.

“Not doing this for anyone,” Katsuki grunts.

‘Deku maybe,’ he thinks.

“Are you training?” he asks next. “I’ve… read about your story in the paper -- what occurred at your junior high school. I heard you’re aiming for the hero course at U.A.”

U.A. His dream school. Katsuki’s head has felt so foggy recently, it’s like he’s hardly thought of it.

The school he’d threatened Deku to never apply to.

Katsuki wipes his palms against his shirt. “So what?”

The man’s eyes glance around and he sighs, bone-deep heavy, and says, “I’m actually a member of U.A.’s faculty this upcoming year. My name’s Yagi Toshinori.”

“Bakugou Katsuki.” Though he’s sure the man already knows it.

Skeletor keeps showing up after that, and now, he offers more than imploring glances. He tells Katsuki about U.A. and all it has to offer and the things he sees on his walks. Sometimes, he’ll try and help him clean up when he’s not too busy spewing up fucking blood. Luckily, the twig man doesn’t show up often enough to keep Deku away.

He’s old and injured and feeble. He knows what happened from the news, but he doesn’t know Katsuki. Not from before.

It’s comforting, in a way.

Once, Katsuki tells him about the stray cats he likes to pet with a childhood friend.

Some of the junk Katsuki finds at Takoba Beach is actually useful; or could be made useful with a creative hand. Deku seems to have a keen eye for that sort of thing, Katsuki notices. Maybe it’s from his years of analyzing heroes and their support items, but Katsuki feels as though Deku’s always been perceptive in his own way.

“This metal has a really high melting point,” Deku mentions excitedly, his face beaming. “It’d be the perfect alloy for something like your gauntlets! Remember the designs we came up with when you first got your quirk? I mean, it was a long time ago so-”

“I remember, Deku,” Katsuki responds. If he’s being honest, he still has those gauntlets as a part of the design for his hero costume -- added to his U.A. application and everything.

Deku rubs the back of his head, a light flush crossing his face. “I’ve sort of researched them more! I was thinking of a more compact design that could still store a decent amount of your nitroglycerin. It’s in my latest hero analysis notebook! I’ve got a few different ideas that I could show you, Kacchan.”

Deku’s hero analysis for the future. That fucking notebook.

Charred, waterlogged notebook that’s made its home on Katsuki’s desk -- still untouched.

This whole time, Deku has still been thinking of Katsuki, analyzing his quirk and fighting techniques and coming up with ideas for his hero costume. Katsuki’s always known about Deku’s stalker habits, but he’d never realized his analysis extended to wanting to help him.

No matter what, Deku in some way, had always silently been reaching his hand out.

Katsuki nods slowly, swallowing hard. “Next time.”

It’s his father who ends up talking to him.

Katsuki’s about to head off to the side alley next to the convenience store. The shop owner now looks at him with something akin to understanding; they still haven’t spoken and Katsuki prefers it that way -- at least it isn’t pity.

“Katsuki, you haven’t been spending much time at home,” his father starts, adjusting his glasses. He’s sitting on the couch in their living room with a cup of coffee in one hand. “Your mother and I, we just want to make sure you’re doing okay.”

He doesn’t say anything, letting the words wash over him like waves crashing against hot sand.

“You’ve been quieter recently and it’s like we hardly ever see you. Mitsuki and I understand if you need space; we just want to help you, okay? So if you need to talk to someone… it doesn’t have to be us,” his father continues. “If you need to see a therapist-”

“No.” Katsuki’s tone is harsher than he wanted it to be. Fuck, he needs to get out of here and wash his hands.

His father gives him a considering look. “Alright, if you’re sure, Katsuki. But the option is always open to you.”

It’s like Katsuki’s a ghost in his own home. It’s fitting.

“You can come around my house if you want to, Deku,” Katsuki brings up one day.

They’re out by the river, feet soaked in water and mud against their calves. Katsuki hadn’t expected Deku to show up here too -- and yet-

Deku blinks up at him in surprise. “Really? Like the sleepovers from when we were kids!”

“Not still afraid of thunder, are you? Going to come crawling into my bed, Deku?” Katsuki teases and finds himself flushing slightly at his own words.

Deku’s own blush is furious. “No! I haven’t been scared of thunder in a long time, I promise,” he insists, covering his face with his hands. “We can watch the All Might movies! Or maybe the cartoons. We could have an All Might marathon!”

Katsuki nods. “A new All Might movie came out in theaters last week. I’m sure we could find it online.”

“Are you sure? I don’t remember hearing about any new All Might content; I think I’d remember that,” Deku ponders after a moment, cheeks all puffed up as he thinks about it really hard.

“It wasn’t an All Might movie. I was thinking about something else. Let’s watch the old All Might cartoons.”

“That’ll be a great way to start the marathon!”

“Yeah.”

“We should ask Auntie Mitsuki and Uncle Masaru if it’s okay that I come over.”

“… Yeah.”

Katsuki decides it’s finally time to toss that notebook in the drawer of his desk.

Yagi Toshinori is All Might.

This whole time. This entire fucking time.

All Might.

All Might.

He tells him about a boy with green hair and constellations of freckles and a roof. A different roof.

A fierce battle. A life-changing injury. A quirk that can be passed down. A successor.

All Might tells him of the words he spoke to that boy, the harsh reality he presented, before leaving him there. He tells him of the remorse he felt and how he had wanted to apologize. He tells him of dreams he once had -- and of how anyone can be a hero.

Pain. Heartache. Guilt. Regret.

‘I know those feelings well,’ Katsuki realizes faintly.

“I went to Young Midoriya’s funeral. I wanted to give my condolences and… repent,” All Might says, a heaviness sinking his shoulders down. “That’s where I saw you: the young man who tried to save him. Watching you and then getting to talk with you, seeing the amount of good in you, even through the grief, if there’s anyone who’s worthy of being my successor, it is you, Young Bakugou.”

None of All Might’s words make sense.

Nothing makes any fucking sense.

How is it even possible to have a quirk that’s transferable? How can the exhausted skeleton of a man in front of him be the same person he’d grown up admiring with Deku? How could All Might say that to Deku? The same words he’d been telling him all these years.

Katsuki’s eyes widen. It had never made any sense to him -- that signature on the very last page of Deku’s notebook. ‘Was All Might the last person he spoke with? Were his dreams being crushed by his hero the last conversation Deku ever had?’

Katsuki’s burning. His entire body is on fire. A lit match and a can of kerosene. His body moves on its own; before he fully processes it, his fist slams into All Might’s face. He wants to snarl every curse he can think of. To keep hitting till his hands are battered and his chest is cold.

Anything to numb the explosion waiting to happen in his ribcage.

It’d be easier -- blaming All Might. But Katsuki can’t.

He’s as much to blame as All Might.

It still feels good punching him.

“You can keep your shitty quirk, All Might,” Katsuki grows out, barely concealed panic coating his tongue. “I refuse. So find someone else.”

His feet are moving before he has the chance to think.

For the first time in ten months, Katsuki ignores the disgusting, wet feeling on his palms -- his quirk ignites. A fireworks display blasting away trash and debris till all that’s left is fumes of smoke and heat carried in his hands.

And then Katsuki goes to take U.A.’s entrance exam.

A week later, Katsuki is accepted into U.A. with the highest score on the general exam.

He tosses his acceptance letter on the kitchen table where he knows his parents will find it. Deku is the only person he tells.

Katsuki waits. He waits at the koi fish pond and in the side alley and at the beach. The rooftop. The fucking river. His bedroom with a laptop open to his favorite movie.

He waits for a week.

And thinks. And sits with his thoughts.

For so long, so furiously, Katsuki had wanted to be the only one accepted into U.A. from their smalltime junior high. And now…

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Katsuki’s going to be alone at U.A. Deku isn’t going to be there, standing behind him and calling out his childhood nickname.

Instead, he’s trapped in half-trashed beaches and grimy side alleys filled with strays and the darkness of his bedroom. Deku will never meet his new classmates and ask them all his stupid nerdy questions. He won’t be there to smile at him under the cherry blossoms at his graduation -- he’s never going to have his own graduation. When he becomes a pro hero, he’ll never defeat a villain and turn to the crowd and see Deku’s beaming face and notebook.

They’ll never do things friends are meant to do: waste money at the arcade and trash bad movies at the theater and go to food courts at shitty malls. He doubts Deku’s done any of these things before. Now, he’ll never get the chance.

No matter what he does, he can’t go back. He can’t fix this.

“Congratulations, Kacchan!” Deku says with the brightest smile. It’s almost cute, how excited he is, buzzing around with barely contained energy. He’s kicking sand in the air as he jumps around the now cleaned beach. “I knew you would do it! And with the highest score too. Kacchan’s amazing!”

He closes his eyes and tries to imagine Deku in a U.A. uniform.

Deku would probably look so fucking awkward and nerdy in it. And he’d probably keep wearing his obnoxiously bright red shoes. Does Deku even know how to tie a tie? He seems like the kind of person who would suck at it. Maybe he’d get Auntie Inko to do it for him.

“You’ll have to tell me all about it! I want to write down everything they tested, but I think I left my notebook somewhere. I can’t remember where I put it. But that doesn’t matter, I’m really happy for you, Kacchan!”

Katsuki got accepted into U.A. He’s going to study to become a hero at All Might’s alma mater.

The card in his pocket feels so, so heavy.

There’s only so much space in his ribcage. And suddenly, everything he’s spent the past ten months burying comes bursting out.

“… Kacchan? Kacchan?”

“Izuku,” Kacchan starts, his voice like gravel against pavement. Or like a body against pavement. ‘Izuku’ is a sweet name, but it sounds sharp on his tongue. Rough. Uneven.

Immediately, Izuku falls silent, mouth softly hanging open.

“I know it’s too late to say this to you, Izuku, but I have to tell you,” Kacchan continues. He doesn’t really know what he’s saying. He’s thought about it hundreds of times over the past few months. And then he buried his thoughts. But now his mind feels oddly blank. And his heart is an open wound spilling all over the sand.

“I always looked down on you, just because you were quirkless, you were always far away behind me, yet…I felt that you were somehow miles ahead of me, Izuku. I hated that, I didn’t want to feel like that and I didn’t want to recognize that. It’s why I grew so distant from you and always tried to beat you down. Izuku…”

Izuku. Izuku. Izuku. Izuku.

It’s like Kacchan can’t stop saying his name. Like it’s the last chance he’ll ever get.

“I thought you’d been looking down on me this whole time. But the past year has shown me how wrong I was, Izuku: about you, about me, everything. I took your admiration as pity and your kindness as patronizing, and that was because of my own weaknesses that I didn’t want to acknowledge.”

Izuku lets him speak, the pastels of the sunrise phasing through him.

“I know it probably doesn’t mean anything telling you all of this now. I’m sorry for everything I’ve done, Izuku.” Kacchan’s voice breaks. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, Izuku. For everything. It’s my own fault; it’s because I’m so weak that now you’re-”

Izuku’s watching him with the most understanding green eyes. And at that moment, it doesn’t feel condescending or haughty or infuriating. It feels like coming home.

Izuku is beautiful.

Kacchan’s always known he’s cute in his own little nerdy way, but there, against the backdrop of soft peaches and muted tangerines brushed against the sky, Izuku really is beautiful. His freckles stand out starker against translucent skin -- fuck, he’s got so many of them. Izuku looks good in the color orange.

It’s the way the sunrise hits him. Light dances through his small frame.

Kacchan realizes Izuku’s fading. If he keeps letting his truth tumble out, if he keeps cracking his ribcage open, if he keeps bleeding from his heart -- what will Izuku fade into? Will he go somewhere Katsuki can’t chase after him?

“It’s my fault, Izuku. That you’re not getting better,” Kacchan says, breath catching in his throat. His chest heaves like he’s about to throw up, but the only thing tumbling from his mouth is, “Izuku. Izuku, Izuku. I promise I’ll spend the rest of our lives making it up to you.”

Kacchan doesn’t even realize his feet have been moving until he’s standing right in front of Izuku, only inches between them.

“Kacchan…”

He steps forward. “I’ll do anything, Izuku. For us to keep standing next to each other.”

Izuku leans in and murmurs, “Kacchan, don’t you know I’ve already forgiven you. I have for a long time.”

He probably doesn’t even know what he’s forgiving, but something about him seems to solidify. The outline of his figure gets darker. Like there’s a weight to him.

Kacchan rushes forward and tightly wraps his arms around Izuku’s smaller frame. “Then, fucking stay.”

And in that moment, Deku feels real.

Oh. Katsuki is so fucking crazy.

It’s the first time they’ve touched in ten months. And Deku is warm. He’s warm and his skin is supple. His squishy cheeks rub against Katsuki’s neck and his hair tickles where Katsuki’s tucked his nose into it -- it doesn’t smell like anything, but the strands are soft. His gakuran is stiff, but it gives easily under the weight of Katsuki’s strength.

“I didn’t use my quirk for a long time,” Katsuki says into Deku’s hair. Deku makes a motion to look up at him, but Katsuki’s grip is unrelenting. “Because the feeling of my hands being wet, it reminded me of them being drenched in something that wasn’t sweat. And I kept flashing back to that moment. But if I want to protect you, if I want to save you, if I want to be the number one hero, there’s nothing I wouldn’t give.”

‘Please, let me give up these memories,’ Katsuki begs.

“I’m glad you told me, Kacchan,” Deku says, his breath puffing against his neck. “Thank you for trusting me.”

Katsuki’s hands grow tighter, taking in the sensation of having Deku in his arms.

“Kacchan, do you think I could ever be a hero… even without a quirk?” Deku’s question is so quiet, it’s almost inaudible.

It’s the sort of question Katsuki never thought he’d answer because it’s the sort of question Katsuki never thought would be asked to him. “If anyone could do it, Deku, it’s you,” Katsuki says as his fingers dig into Deku’s sides. “I didn’t want you to apply to U.A. back then because a part of me knew, that if anyone could defy the odds, it’d be you, Deku. You and your heart.”

Deku leans back just enough to beam up at him. He’s crying and Katsuki belatedly realizes just how soaked his shirt is. “Thank you… Kacchan. You have no idea how much I needed to hear those words.”

Katsuki swallows hard. “I know.”

“I’m going to keep training hard!” Deku’s eyes are bright and eager and determined. They spark in a way that makes Katsuki’s heart thud painfully in his chest. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Each blow is harder than the last. “I’ll keep analyzing heroes and I’ll come up with support gear! So, please keep taking care of me, Kacchan.”

Katsuki imagines a world where things are better. Some perfect world where the stars aligned and Deku was around long enough for All Might to notice his heroic potential -- to give him the quirk he never got to have. He imagines them going to U.A. together. Being heroes together.

“I’ll apply to U.A. once I get better! Then we could be a hero duo, open up our own agency, like we dreamed of when we were kids-”

Katsuki leans down and captures Deku’s lips, swallowing the rest of his words. Deku’s lips are soft and plush, and they give in under Katsuki’s demand. Deku’s bright green eyes stare wide-eyed before fluttering shut. Before he too leans in and presses his hands on Katsuki’s back.

It’s their second kiss. And this time, it doesn’t taste like blood.

When Katsuki graduates from Aldera Junior High School, he doesn’t say goodbye to anyone.

He’s the top student in his grade. The only one who’d ever been able to keep up with him academically had been Deku.

‘And Deku’s not well enough to attend classes right now,’ Katsuki reminds himself.

He doesn’t talk to the principal or his teachers or his lackeys. People congratulate him and their words of praise are like static in his ear.

Katsuki sits beneath the sakura trees next to the koi fish pond, gentle cherry blossom petals floating on the water, soft ripples that the fish nudge at before languidly swimming away.

He sits alone with pink swept over him.

And when he returns home, Katsuki takes off his gakuran and shoves it into the very back of his closet. He’s worn it for the very last time.

Katsuki’s first year at U.A. isn’t anything like he thought it would be. But he’s known for a long time now, it wouldn’t be anything like he wanted it to be.

There’d been a rumor that All Might would be part of the faculty at U.A. this year, teaching the newest batch of hero hopefuls as their Foundational Hero Studies teacher. And he is a teacher, but he seems like he’s going to focus all his attention on the current third years. There’s a lot of gossip in the air and reporters barking at their front door; Katsuki listens, but he doesn’t participate in any of their inane drivel.

His academic classes are, by far, harder than Aldera’s had been, but Katsuki can handle it with ease. The hero classes are grueling work, pushing his body, mind, and quirk farther than he’s ever pushed it.

His classmates are fucking annoying morons.

But there are a few that are halfway competent; that Half and Half Bastard’s got a powerful enough quirk that he can actually keep up with him when he’s not completely half-assing it, and Ponytail’s one of the smartest people he’s ever met when she’s confident enough to speak up. Not competent enough that he needs them, but it’s enough to keep him on his toes.

Katsuki keeps to himself -- well, he tries to. There are a few idiots that just won’t leave him alone. Shitty Hair and Dunce Face follow him around like lost puppies that don’t know how to stay lost. And Raccoon Eyes and Tape Face are always pestering him about one thing or another.

Yelling at them doesn’t work. Ignoring them seems to spur them on. Insulting them just makes them whine.

“Don’t you morons have anything better to do?” Katsuki asks as he walks out of the classroom, said morons following behind him. “You’re all at the bottom of the class.”

“Hey! You don’t have to point it out like that!” Dunce Face protests, his expression dropping.

“So, where should we go?” Raccoon Eyes asks the group -- of which Katsuki is not a part of. “Maybe we should check out the mall! There’s a few stores I’ve been meaning to check out.”

Shitty Hair perks up. “That’d be fun! I do need to buy some new weights.”

“Hell no.” Katsuki picks up his pace. “I’m out of here.”

Tape Face nods and smirks, snapping his fingers. “Oh, yeah? Where are you headed then, Bakugou?”

“The beach,” Katsuki answers. He doesn’t feel a need to lie, but the second he hears cheering behind him, he realizes he shouldn’t have answered the question in the first place. Don’t feed the stray dogs, or something like that.

Dunce Face lights up. “Woah! The beach -- that’s kind of unexpected.”

“Unexpected and really fun!” Raccoon Eyes agreed. “I wanna go to the-”

“I’m going alone,” Katsuki insists, leaving the gates of U.A. and his classmates along with it.

Some of his other classmates are less obnoxious, but they’re fucking annoying in their own ways like Glasses and Round Face.

Don’t even get him started on that Half and Half Bastard.

He ends up getting paired with them one day while they’re doing rescue training at the USJ. They’re “saving” rescue dummies from a collapsed building when he pushes Round Face out of the way from falling debris. It’s not as bad as it could’ve been, but she ends up with a pretty bad scrape on her forearm regardless.

“Ow! I guess I should go see Recovery Girl when we get back to school,” Round Face says, prodding at her injury and then wincing again. “Thanks, Bakugou.”

Katsuki scowls. “Stop fucking touching it! And be more aware of your surroundings!”

Glasses chops his hand. “What a great reaction time! We should all take this as an indicator to display more diligence.”

Round Face pokes at her arm again, a crease of pain on her face.

“Give it here,” Katsuki demands.

She blinks slowly. Half and Half glances at them.

“Huh?”

“Your arm,” Katsuki clarifies like she’s a fucking dumbass -- because she is.

Round Face blinks again. “Uh, why? It’s already injured.”

‘What the fuck kind of a comment is that? What does she think I want to do?’ Katsuki shakes his head before pulling out the bandages and antiseptic he keeps on his belt.

Realizing what he means, Round Face’s mouth forms an ‘oh’ as she finally extends her arm out. Wordlessly, Katsuki takes care of the injury with ease, his movements steady and practiced.

“You know, Bakugou, I’m really grateful, but this is really surprising!” Round Face comments with wide eyes.

Katsuki snaps back, “What’s surprising is how much you all suck at everything.”

Glasses adjusts his, well, glasses. “I have to agree with Uraraka! Though your skills are very commendable, out of everyone in the class, I’d least expect you to… uh-”

“To carry first aid equipment,” Half and Half finishes, his expression blank as he stares at them.

“It’s a very good idea! I’ll have to make adjustments to my hero costume when we return to U.A. and see if I can add in some extra compartments to my armor,” Glasses continues enthusiastically. “As hero students of the prestigious U.A., we should all strive to be so well prepared for any heroic duties.”

Katsuki grunts. “You do that, Vice Pres.” He finishes tying off the last of the bandages, securing it firmly around Round Face’s forearm.

The best part about U.A. is telling Deku about it.

His questions are endless. He asks about his teachers, his classes, his training, his fucking eating habits; he mumbles about how he really needs to find his notebook to write this all down.

Deku’s fascinated and excited by all of it, and Katsuki can admit having pro heroes as teachers is pretty fucking cool. Though he doesn’t share the same amount of enthusiasm as Deku about the fact that Lunch Rush is in charge of his meals.

Deku beams at him when they’re at Takoba Beach together and Katsuki shows off a new move he’s been working on, offering suggestions that now, Katsuki takes. He laughs at the nicknames Katsuki comes up with for his classmates when they’re sitting side by side on Katsuki’s bed, the moonlight glowy on their skin.

When Katsuki tells him that he won the Sports Festival, Deku gives him the proudest grin through fat tears, apologizing for missing it and giving him a soft kiss on his cheek.

U.A. really isn’t anything like Katsuki thought it would be. It’s an incredible school. The best hero school in the country.

And it feels as though something is missing in it.

Katsuki’s first year is a fucking shitshow.

Not for him, specifically, really. But for U.A. and Japan and the world in general.

The League of Villains is persistent in targeting U.A.’s class of third years. They attack them during one of their rescue training sessions. Then harass them at a local mall.

The League and Stain permanently injure Glasses’ older brother.

A few weeks later, their Vice President shows up to class for the last time.

The desk behind Frog Girl sits empty, a permanent shadow in their classroom.

Shit really hits the fan when the third years’ summer training camp is attacked. A young boy dies and a student is kidnapped and then All Might -- their Symbol of Peace -- loses his quirk for all of the world to see.

When U.A. forces all the students into dormitories, Katsuki makes sure to extend an invitation to Deku.

Deku, of course, asks about the change, but he keeps the answer simple enough, something about the faculty wanting to keep an eye on them.

He doesn’t need to tell any of this to Deku.

“Kacchan, are you sure it’s okay that I’m visiting you so much?” Deku questions in concern as he looks through Katsuki’s bookshelf. The notebook is still in his drawer at home. “Maybe I should talk to Mr. Aizawa about it. I don’t want to distract you from your studies.”

“Don’t worry about it, nerd. Huh, you think I can’t be at the top of my class and hang out with your dumbass at the same time?”

‘If anything, you could stand to visit me more,’ Katsuki doesn’t voice.

“Haha, Kacchan’s amazing,” Deku responds.

Katsuki clears his throat, but his voice still comes out harsh. “You don’t need to talk to Mr. Aizawa, alright? I already talked to him so you don’t even need to think about it.”

“If you’re sure, Kacchan,” Deku says in a teasing voice, like he’s halfway into singing.

“I’m always right, Deku,” Katsuki responds. “Don’t underestimate me.”

“I’m not!” Deku laughs before an excited look crosses his face. “Can I ask you some more questions about your classmates?”

Katsuki groans. “Why do you want to know so much about those extras?”

“They’re not extras! They’re your friends, right?” Deku insists.

He scoffs. “Hell no!”

“Then they’re your classmates, at least, and they’re aiming to be heroes just like us! It’s interesting to hear about them,” Deku explains, a thoughtful look on his face as he purses his lips. “Ah, I wish I could meet them! I have so much I want to ask them about their quirks. And then I wouldn’t have to bother you so much.”

“I wish you could meet them too,” Katsuki murmurs, his words almost inaudible. He clears his throat before adding, “They’re busy. Most of them are fucking idiots; they need all the time they can to study. And you are a bother -- but I don’t mind it. So, don’t worry about it, Deku.”

“I guess it’s a good thing I don’t mind bothering you,” Deku responds, smiling cheekily. He sits down next to Katsuki on his bed and their thighs just barely touch.

Katsuki had hit a growth spurt recently. He’s grown a few centimeters since the beginning of the school year, growing into a body that’s been training extensively and rigorously, packing on hard muscle on top of hard muscle. He’s outgrown most of his clothes from junior high.

His thighs are almost twice the size of Deku’s own. Deku’s got a fucking thigh gap.

Has he always been this skinny?

“You could make friends with them,” Deku suggests. “Help them study or something! Based on what you’ve said, it sounds like they need it.”

“That sounds like torture, Deku,” Katsuki grunts, rolling his eyes. He presses his thigh against Deku. He’s gotten used to the fabric of his gakuran.

Deku knits his eyebrows together and sighs, “You don’t have to torture them, Kacchan.”

“Torture for me, you shitty nerd!” He snarls, resisting the urge to wack Deku over the head with his pillow.

His laugh is bright and infectious. “I know, I know. Just think about it, okay, Kacchan?”

If he presses further against his thigh, how will it feel? Is there enough of Deku here right now? “Yeah, whatever.”

“I’ve come up with some interesting ideas for a team up between Asui and Tokoyami, do you want to hear them?”

“Whatever ideas you got, they won’t work against me,” Katsuki comments, crossing his arms as he leans back against his bed, Deku following his motions. “I can defeat Bird Brain in five seconds.”

“Oh, so you could come up with something better?” Deku snarks, a coy smile painting his face.

Katsuki scowls, once again barely restraining himself from wacking Deku over the head with his pillow. “Okay, smartass. Think you can get all sassy with me? I’m good at everything.”

“Mhm, of course, Kacchan.”

“Let’s hear whatever nerdy ideas you got, Deku.”

“Oi! Half and Half Bastard,” Katsuki calls out as he passes the dorm’s shared living space. Immediately, everyone falls silent as they stare up at him in awe and curiosity. Half and Half simply blinks. “When you eat food, can you heat it up or cool it in your mouth?”

Half and Half blinks again, slowly this time. “Excuse me?”

“I have someone who wants to know,” Katsuki explains, not really explaining anything at all. “So?”

The room bursts into a flurry of shouted questions and heated gossip.

“I’m not saying anything else! And I have questions for all you extras!”

One day, his stupid gaggle of classmates follow him. They stare at him sitting alone on a clean beach, staring off into the lapping waves. They last five minutes before they get tired of spying on him and Dunce Face accidentally trips in the sand and makes a resounding smack.

Katsuki twists around and snarls, “What the fuck are you morons doing here?”

A flurry of shouting and apologies rushes past their lips. “You’ve been getting permission from Mr. Aizawa to leave more and more recently!” Raccoon Eyes hurries to explain, “We just got curious is all.”

Tape Arms awkwardly rubs the back of his head. “You never tell us anything and well, Mina and Kaminari got this idea in their head…”

“So, what? You decided to invade my privacy and follow me around like a bunch of pathetic losers?” Katsuki’s scowl is fierce.

Shitty Hair gives him a sympathetic glance, eyes filled with worry and remorse. “I’m so sorry, man, I tried to stop them-”

Katsuki growls. “Well, you did a shit job at it.”

“So…what are you doing alone at a random beach anyway?” Dunce Face asks after a moment of regretful silence.

Katsuki has no regrets as he doesn’t answer the question and blasts them all to hell.

When he doesn’t see Deku for a few days, he likes to return to their old spots if he can. It’s something, anything to change things up.

Maybe Deku doesn’t show up because it’s just one of those days. Or maybe it’s his classmates stepping over a line they have no right crossing.

The group grovels for about a month before Katsuki bothers forgiving them.

Just barely. They’re still not friends.

The war draws to a close. And nothing is the same ever again.

But to Katsuki, nothing’s been right for a long time.

The League of Villain’s reign of terror crosses through Japan and shakes Hero Society to its core. Pro Heroes retire in droves. Citizens are in a panic. Villains roam the streets.

Vaguely, Katsuki wonders what Glasses would think if he were here. But he hasn’t seen him since before he died in the streets of Hosu.

A third year named Toogata Mirio is revealed to be All Might’s worthy successor and the current wielder of One For All.

Midnight dies. Gran Torino dies. Endeavor dies.

Pro Heroes, citizens, and hero students alike. Sparkles doesn’t make it past the first five minutes.

Someone named Amajiki Tamaki is murdered in cold blood -- in the name of being the wielder of One For All’s closest person. Katsuki wonders what that would be like.

The members of the League all die.

At the end, Katsuki finds himself fighting side by side with All Might.

And All Might dies with an apology on his lips.

Katsuki swallows whatever’s caught in his throat -- he thinks it’s his heart. Bleeding and covered in wounds.

“You’ve really surprised me, Bakugou. And let me tell you, that doesn’t happen very often,” Hobo says in a strange tone. He’s laying in a hospital bed, leg strung up. “At the beginning of the year, based on your performance at the entrance exam, I thought you’d be so focused on winning, it’d be at the detriment of anything else. But since the start of the year, you’ve displayed a keen commitment towards saving people and a firm understanding of first aid and medicine. Through all the hardships U.A. and hero society has faced, you’ve grown to be a strong and capable leader when need be, and a powerful hero.”

Katsuki shifts his feet uncomfortably. His right arm hurts. His chest hurts. Fucking everything hurts. “Is there a point to this conversation?”

“You’re driven, bright, ambitious. You’re sitting near the top of the class both in terms of practicals and academics. Past your temperament, I can see you have a genius-level eye for strategy and a masterful amount of quirk control. The world could see it: you have all the makings of a great pro hero,” Hobo continues on, his eyes piercing through him. “Your classmates have potential too, Bakugou. Sometimes, saving people and defeating villains -- it’s almost impossible to do it all alone.”

“All Might did. For years, All Might- he did,” Katsuki responds gruffly. He gets the caterpillar’s point, he does, but…

“I know. And I have plenty to say about that, but now’s not the time.” Hobo looks more tired than usual. Like exhaustion’s just as much a part of him as his blood and bones. “I’m just saying that you don’t need to do it all alone. In the future, you may run into situations where you need to rely on and work with others.”

There’s only ever been one person Katsuki would want to partner with.

“Fine, is that all, hobo-sensei?”

“You might want to choose a hero name soon,” Hobo quips, smirking slightly. “Everyone is asking about it and you can’t go by your name forever unless you want to be like Todoroki.”

Katsuki's arm is beginning to throb. He’d left his parents in his hospital room; they’ll probably come looking for him soon. “Anything else?”

He nods, motioning that he can go, but before he steps out of his hospital room, he says, “My door is always open if you need it, Bakugou.”

Katsuki closes the hospital room door behind him.

After the war, there’s a horrifying two months where Katsuki doesn’t see Deku.

It makes sense at first, at first. Though it’s jarring, strange -- the lack of Deku. It does make sense. Katsuki is trapped in the walls of a busy hospital as he recovers from his injuries; Deku isn’t going to show up there. Even if Katsuki has moments alone, mornings in the courtyard getting sunlight and midnights with only his heart monitor as company, he’s never fully alone at a hospital always crackling with activity.

U.A.’s classes are put on hold as Japan enters its own state of recovery. All the students are free to come and go as they please. Everyone’s helping rebuild from the city's wreckage and repair the wounds inflicted on everyone’s spirits. Though hero society will never be the same again.

And Katsuki still doesn’t see Deku. Not in his dorm -- not anywhere.

Katsuki leaves campus every day to go to all their usual spots. The stray cats greet him eagerly, but there’s no Deku in sight. The beach park, now that it’s clean and the war is over, manages to draw in a crowd.

Going back to Aldera Junior High School makes Katsuki bile rise in his throat, but he does it anyway.

Katsuki knows he’s already lost his mind. But now it really feels as though he’s losing his mind.

Because Deku isn’t here. He’s not anywhere. Katsuki has looked everywhere and he can’t find him.

Deku should be here. He needs to be here.

If anyone deserves to be here, it’s him.

His classmates ask him questions which he ignores: how he’s feeling, what he’s thinking about, where he’s always running off to. He knows he’s acting strange, but he doesn’t care.

He just needs to see Deku.

And Deku shows up at the river as though no time has passed at all -- two months or two years.

Constellations on chubby cheeks. Fluffy green hair and brighter green eyes. Scrawny limbs. His gakuran is pristine as always.

“Good afternoon, Kacchan!” Deku greets before catching whatever expression Katsuki’s wearing. “Hey, Kacchan, is everything-”

Katsuki knows he should be more careful, but he makes a snap judgement and grabs at him, wrapping his muscular arms tight around Deku’s lithe body. He’s grown tall enough that he can tuck Deku beneath his chin and, Katsuki realizes, it’s a nice feeling. He ignores the thrum of intense pain through his right arm. “Stand beside me, Deku. Always. Keep standing beside me.”

“Kacchan…” Deku’s lips are pressed against his chest and Katsuki can feel the murmur of his voice. He holds him tightly. As though Deku can disappear into thin air -- because he can.

Because Katsuki is horribly, horribly selfish.

Because so many people have died, his country is in shambles, his body is a mess of injuries, and all he can think about is the boy in his arms who hasn’t gotten better.

Because he won a war and came close to dying so many times and wondered what that’d mean for him and Deku.

Because he’s awful and disgusting and sometimes the guilt and hatred festering inside of him weighs more than his own body.

And still…

“Stay. I always want you by my side. So, just- stay.”

Deku doesn’t comment on how out of character this all is, for Katsuki to admit this in such clear words. For Katsuki to have a note of begging in his tone. Instead, he nestles himself further into Katsuki’s side and leans up, breath puffing against his neck.

“Of course, Kacchan. All I’ve ever wanted is to walk beside you. Remember our dream when we were kids?” Deku’s voice is soft and reassuring. He doesn’t even know why Katsuki is doing this, and yet, he greets him with comforts and assurances. His hair tickles Katsuki’s nose when he leans in to press the side of his face against his head, and the cracks in Katsuki’s heart widen. “I’ll apply to U.A. once I get better! Then when I graduate, we can be hero partners. One day, Deku will be the name of a hero!”

“Yeah.” Katsuki squeezes him so tight, he’s almost afraid he’ll break him. “Yeah.”

The stare Aizawa gives him is beseeching, brows drawn down and eyes focused. “Are you sure, Bakugou? You could try and change your hero name later in your career, but this might stick with you forever. Are you really sure?”

Katsuki doesn’t think he’s been more sure of anything in his entire life. He puts his hands in his pockets and touches the worn edges of his card. “I’m not going to change it,” he says, voice like steel.

Aizawa narrows his eyes before ultimately sighing, giving a nod of acquiescence. “Alright then… Hero Deku.”

Katsuki can’t stop thinking about Deku.

That fact isn’t out of character for him; he seems to be thinking about the nerd most days. But more and more, his thoughts stray to how cute Deku is when he’s looking up at him with those big doe-eyes. The sweet noises he makes when he’s working out -- soft grunts and breathless whimpers. How plush his lips are and how they’d feel wrapped around his cock.

The Deku-ness of it all.

And this has been a problem for him for… longer than he’d care to admit.

But it’s never been this bad, this all-consuming before.

And it’s almost like Deku’s teasing him, the times he keeps appearing.

After he’s just taken a hot shower, relaxed and languid and unhurried. Or after an intense session of training, with blood pumping vigorously through his veins and energy buzzing beneath his skin. Once, Deku decided to show up in the dead of night, just as Katsuki was about to pull down his pants and stroke himself to his fantasies of the nerd.

It’s wrong, Katsuki knows. And depraved. But he can’t stop the way his cock twitches when Deku curls into his side, smaller hands holding at his shirt, puffs of breath that aren’t warm or cold pressed against his skin.

Katsuki’s already pulling out his half-hard cock.

Deku’s a lot smaller than him now. Not just height wise, but size too -- physically everything. His height and weight have shot up as he’s aged, along with the added strenuous training of heroics, which means he basically envelopes Deku when he hugs him. His shoulders have broadened and his arms have become more muscular with the amount he uses his quirk. Even his dick’s grown.

He hasn’t seen Deku naked since they were little brats. But he hasn’t grown since he hasn’t been able to get better yet.

Deku’s stayed the same, physically. The same small, scrawny boy who always chased after him.

No amount of training Katsuki’s given him has ever physically stuck. He runs into Deku and he appears in that same gakuran with that same smile.

Katsuki remembers years ago, the way Deku trembled beneath his touch, big eyes filled with fat tears threatening to spill at the slightest provocation, and a sick lurch of arousal goes through him.

He strokes himself slowly as he closes his eyes, imagining Deku shuddering under him, real tears finally spilling over onto his skin. He brings himself to full hardness with every image.

“Ah! I’m so sorry, Kacchan,” Deku shouts in a panic and Katsuki’s eyes pop open. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I can leave-”

“Ngh, fuck. Deku, you don’t have to leave,” Katsuki says quickly, voice rough as he holds the base of his cock. “Don’t leave. Don’t leave.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have just come by without telling you first,” Deku says, fiddling with the sleeves of his gakuran. “Are you sure? I can come by later-”

“Don’t, Deku,” Katsuki forces out. “I can stop.”

Deku shifts, a flush adorning his face as he mumbles out, “You don’t have to stop, Kacchan.”

Katsuki’s eyes widen, his heart thumping wildly in his chest, as he smirks. “I didn’t realize you were such a filthy pervert, Deku,” he teases, enjoying watching the flush spread underneath his gakuran.

‘I wonder how far that blush spreads.’

“I’m not!” Deku insists, not sounding convincing at all. “I just… I just like watching Kacchan.”

“Oh, yeah?” Katsuki’s grin is near feral.

Deku’s next nod is more confident as he takes a step forward. “Yeah, Kacchan’s amazing,” he says with wonder, intense gaze locked onto the firm movement of Katsuki’s hand. “And Kacchan’s so big!”

“Fuck, Deku,” Katsuki groans, holding the base of his cock so he doesn’t fucking explode.

Deku takes a few more steps forward, his eyes never straying. “I knew Kacchan would be big, but I didn’t realize how big! It’s so long and thick; I wonder if I could wrap my hand around it…”

Heat spreads beneath Katsuki’s skin as he makes a strangled noise. “You've been thinking about this a lot, nerd?”

Deku mumbles something under his breath that not even Katsuki can pick up.

Katsuki ignores the sweltering feeling in his chest, and instead focuses on the heat everywhere else; it’s as though the temperature in the room’s risen the way Deku’s cheeks have reddened and the way sweat beads down Katsuki’s skin. “Do you wanna see?”

Deku sinks to his knees before him and it’s the greatest sight Katsuki’s ever seen.

He looks solid and weighty and fucking perfect.

His cock looks so much bigger when placed in front of Deku’s innocent expression -- wide, pleading eyes and soft lips opened in an ‘oh.’

Deku wraps a small, hesitant hand around his cock and it’s everything Katsuki’s ever dreamed of. “I- I don’t know how,” Deku starts, biting at his bottom lip. “I’ve never done this before, Kacchan.”

“Me either,” Katsuki admits and Deku looks up at him in shock. “We’ll take it slow, Deku. Do whatever feels good.”

“Really?! But Kacchan is so popular!” Deku shouts, surprise lacing every word.

And he was in middle school, though most girls were afraid of him and his angry disposition, he was probably the most popular boy in school. And now, after the war, he’s popular enough that Katsuki considers it to be a legitimate issue.

His classmates, especially Dunce Face and the Grape Bastard, have commented on the amount of admirers he has, bemoaning why he turns them all away without a thought.

“You think that shit matters? I don’t want anyone else like that,” Katsuki admits, feeling oddly vulnerable.

But his words seem to spur Deku on as he gives a few tentative strokes. His small hands grow less and less hesitant, pressing at the thick vein on the underside of his dick and thumbing at his tip.

Katsuki wraps his own hand around Deku’s, guiding his movements. Heat pools in his gut, pleasure sparking through him at the sight, at the feeling, of everything Deku.

Fuck. Katsuki’s hand is so much bigger than his.

He could fucking ruin Deku.

“I don’t want anyone else like this either, Kacchan,” Deku murmurs before kissing the tip of his cock, pre-come smearing against his lips as he gives kitten lick after kitten lick.

“Ngh, Deku,” Katsuki chokes out at the sensation of having Deku’s mouth on him. He places a hand in Deku’s hair, holding him there. “You don’t have to-”

“I want to, Kacchan,” Deku pleads, giving him a look Katsuki wouldn’t be able to resist if he tried.

Katsuki leans down and kisses the corner of Izuku’s mouth before gripping at his hair, guiding him back to his cock -- hard and aching and ready.

Deku opens his mouth and licks at the head of Katsuki’s dick, swirling his tongue around the tip as he lets out pleased, warbled moans. Katsuki lets him do as he pleases, sighing and leaning back, petting Deku’s hair contentedly.

“Fuck, Deku, look at you,” Katsuki can’t help but say, “I always knew you’d look so pretty on your knees for me.”

Deku moans loudly as he pops the tip of Katsuki’s large cock in his mouth. He noisily begins sucking him off -- muffled whimpers, hitched breaths, soft mewls. It’s like a symphony in Katsuki’s ears.

Deku mumbles something that sounds like his nickname before opening his mouth wider and taking more of him in. He sloppily bobs his head, choking himself on his eagerness to fit Katsuki’s large girth in his mouth.

“Easy, baby,” Katsuki croons, pulling at the fluffy strands of Deku’s hair. “You’re so good, Deku. Let me help you.”

Deku looks up at him with innocent, half-lidded eyes as he moans around him. And the urge to completely ruin him gets harder and harder to resist.

Katsuki starts with small, shallow thrusts before going harder, deeper, grunting lowly at the feeling of Deku’s throat squeezing tight against him.

He forces a decent amount of his cock into Deku’s mouth, his cheeks completely red and stuffed.

Deku moans headily around him as he tries to open his mouth even wider, pre-come and saliva getting all over his face and gakuran every time Katsuki cock leaves his mouth to thrust even deeper.

Katsuki revels in the sight before him, building pleasure twisting through his every bone. He caresses Deku’s cheek, wiping a tear track away with his fingertips.

Deku, on his knees stuffed full of his cock. Deku, with swollen lips and tears pricking at his eyes. Deku, slurping at him with an enthusiasm and eagerness that is so Deku.

Katsuki can’t believe it’s right in front of him.

White hot pleasure bursts through him as he comes down Deku’s throat, thrusting shallowly as Deku’s lips are darkened and wet with saliva and come. Deku swallows around his large cock, looking up at Katsuki with adoration in his eyes. He trembles as Katsuki gives another shallow thrust into his throat, stilling as wave after wave of hot, thick come continue rushing out of him.

Katsuki pets at his hair, whispering words of praise and reverence. “You’re so good, Deku. Fuck, you’re perfect. I’m so sorry. You feel so good around me, taking me in. It’s like you were made for me. I’m sorry, Deku. You’re so good. So, so good.”

He moves to pull Deku up and reciprocate when he finds a dark stain on his pants.

“Did you come from that, Deku?” Katsuki can’t hide the awe in his voice as another fire of arousal shoots through him.

Deku lets out a soft warbling noise. “You just feel so good inside me, Kacchan.”

Katsuki pulls the suit and pants of his gakuran off of him so he’s more comfortable, manhandling him onto his lap.

‘So much of what’s between us is silent,’ Katsuki realizes. Unspoken. Unacknowledged. Unnamed. But as essential as the oxygen in his lungs and the blood in his veins. ‘Do we even know what we are? Have we ever known?’

‘Can we ever be anything? After all the things I’ve done.’

Katsuki will sit with this grief for the rest of his life if he needs to.

He’ll add guilt on top of guilt on top of guilt.

Katsuki’s visiting home, for once.

His parents had recommended a therapist again, right after the war, which Katsuki had once again declined. He knows they love him and are just worried about him -- he has good parents.

But he’s fine, honest. Most of the time.

Some visits are easy. It feels like when he was a brat. His dad sitting at the kitchen table as he takes sips of piping hot coffee and stares adoringly at his family, and Katsuki’s mom and him shouting over which spices are best to use as she attempts to teach him a new recipe.

Others are stilted and uncomfortable. Like his parents are trying to navigate something they don’t know how to. Like being put on a boat in the middle of the ocean without a map.

Katsuki never knows what he’s going to get.

“How are your friends? A few more months till your second year is over. A lot of this year was spent on the restoration efforts, so I’m sure it must have been hectic,” his mother starts over dinner.

“My classmates are fine, old hag,” Katsuki responds simply.

“How about the ones that visited you in the hospital, Katsuki?” She keeps going, tilting her head. “That one boy with two-toned hair and the other with pointy teeth.”

“Todoroki and Kirishima,” Katsuki grunts out. “Fine. Half and Half’s dealing with a lot after the death of his dad.”

He’s not particularly invested in what his classmates are up to, though he is aware of it. He does feel bad for the guy though after the shitshow of family drama he’d been forced to endure, and now, placed under public scrutiny.

His father makes a sympathetic comment towards Half and Half. His mother asks him a few more questions about it before sighing and switching gears.

“I think we should visit Izuku,” his mother says way too casually for the way it sends ice shooting through Katsuki’s entire body. “It’s been a long time.”

It hasn’t been a long time. Not really. Not for him.

Because Katsuki had seen Deku two days ago. He’d walked into his dorm to find Deku sitting in front of his bookshelf, reading through some of the newest All Might comics to come out.

A lot of All Might merchandise had been released in memoriam of his death; Katsuki bought it, making sure to remove any references as to why said comics were being released.

Deku had been muttering about how the comic was rehashing a plot they’d already done twice. It’d actually been done three times by that point. A side comic came out in their final year of middle school, but Katsuki had never bought it, only read up on it. And Deku wouldn’t know.

It’s strange. That’s what gets to Katsuki. It’s strange having a Deku that isn’t up to date on everything All Might.

“I went to his grave with Inko a few months back,” his mother continues, her voice is steady and her eyes are gentler than Katsuki usually sees them. “It was healing being there. It might be a good idea, Katsuki.”

Katsuki gives a half-shrug and grunts. “Maybe,” he responds, noncommittally.

Healing.

He could scoff.

“Everyone thinks you have a girlfriend,” Shitty Hair says out of the blue one day. They’ve got a calculus test in a few days and Katsuki’s going to beat these equations into his skull if he needs to.

Deku has mentioned him helping tutor his classmates enough times, that now he looks so pleased and content when Katsuki brings up that he’s done it.

That’s what he fucking gets for always complaining about his stupid classmates.

“Like I’d have a secret fucking girlfriend,” Katsuki growls out, eye twitching. “All you morons think this shit? Are you kidding me?”

He shrugs his shoulders, fiddling with a pencil that should be writing down numbers. “It started with just the Bakusquad, but basically the entire class thinks it as this point.”

He has no idea why they call themselves that when he hardly talks to them. At most, he lets them exist around his space when they’re not being too annoying.

“Then the entire class is even dumber than I thought,” Katsuki scoffs, shaking his head derisively.

After the war, Katsuki can admit that Class 2-A’s grown closer as a whole. They all went through a terrible traumatic ordeal together and they didn’t come out unscathed -- some of them didn’t come out at all. Katsuki can see the ways they all check up on each other, unacknowledged touches of affirmation as someone passes by and quiet conversations in the corridors of their dormitory.

Even Katsuki isn’t so quick to snap at them and shout harsh insults anymore. But that doesn’t mean he wants to bond with them.

He’s fine alone. And with his memories. And with his ghosts and hallucinations and whatever else appears before him.

Shitty Hair chuckles. “I thought it was kind of dumb too, but hey! In a way it makes sense, man. You’re always turning down bento boxes and chocolates from girls or hiding when they try to give you their confession letters. If you’ve already got a girlfriend or something, you could just tell them and they’ll probably leave you alone.”

Katsuki scowls, snarling out, “I don’t hide.”

He just makes himself permanently unavailable to find.

“Then, you know, sometimes Shouji and I, when we’re passing by your dorm, we can hear you talking on the phone with someone,” Shitty Hair continues, rubbing the back of his head. “And then, there was the whole thing with the beach, and that was wrong of everyone -- really unmanly! But a beach can be a pretty romantic place to meet someone. Plus, there was that whole thing with your “mysterious friend” who’s interested in quirks. So now everyone’s speculating on the kind of girl that could steal your heart.”

Katsuki can feel the back of his ears burning as anger bubbles in the pit of his stomach. This is what he fucking gets for listening to stupid Deku.

“I don’t have a girlfriend, you piece of shit!” Katsuki yells, his teeth grinding together. “Get the hell out of my business!”

“It doesn’t really mean anything!” Shitty Hair reassures him. He makes a move to pat him on the shoulder before thinking otherwise and resting his hand back against the desk. “Everyone’s just curious, dude. You’re kind of a hard guy to get to know. Super manly! But you can be pretty distant.”

Katsuki’s glare is harsh. He has half a mind to just leave Shitty Hair here to suffer through the rest of his calculus homework.

“It doesn’t mean the class should be theorizing about you or prying into your business,” Shitty Hair adds.

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” Katsuki barks through gritted teeth.

“So a boyfriend then?” Shitty Hair follows easily, quirking an eyebrow.

Katsuki should set him on fire, honestly.

‘Friend’ isn’t the right word. But ‘boyfriend’ isn’t either. A boyfriend would be someone he could take out to dinner and show off to all the extras and eventually have a wedding with. Someone who could cheer him on in the crowd during the sports festival. Someone who could hug him at his graduation and kiss him softly on his cheek beneath the sakura trees.

Someone who didn’t exist between spaces and moments.

And he and Deku have never even talked about this. Whatever’s between them.

‘How could we ever? With our history. With my list of sins,’ crosses Katsuki’s mind.

Honestly, even before that day, Katsuki’s never had a good word for Deku’s place in his life. He’s just always been there in one way or another. A constant.

Bakugou Katsuki and Midoriya Izuku. Kacchan and Deku.

Like two stars orbiting each other.

It’s never needed something as simple as a name.

Shitty Hair walks away from the conversation thinking he’s got some kind of secret boyfriend and Katsuki doesn’t stop him.

There is something seriously wrong with him.

One good thing comes of it.

Whatever dumb explanation Shitty Hair gives the rest of class 2-A seems to work well enough. They stop speculating and whispering invasive questions behind his back, though Katsuki can still feel their curious eyes on him as he walks away.

Katsuki’s back to interning with Denim Head who, luckily, survived the war relatively unscathed.

He’s the new Number One Pro Hero.

With All Might and that Flame Bastard dead, and Wings retired, it’s been his responsibility to pick up the mantle, leading Hero Society into a new era. It’s grueling work. Grueling, awful, backbreaking work. But Denim Head doesn’t complain.

He just brushes his hair and offers a quip of wisdom.

And as Denim Head’s protege, as well as a famous figure from the war, Katsuki’s been there every step of the way.

It’s been cleared with U.A. that he can take on extra patrol shifts.

He’s just finished a long one, walking back to U.A. as the sun’s setting down into the inky horizon, when a man grabs an old woman’s purse and makes a break for it.

It takes Katsuki about four and a half seconds to catch the loser.

“Thank you so much, young man,” the old lady says with gratitude, bowing her head. He declines the piece of candy she wants to give him.

“Deku! Deku!” A little girl calls out, running towards him on wobbly little legs. “Your explosions are so cool! I saw them on TV with my daddy and they were so boom! You’re my favorite hero, Deku!”

Something scorching hot has lived between his ribs for a long time. Katsuki wonders what it’s like to be burned from the inside out.

The tentative peace finally breaks near the beginning of Katsuki’s third year.

During a fucking game of truth or dare that he didn’t even want to play in the first place.

“Come on! We’ve been so patient,” Raccoon Eyes whines out, leaning into Round Cheeks’ side. “When are we going to meet your mysterious friend?” She says that word -- friend -- with a wink, drawing each letter out as they float off her tongue.

Katsuki sharpens his glare. “Never.”

“You’ve got to give us something, Bakugou. This is so unfair!” She continues whining as the girls of 3-A pat her consolingly on the back.

He shrugs his shoulders and tries to ignore the cold crawling down his spine. “It’s not my fault you wasted your dare. You asked me to call them and they don’t have a phone.” Not anymore.

Raccoon Eyes moans and stares up at the ceiling in agony. “Who in this day and age doesn’t have a phone?!”

Ears nods, shooting him a non-believing look. “Yeah, and haven’t Shouji and Kirishima mentioned that they could hear you talking on the phone?”

Katsuki shoots Octopus and Shitty Hair murderous glares; they both mouth out silent apologies.

Frog Girl ribbits. “I feel like I should cut down to it. Bakugou, are you messing with Mina to get out of the dare?”

“Hah?! You think I’d lie just for some shitty game?” Katsuki snarls, feeling his temperature rising. These people set his nerves on fire in the worst possible ways.

Half and Half glances at him with assessing eyes. “Are we sure this friend exists at all? I think it would make sense for Bakugou to have made one up in order to not appear as friendless.”

Katsuki feels the fire that had been slowly crawling through his body settle immediately in the pit of his stomach. “Fucking ironic coming from you of all people, Half and Half Bastard! You wouldn’t know friendship if it clocked you in the face.”

Tape Face pats Half and Half’s arm consolingly. “Good guess, but I don't think Bakugou of all people would mind that reputation. He’s kind of fine being a loner.”

“I just want to know the kind of person who Bakugou would consider as a friend,” Dunce Face remarks, a pensive look on his face. “It’s got to be someone super strong with a really good quirk, right?”

Half and Half interjects, “They do extensive quirk analysis, don’t they? And Bakugou seems to fully trust their judgement, so they must be smart.”

“If it’s a girl, I bet she’s hot as hell with huge knockers!” Grape Bastard comments and Frog Girl wacks him with her tongue.

“If you’re not going to call your friend, then you’ve got to give us something, Bakugou,” Raccoon Eyes begs, pouting her lips.

“I know we’re all curious, but don’t press too much. It may be too private,” Ponytail reminds the group. The only fucking reasonable person.

“How? If they’re just friends, right?” Dunce Face teases, smirking and wiggling his eyebrows.

They don’t even understand what they’re asking him. Katsuki doesn’t even know how to answer. All he can focus on is the sinking feeling that’s taken over his body and the way his palms sweat.

Raccoon Eyes and Round Face cheer, “I want to meet them!”

“You’re never meeting him,” Katsuki says, his voice a little too dark.

But they don’t seem to pick up on his tone. All they pick up on is, “Him?!” And then there’s a flurry of brand new questions.

“Why can’t we meet him? He likes quirks, right? I bet he’d like to see ours up close and personal.”

“Is it a secret relationship or something? Is that why you’re so protective of it?”

“Ooh! Are you guys, like, star-crossed lovers?”

Star-crossed lovers.

Those words make something thud painfully in Katsuki’s chest. Two people with destiny against them, with an obstacle so insurmountable they’d have to defy the fates to be together. They weren’t once and it’s Katsuki’s fault that they are now. With an obstacle no amount of training or power or wits could ever hope to defy.

And suddenly, in a tone far too somber and serious for Dunce Face’s teasing and the light atmosphere of a children’s game, Katsuki mutters out, “Star-crossed lovers. Something like that.”

And that seems to silence everyone.

Ponytail winces as she places her head in her hand. The nerds look around awkwardly. All the idiots that like following him around grimace.

“I’m sorry, Bakugou.” Class 3-A lets out a flurry of apologies, clearly understanding that they’ve crossed some sort of line, pestering their overly private classmate a bit too much, even if they don’t fully understand why.

“Whatever,” Katsuki dismisses, his body feeling much too heavy. “I’m heading to bed.”

It’s way too early for bed, even for Katsuki, and everyone knows it, but no one stops him. Maybe Deku will be there when he returns to his room.

Katsuki feels numb as his phone drops onto his bed.

He can honestly say that he never expected a call from Auntie Inko. Apparently, she didn’t even have to ask his mother for his phone number; he and Deku had once been forced to work together on a school project during their time at Aldera and Deku had kept his phone number -- Auntie Inko found it while looking through his things.

She had asked him to come by when he wasn’t too busy and Katsuki had promised he’d be there over the weekend on a Saturday afternoon.

Katsuki’s a third year student at U.A. interning under the Number One Pro Hero -- he’s always busy. But it’s easy to make time for Auntie Inko.

He’s standing outside her apartment door, feet shifting beneath him as he hesitates to knock. He hasn’t been here since he was a kid: having sleepovers and playing heroes and reading through old comics. The outside of the apartment looks the same, with half-dead flowers in the windowsill and a cute welcome mat at his feet.

Deku’s apartment looks unchanged by time.

Katsuki resists the urge to laugh hysterically.

Eventually, he brings himself to knock on the front door. It’s coming up on the time Katsuki had said he’d be there, and the last thing he wants is for Auntie Inko to think he’s some sort of slacker.

Auntie Inko gives him a quick hug in greeting before ushering him inside. “Katsuki, it’s so good to see you! Please come inside.”

“Thanks,” Katsuki mumbles, shoving his shoes off.

“Look how much you’ve grown!” She points out, gesturing to his large frame. “I almost can’t believe it, you’re really a man now.”

He half-shrugs, taking a look around the apartment. If the outside looked untouched, the inside of the place is the exact opposite. Almost everything is in boxes or covered in bubble wrap. The small TV that Katsuki remembers is still there, as is the couch and a few framed photos, but the rest of the living room is empty.

Auntie Inko herself looks… tired. Just tired. A crumpled shirt and heavy bags under her eyes. Her kind face doesn’t mask her exhaustion.

“I wanted to thank you for everything during the war,” Auntie Inko says with a soft smile. “I saw a lot of what happened in the news. Everyone in the country is grateful towards you and the other U.A. students. I told Mitsuki to tell you, but since you’re here now, I thought I’d say it to you personally.”

“The old hag told me when I was in the hospital,” Katsuki responds, awkwardly shoving his hands into his pockets, his palm resting against his card. “Thanks, but you don’t need to thank me for that shit.”

He can’t remember the last time he felt this way -- if he’s ever felt this way. Uncomfortable and overgrown in his own body. His whole life, Katsuki’s been naturally blessed with a lot of things: an athletic body, a keen and clever mind, a fucking awesome quirk. And as a teenager, he’s shot up in height over the past few years, easily one of the tallest in their class. His arms and chest have broadened considerably, muscles packed onto every part of his body, and face sharp and defined.

But standing in front of Auntie Inko, Katsuki feels as though he should be a junior high student wearing his old gakuran.

Auntie Inko’s smile turns sad. “Still, thank you, Katsuki. I know… I know that if Izuku could see everything you’ve accomplished, he’d be so proud of you.”

‘Don’t worry, Auntie. Deku doesn't know about the war,’ Katsuki almost says, the words lying heavy on his tongue, ‘I never told him about it. I protected him.’

“Yeah,” Katsuki agrees gruffly because Deku had been proud of the new special moves he showed him on the beach last week and all the stories from his days at Denim Head’s agency.

Katsuki has no idea what image of him Auntie Inko has in her head. It’s been made clear over the years that she has no idea Katsuki bullied Deku, or the extent of his mistreatment at Aldera. She seems to think they’re old childhood friends that simply grew apart, though Deku obviously still admired him. And that image seems to bring her comfort. That Deku had one person in the end.

Katsuki knows how selfish he is. He knows.

But he also knows Deku and so, to an extent, Auntie Inko.

And confessing whatever sins weighed on his shoulders, adding to her unbearable misery and grief, Katsuki couldn’t force that on her. He could be selfless for Deku’s mom -- just once.

“Izuku looked up to you so much,” Auntie Inko says, still wearing that sad smile, her eyebrows pinched together and her hands twisting the fabric of her shirt.

“I know that now,” Katsuki replies, his own voice rough in his ears.

‘I’m so sorry, Deku. That I didn’t know that before.’

“I read a news article a while back -- maybe a few months after the war -- about how you helped with a bank robbery,” Auntie Inko says, her tone shifting and she takes a deep breath and carries on, “and it mentioned your hero name.”

Katsuki’s entire body goes stiff.

“I’ve never been a fan of that childhood nickname: Deku. But Izuku never seemed to mind it,” she comments with a hard look in her eyes that Katsuki doesn’t know how to read. “Let me tell you, I was quite surprised to read it in the paper. I remember what you and Izuku used to name the old neighborhood strays!”

“I tried for King Explosion Murder, but my teachers didn’t approve. Deku was just my second option,” Katsuki attempts to joke, but his voice comes out half-strangled.

Auntie Inko, bless her heart, laughs regardless. “The reason I asked you here is because I’m moving out of this apartment. I’ll still be in the area, of course, but maybe somewhere smaller and more private. I’ve been looking at a few houses with your mom; they’re quaint and seem very homey. I’ve been going through Izuku’s things and he has quite the All Might collection; I figured if anyone would appreciate it, it’d be you.”

Katsuki’s always felt as though he’s walking on a thread, the way he balances above the fires burning at his heart and through his chest, pounding and scorching each and every one of his ribs.

Sometimes, it’s like he’s moments away from falling.

“Sure,” Katsuki agrees even though he’d rather do anything else.

Auntie Inko insists that he can keep most of it. Apparently her new home won’t have much extra space and she’s picked all the things she wants to hold onto. Katsuki figures he can store most of it at his parent’s house for now. So much of Deku’s collection is limited edition and items that don’t get released anymore; it would sell for a pretty penny, but Katsuki already knows he’d never give a single part of the collection up.

He spots the rest of Deku’s notebooks on his bookshelf.

“You can take them if you want, Katsuki,” Auntie Inko says, picking one up and flitting through it. “I’ve already looked through them countless times. Maybe they’ll be useful to you! Wouldn’t that be something? Izuku’s analysis helping from beyond the grave.”

Katsuki stares at the notebooks in his hands. “I think Deku’s helping more than you know.”

Auntie Inko’s eyes burn into the wall -- a photograph of Deku as a kid, tooth missing and wearing an All Might t-shirt. “I’m sorry, Katsuki, I could never bring myself to say it when I should have- I should have reached out to you. So, please let me thank you for- that day- for trying to hold onto him- I just-”

“I’m sorry, too,” is all Katsuki can bring himself to say.

Grief is strange. He doesn’t know how much he’s let himself feel it. All the things he’s buried deep within his ribcage. Everything that threatens to tear him apart from the inside out.

It’s as though he’s been living in static ever since that day at the front of Aldera Junior High School.

But the feeling right now is choking him. This denial.

It numbs his chest and thrums beneath his skin and makes his hands shake.

“I remember my last conversation with Izuku so clearly. I wake up and for a moment, just a breath of a second, everything is okay. But then the next second, that memory hits me; it’s like a movie I can’t turn off,” Auntie Inko says, tears swelling in her eyes.

It’s the first time she’s started crying during his visit, and a shock of surprise goes through him. The Auntie Inko he knew would’ve been bawling the whole time. But tears aren’t limitless and she’s had years to cry them.

“He seemed so… normal. My baby, Izuku -- the same as he’s always been.” Auntie Inko’s breath hitches as she gives out another sob. “He thanked me for breakfast with the same smile as always. And you remember his red shoes? They didn’t match his gakuran at all, but he always wore them.”

Katsuki swallows hard. And he really, really wants to wash his hands. “I remember.”

“I just- I wish I could talk to him… one last time. Just to hear his voice,” Auntie Inko pleads as she crumples onto herself. “Izuku never said anything to me about how he was feeling, but I think, whatever it was, he’d been feeling that way for a long time. A part of me, all I want is answers, and the other part of me just wants to forget about it all.”

He wants to confess everything at that moment. Everything.

Katsuki can’t remember the last time he felt the urge so strongly. He wants to tell her about All Might and his conversation with Deku on the roof. He wants to tell her about the charred notebook he took and hid in his desk. He wants to tell her about the years of anger and fury that Katsuki directed at a hero-hearted boy.

He wants to tell her about that boy. Who still loves cooing at the stray cats in the side alley next to the convenience store and rambling his long-winded analysis about heroes and yes, he still wears those same dorky, red shoes.

“I wonder what he’d look like if he were alive -- all the time,” Auntie Inko says with a watery laugh, tone lighter and more playful. “Sometimes I think he’d look like his father. But I sometimes imagine Izuku would look like you! But what mother wouldn’t want their son to grow up big and strong? I can imagine, right, haha?”

All the words Katsuki wants to say die on his tongue. His Deku is small. He’s short and chubby-cheeked and bright-eyed. He’s still wearing his red shoes and he’s still wearing his fucking gakuran.

Auntie Inko wipes her tears away and composes herself with such an ease, it startles him. “Maybe moving out will be a good fresh start. A new beginning.”

“So you’re just moving on?” Katsuki asks without thinking, his tone a touch too judgemental and harsh. His palms press into Deku’s notebooks.

But Auntie Inko doesn’t seem to mind it. If anything, she offers him a kind and sympathetic smile. “I can never just move on, Katsuki. My Izuku will always be a part of me,” she explains softly, leaning up to pat him on the shoulder. She gestures to all the boxes packed up around the apartment. “But I can’t keep living in a home full of ghosts.”

Katsuki opens up Deku’s very first notebook -- Hero Analysis for the Future Number One.

On the first page is a sloppy sketch of the two of them. It’s from before Katsuki had gotten his quirk and the two of them would spend hours imagining what they’d end up with; which, for the most part, just ended up being imitations of All Might’s quirk -- something super powerful and awesome.

Katsuki’s hair looks like an explosion on his head and Deku’s doodled freckles take up half the page, most of them not even on his body, with how many they decided to add.

The sketch shows them knocking down a building and saving a stray cat.

They’re drawn smiling and holding hands.

Katsuki flips the page and Deku’s limited edition All Might card -- the very same as his own -- falls into his lap.

Denim Head nods his head in approval. “Well done. You’ve always had the makings of a great hero, and after washing your fabrics and polishing your threads, I wouldn’t be surprised to see you take my spot one day, Deku. Well done indeed.”

The future Number One Pro Hero: Deku.

His love life becomes Class 3-A’s favorite topic. It’s annoying as fuck, but easily ignorable.

The girls, especially Raccoon Eyes and Invisible Chick, are enamoured with the idea of star-crossed lovers.

Everyone speculates as to what kind of person this mysterious star-crossed lover could be and exactly what sort of destiny could possibly be keeping them apart. His classmates are respectful enough to not talk about it in front of him, but Katsuki isn’t a fucking idiot. He can tell.

Every once in a while, one of the girls will try and ask him questions which he’s learned to brush off by immediately walking away.

It doesn’t become a problem until near the end of the year, a few weeks away from graduation, when everyone’s dreading no longer being together but excited for the next chapter -- and people have stopped caring about their classes and grades as much.

Their class went through a fucking war. They all have their post-graduation jobs lined up. Class 3-A is bored and in desperate need of entertainment.

Fuck Bakugou Katsuki’s life.

He probably deserves this.

Half the class decides that Katsuki’s behaviors and temperament are due to the fact that he’s sad about his love life, and that maybe, just maybe, he’ll be happier if they found him a new guy.

Truly. Fuck his life.

Invisible Chick points at some random second-year student. “Oh! He’s pretty cute, isn’t he?”

Katsuki narrows his eyes and responds, “He’s got shit quirk control and porcupine needles for hair.”

“So is having good quirk control a dealbreaker?” She follows up eagerly.

“No,” Katsuki yells out as he walks away, listening to Invisible Chick’s bemoaning about how impossible he is.

It becomes almost unbearable when the rest of U.A. picks up on what they’re doing.

Katsuki knows he has a reputation. He knows the kind of reputation he has.

Most people see him as a bit of a contradiction. He’s a delinquent, but he’s sitting firmly at the top of his class. He’s got anger issues, but always carries around a first aid kit with him. He’s obsessed with winning, but he has one of the highest save rates.

He’s arrogant and conceited and he chose Deku as his hero name.

People tend to either write him off for his perceived negative traits or flock to him because “I promise, if you just give us a chance, I can understand you better than anyone else, Bakugou-sama!”

For all the people who’ve confessed to him after the war, he’s never accepted a single one. Not ever.

It’s as though it becomes a challenge in U.A.’s mind: see if anyone can be or find the perfect person for Bakugou Katsuki.

Random extras try leaving bento boxes on his desk and confession letters in his shoe locker. First-year girls giggle outside Class 3-A’s door, hoping to chat with him as he heads to lunch. Second-year boys just so happen to start training in the gym the same time as him. It’s as though someone always has eyes on him.

“You’re really not going to give any of these hot chicks a second of your time! That’s so cold, Bakugou,” Grape Face comments, shivering. “More for me, I guess. They’re going to need someone to comfort them.”

Raccoon Eyes scoffs. “No one wants you to comfort them.”

“What’s the harm in giving one person a shot?” Shitty Hair suggests with a shrug. “I don’t know, man. Maybe it’ll help with getting over it.”

‘Getting over it?’

“I don’t-” Katsuki cuts himself off with a growl, gritting his teeth so hard he’s almost worried they may crack. “I’d rather jump into oncoming traffic.”

Dunce Face lets out a big weary sigh. “But all the hot guys and gals! They like you! Why not just try it out?”

“None of them even know me,” Katsuki snarls as he makes his way back to their dorms.

No one does. Not like Deku.

Ponytail approaches him one day and offers him a cup of tea.

“I’m sorry, Bakugou,” she says after taking a sip from her own cup, setting it down on the table. “Everyone’s eagerness will fade soon once they remember we only have two weeks of classes left, and then we’ll have to deal with their overenthusiasm towards graduating.”

“Can’t come soon enough, Pres,” Katsuki grumbles and takes a sip of his own drink. Ponytail can make some damn good tea.

“Whoever he is, you really love him, don’t you?” Ponytail asks, her voice quiet with understanding. “He must be really special.”

“It’s him or no one.”

It tears through him how true that statement is. In any timeline, in any universe, no matter what -- it’s him and Deku.

Whether Deku’s here or not, that will never change.

Katsuki has kept his anger and rage as a companion for so long, has a swarm of tangled emotions buried in his chest and warming his entire body, that he can see how much of it is really grief.

‘This isn’t how it should have been. This isn’t what was supposed to happen,’ Katsuki wants to sob out each wretched word. And his grief chokes him at every turn because this is how it is -- broken and unfixable.

It’s all he can hold onto. All the love he’s always been too weak to say. And now it’s too late to ever say it. Katsuki wants to keep it tucked into his chest because what is grief, if not the love he cannot give.

How can anyone ever let this go?

“Kacchan, can I ask you something?” Deku says, fiddling with the sleeves of his gakuran. His stupid, big eyes are on the floor, but Katsuki catches him sending a furtive glance his way.

Deku’s so fucking adorable sometimes. How did he ever look at that face and feel such unrelenting frustration?

Katsuki smirks, leaning back in his desk chair. “Nothing’s ever stopped you before, damn nerd.”

The fiddling stops. Deku’s hands tighten into fists. His eyes harden before he takes a deep breath.

Katsuki prepares himself for the worst.

“Back when you, uh… apologized, you called me Izuku,” Deku starts.

Relief washes over Katsuki just as a different sort of dread takes over. “Yeah,” Katsuki says.

Deku purses his lips as he genuinely asks, “Why?”

“It’s the name you deserve to be called,” Katsuki replies simply.

He falls silent as he takes in what Katsuki said. He tilts his head a bit, imploringly. “You haven’t called me that name since.” Deku doesn’t sound accusatory. He doesn’t sound particularly curious either. It’s a statement of fact. A true one. And he’s looking at him with those wide eyes.

They’ve never been good at reading each other. They grew up together -- Katsuki and Izuku, Kacchan and Deku -- and went to school together every day and saw so many different parts of each other that no one else saw. Katsuki knows Izuku better than anything else does. And still, sometimes he stares at him and feels as though he’s looking at a wall.

Katsuki doesn’t even have to think about his response. The words fall easily off his tongue, “Because I don’t deserve to call you it.”

And stupid Deku, of all things, walks towards him and presses his lips softly against his cheek, right underneath his eye against an old scar from the war. They’re a little chapped, but they’re plush and warm and they feel halfway towards solid right now. “Yes, you do, Kacchan,” he whispers gently, lifting his hand to rest it on Katsuki’s forearm. His gakuran -- his gakuran -- brushes against his skin. “You don’t have to. I don’t mind being called Deku, honest! I’ve kind of grown to like it. But I already told you I’ve forgiven you for the bullying. You don’t have to do anything more, Kacchan, I already feel so blessed just being around you again!”

Katsuki stares at this image of Deku.

If Katsuki were to stand, Deku would only reach his shoulders at this point.

Katsuki had once thought of Deku as scrawny, but now he wonders if that had ever been an apt description.

Deku looks fragile. So fragile and small and breakable.

A boy with skinny arms and legs, and smatterings of freckles all across his skin, and wide innocent eyes, and a gakuran that looks a size too big on him.

Grief sweeps through him. ‘How could I have ever hurt this boy?’

Deku smiles into his skin. “Heh, I’ll show you, Kacchan!”

And for a moment, Katsuki can see it all so painfully clearly.

A Deku who goes to U.A. -- maybe the hero course, maybe the support or general courses -- and grows into his fragile body. His years of training with Katsuki actually mean something and he builds muscle and grows taller. All those days they spent at Takoba Beach beneath the beating sun would leave new freckles on Deku’s skin and lighten his green hair.

Is that what Auntie Inko thinks of when she imagines Deku?

Lips on his cheek. A hand on his forearm. Tears burning behind his eyes. His childish anger, a lifetime worth of guilt and regret, the endlessly aching void of maybe’s and what if’s. It’s as though the ground is opening up beneath him and he’s there on the precipice of his own petrifying swan dive.

The truth lies heavy on his tongue. Katsuki’s caught in that instant between breaths, heart caught in his throat.

Katsuki swallows it down. His heart, the truth -- all of it.

‘How much longer can I do this?’ Katsuki wonders and he aches. His heart aches so much, he’s afraid it’s going to burst. ‘I can’t do this.’

The morning of Katsuki’s graduation, he wakes up before the sun peaks above the horizon and heads to Aldera Junior High School.

He can feel it. In his bones, in his veins, in his heart -- he can feel it. Deku will show up.

Katsuki waits beneath the sakura trees surrounding the koi fish pond. And just as the first rays of light appear, Kacchan can hear Izuku’s laughter in the wind.

“Kacchan! It’s still so cold out and you’re wearing that? You’re going to get sick,” Izuku points out, worrying his bottom lip as he frets. Kacchan hates the cold, always has and probably always will. Right now, he’s only wearing his black skull t-shirt and an old pair of jeans.

“It’ll warm up in an hour,” Kacchan replies as an awful numbness washes over him. Cherry blossom petals dance in the breeze around them. “Do you feel cold? You’re only wearing your gakuran, Izuku,” Kacchan points out for the first time.

Izuku blinks up at him, wide-eyed, and then glances down at himself as though he’s seeing himself for the first time. “I- I feel fine, Kacchan. Promise!”

“Do you feel better?” Katsuki’s voice is hollow.

Izuku tilts his head and stares at him with unreadable green eyes. “I feel the same as always… Kacchan, what are you saying?”

All the lies he wants to say sit bitter and pungent on his tongue. Kacchan chokes them down and his throat burns. “I want you to stay, Izuku. I wish you could get better. I want you to stay with me so, so badly I-”

“I’m not going to get better, right, Kacchan?” Izuku whispers, his eyes hazy and clouded. The pastel oranges and pinks of the sunrise dance right through him as he fades. “I’m never going to apply to U.A. I’m never going to be a hero. Kacchan, am I?”

Kacchan, a man on the edge of graduating top of his class from the most prestigious hero course in Japan.

And Izuku, a middle school boy frozen in still-frame.

“You’re already a hero, Izuku,” Kacchan murmurs, his eyes burning. He’s weak. He’s so, so weak. “I’m so sorry. You’re going to get better and then we can be heroes together. I promise, Izuku.”

Katsuki graduates from U.A. at the top of his class and Deku, of course, doesn’t get better. They will never go to U.A. together now. Never.

Deku doesn’t bring it up.

So neither does Katsuki.

After graduating, Katsuki is set to move into his own apartment and become an official sidekick under Denim Head.

There’s a few weeks before his job officially starts, as well as most of the graduating class, which allows them to finally take a break and rest. Katsuki has gotten plenty of offers and invites to hang out, but he’s turned them all down.

The day before he’s set to move out, Katsuki runs into Deku in the side alley near the convenience store. The owner still hates him -- which is hilarious, honestly. Katsuki is a fucking child war hero and the old man still looks at him and sees a five-year-old brat with fireworks for hands and a grin more feral than human.

It’s comforting. Katsuki prefers it that way. It’ll be strange -- living in a new place. There won’t be this side alley or Takoba Beach Park or the river in the forest. No Aldera Junior High School either.

Deku’s making adorable, little chirping noises at one of the fattest orange tabbies that Katsuki’s ever seen. It swishes its fluffy tail back and forth and yawns before flopping onto the ground.

“What should we name him?” Deku asks, trying to grab its wandering attention.

Katsuki sighs and stares at the cat as it blinks up at him. “Fat Gum.”

“I was going to say Mightiest, but I think your name suits him better,” Deku says with a laugh. “You’ve gotten better at naming things, Kacchan!”

Katsuki barks out a short cackle. “If you say so, damn nerd.”

“Do you have a hero name picked out? I can’t remember if you ever told me,” Deku wonders aloud, staring up into the sky as he loses himself in thought. “I feel like I know it, but I just can’t remember right now.”

“I go by my family name,” Katsuki answers simply. He’s gotten used to the way lies taste; it’s easier sometimes because he’s learned truths don’t taste any better. Not when it comes to Deku.

“What?! That’s so unexpected, Kacchan,” Deku shouts out in shock, waving his arms around. “I thought for sure it would be something like Great Explosion Murder God-"

“Enough of that,” Katsuki cuts him off. He gently pets the head of a cat with large, pointy ears; its black fur is silky for a stray and its eyes droop down in slow, steady blinks. “How about this one? Got a name?”

Deku hums for a moment before clapping his hands together. “Oh! How about Eraserhead? Like your teacher!”

Katsuki looks down as the cat gives him another droopy blink and bumps its head into his hand. “Close enough.”

They keep like that until the sun begins its descent. The street lamp right next to the side alley that’s always been extra hot flickers on.

“Deku, I’m moving to an apartment closer to the city,” Katsuki says, shoving his hands into his pockets. He can feel the brush of two cards. “You should come and visit me. I’ll get you your own room and everything, so you don’t need to worry about bringing anything.”

Deku’s grin is bright and sweet. “Thank you, Kacchan! I’m so blessed to have you in my life.”

All of Deku’s things, which had been sitting in his childhood bedroom, are set to move with him to his new apartment.

The very last thing he grabs is that charred, waterlogged notebook. And the first thing he does when arriving at his new place is shove it into an empty cabinet in his kitchen.

Being a rookie pro hero is brutal work. Katsuki has the worst hours and gets the most annoying cases. He spends most of his time at the agency and when he crawls back home, he’s so exhausted he’s asleep the second his head hits his pillow.

He runs into Deku less and less.

It’s a new place and they have no history here together. And Katsuki’s around people more and more. It’s difficult to gauge the hows and whys, but still, Katsuki is grateful whenever he comes home and Deku’s sitting on his couch.

They fall into new routines. Deku’s bouncing off the walls with excitement when he sees the room Katsuki had set up for him. It’s the most egregious looking room that Katsuki’s ever seen; he can still hardly believe that his own two hands put it together.

He has no idea how Deku ever went to sleep with all these All Might’s staring down at him.

Katsuki hands him his notebooks -- one through twelve. He’s looked through them hundreds of times since Auntie Inko had given them to him. The first half is mostly filled with cute drawings of Deku and All Might with words like “pow!” and “woosh!” surrounding them; there’s the start of some amateur quirk analysis and decent questions posed from a naturally curious child.

He’d been surprised to see how much of Kacchan was in there. Countless sketches of his red eyes and cocky grin and explosive hands. All these years, Deku had come up with so many ideas for ways to use his quirk and support items that may be useful to him.

The second half of the notebooks are more serious. It’s the start of more adequate quirk analysis and Katsuki can pinpoint the notebook where Deku had started chasing after hero fights. Many of his findings are genuinely insightful. Things Katsuki himself had never really bothered thinking of. It’s perceptive and intuitive.

And Katsuki can’t help but read it over and over again.

He can see Deku’s growth right there on the page. His growth stopped at number thirteen.

“Thank you so much, Kacchan!” Deku says as he stares down at the notebooks, glancing at the covers. “I’m so glad you have them. I still can’t find my latest notebook though -- number thirteen. Ah, I’ll have to look for it at some point.”

Katsuki wonders what kind of quirk analysis skills Deku would have today if he kept going. Maybe if he could just find that damn notebook.

The years pass by easily like this.

Katsuki keeps growing. His parents always comment how much of a man he’s grown into when he visits them. The angles of his face are sharp and defined, the last etches of boyhood completely gone from his face. His shoulders, arms, and chest have continued to broaden with his grueling pro hero work, easily making him stand out; as much as he tries to ignore it, he can see the inappropriate comments people make about him online.

He collects scar after scar after scar.

He’s a quick and efficient hero. And he walks around with a more quiet, mature confidence.

Despite Hobo’s warnings, Katsuki works alone as a pro hero and he prefers it that way. He’s gotten to the ranking of Number Two Pro Hero that way, sitting just under Denim Head.

A few of his classmates like Ponytail and Bird Boy work in the same area as him, but they usually have different patrols. The person he ends up seeing the most is Half and Half, who ended up taking over his dad’s agency after he graduated. They both work for some of the biggest and most prominent agencies in the country, so Katsuki will often run into him during team ups. Half and Half is still annoying as hell, but he’s more bearable now. Many of his classmates have apologized to him over the years for bothering him and pushing too far into his private life.

They’ve all grown and matured in their own ways.

So Katsuki keeps at it. He’s a diligent pro hero who always wins -- and almost always saves everyone.

And at the end of some days, he comes home to spend time with Deku.

When Katsuki finally becomes the Number One Pro Hero, everyone wants to celebrate. He grabs dinner with his parents. He shoots letters of gratitude to his teachers and mentors. He even logs into his socials to leave a post thanking his fans.

“Deku! Deku! Deku! Deku!”

For a week, Japan is drenched in that name.

His former classmates set up a night for all of them to celebrate together and Ponytail gently tugs him along when it looks as though he isn’t going to show.

“There he is! The man of the hour!” Dunce Face and Tape Arms cheer, beers clinking as they raise their hands. “Number One Pro Hero and Japan’s most eligible bachelor.”

“Not this shit again,” Katsuki grumbles, already feeling a headache coming on. “Bring that up and I’m leaving.”

The two put their hands up in surrender, but Katsuki can still hear their giggling. At least he’s gotten used to it.

The dinner actually goes pretty well all things considered. Katsuki has never bothered too much with keeping up with his classmates, so it’s kind of nice to hear how they’re doing. Round Face is neck deep in planning her wedding, Ears recently came out with a new album that’s doing decently on the charts, and Frog Girl is thinking of adopting a little kid she had saved on a case.

As adults, they’ve gotten a lot better at respecting his boundaries even if they still ask him a teasing question every once in a while, no one pushes him.

They all congratulate him for making Number One so early in his career and he mentions some of the non-confidential cases he’s worked on over the past year. They inquire into his personal life and he tells them his parents are doing well. They inquire into his dating life and he shuts them down.

The night of celebration carries on with drink after drink poured and cheers with each new announcement revealed. It’s hard -- being an adult. It’s busy and thankless.

Katsuki has never minded how often he sees his classmates, or, lack thereof. But he knows his classmates do and it’s been a long time since they were all together like this.

Katsuki’s grateful he sees Deku as often as he does, even if it’s not as often as he’d like.

As the night draws to a close, his former classmates slowly stumble out one by one. Katsuki has never been much for drinking, only pouring one glass of whiskey down, so he somehow ends up in charge of Shitty Hair, who’s stumbling around, and Half and Half, who’s completely slumped over onto their table.

Fucking fantastic.

They can stay on the fucking floor of his living room for the night or something.

“I’m sorry for all the prying you had to put up with over the years, man.” Shitty Hair’s words are half-slurred and slow as they leave his mouth. “I shouldn’t have just stood by. I should have stopped it!”

“Whatever,” Katsuki grumbles, already done with this conversation. He readjusts Half and Half who is now slumped over onto his shoulder. “Keep up and don’t run into anything.”

“After everything the class went through together, we all felt super close, you know? We all felt so bonded together, but it never felt like that with you, man. It was like there’s always been a wall around you that no one can get past,” Shitty Hair continues, words slurring together more and more with each step. “I think we realized that all we were doing was pushing you away. Not manly of us at all!”

Katsuki appreciates the apology, but it’s strange hearing the words. Maybe it’s that one glass of whiskey, but they sit oddly in his chest.

A part of him wants to say it’s not fully their fault; they never knew it was a futile effort. That his walls are his ribcage and it’s impossible to pass without getting set alight.

“Sorry, Bakugou,” Half and Half mumbles, almost tripping over his own feet. “It’s good you don’t read the class group chat; people think you’re keeping your mystery friend as your attic wife. I don’t-”

“Don’t tell him that!” Shitty Hair squawks, running straight first into Half and Half and sending them both careening into the ground. “It was a joke, Bakugou! He didn’t mean it!”

“Get off the ground, fucking losers.”

Katsuki’s never cared what the extras think, but it’s strange. After all these years of his classmates' horrible guesses about his life, that joke is the one that’s hit closest to home.

Somehow, they eventually make their way over to Katsuki’s place.

Deku isn’t there, of course.

It’s so obvious that Shitty Hair and Half and Half are looking around curiously, unable to hide their intrigue in their inebriated state. Outside of Deku and his parents, they’re the first ones to step inside.

“I didn’t realize you liked All Might so much,” Shitty Hair gawks as he glances around the living room. “I never would’ve guessed that from our first year, man.”

“Your place is larger than I thought for one person,” Half and Half mentions, holding onto the arm of his couch for dear life. “Have a guest room?”

“No,” Katsuki says, “you’re both sleeping on the floor. Make yourselves comfortable.”

Katsuki ignores their shouts of protest. He gets them glasses of water and some blankets as they both haphazardly balance themselves on his couch. He’ll make sure they leave early in the morning -- he doesn’t need them looking around any more than they already have.

“Kacchan, congratulations!” Deku beams up at him with a blinding smile. “You’ve always been my Image of Victory! Now everyone else can see it too. I always knew you could do it.”

Katsuki’s heart pounds at his ribs. “You’ve got the Number One Pro Hero training you now, Deku. You’re going to make it into U.A. without a problem.”

Four months.

It’s been four months since he’s run into Deku. It’s an awful new record.

At first, it makes sense. Katsuki gets a covert assignment that’s meant to take him out of the country for a few weeks. He’s Japan’s Number One. As annoying as it can be, he’s bound to get missions like that every once in a while, and it’s his responsibility to carry them out as one of the world’s greatest heroes.

The assignment lasts twice as long as it should have due to some bureaucratic nonsense and everyone’s general incompetence. He’s stuck in a small room with a bunch of idiots for hours on end because no one’s able to have a coherent thought apparently.

Fuck. Katsuki would give anything to be able to just call Deku.

Then, due to said ineptitude, Katsuki gets holed up in his agency for another week doing nothing but paperwork. Fuck, he hates paperwork.

He’d never realized just how much paperwork came with being a pro hero.

Finally, when Katsuki’s able to go back home, his eyes first glance over to his living room couch. Deku isn’t there, but that’s okay -- it’s normal. Katsuki checks his room. Same thing. Again, no cause for concern.

It’s just extra frustration on top of his already present fury.

Another week passes and Katsuki has taken to falling asleep in Deku’s room, all the All Might posters be damned. It’s creepy as fuck, just like Katsuki had always known it would be, but it’s comforting too.

The pillows don’t smell like anything.

Katsuki remembers what a messy person Deku could be sometimes. Not intentionally. It’s just that his mind moves so fast, he’d forget to clean up something, and he could be so clumsy, tripping over himself and spilling something.

Deku doesn’t leave any clothes on the floor because all he has is his gakuran.

His only mess is his collection of notebooks on his desk, just one missing.

Another week passes and Katsuki decides, for the first time in years, to take some time off work.

He goes back home to visit his parents. He visits the convenience store and pets the cats in the side alley. The old man gruffly and reluctantly asks for an autograph. He doesn’t give it, obviously. Fucker.

He walks across the hot sands of Takoba Beach Park and watches the waves lapping against the shore.

He goes to that stupid river and sits on the log there for so long that his legs go numb.

Katsuki’s sitting alone beneath the sakura trees of Aldera Junior High School when a bunch of middle schoolers approach him, begging for The Deku’s autograph. He does give it to them, but it feels strange writing the signature at the koi pond of all places -- in a brat’s notebook of all things.

He returns home without ever running into Deku.

Katsuki’s never felt the urge to tell someone so much just so he doesn’t feel like he’s losing his mind; he has half of Auntie Inko’s number tapped into his phone before he knocks some sense back into himself.

He decides to call Deku’s number just because. It’s still active; Auntie Inko must’ve never gotten around to disconnecting it, or maybe she never wanted to.

Katsuki doesn’t leave a voicemail.

Another week passes and he willingly goes to a tea shop with Ponytail. It doesn’t take his mind off of it and Ponytail can sense something’s up with him, but he doesn’t tell her anything.

Katsuki sometimes wonders what a licensed psychiatrist would say if he were to approach them; he’s never actually considered it, insistently turning down his mother’s every offer to talk with a professional, but it does cross his mind.

Another week passes and Katsuki feels as though he’s actually losing it.

Has Deku ever been here? What proof does he have but his own possibly fractured mind?

Katsuki’s the greatest hero and he feels as though he’s crumbling to his knees with the fire and grief in his chest.

He’s going fucking crazy. He needs to do something. He needs to fix this. He needs Deku. He needs-

“Kacchan, aren’t you going to make something? It’s almost dinnertime,” Deku points out. He’s sitting at his kitchen counter, feet dangling from his stool. Deku is haloed by the evening light, casting him in the warmest colors imaginable; it’s as though he’s glowing with it.

Deku barely feels solid in his arms. Like he’s moments away from disappearing yet again. Katsuki holds on as though it’s his last life line, wrapping the small boy up in his strong, muscular arms till he feels somewhere close to actually being here.

Slowly, Deku lifts his own arms and hugs back. “We were just petting cats together, weren’t we?” Deku says with a light laugh. “I missed you too, Kacchan.”

Holding Deku isn’t enough. Not after the past four months.

It’s like he needs to crawl into Deku’s chest the same way Deku’s made home in his wounded heart.

Deku’s so small and he’s holding him so tight, it’s laughably easy to pick him up.

Deku’s so light. Has he always been this light? Was he this weightless at Aldera?

“Kacchan,” he whispers as he gently places him on his bed. His hands grip at the back of Katsuki’s shirt. Katsuki’s broad enough he has a hard time fully wrapping his arms around him.

Katsuki places a soft kiss on Deku’s plush lips. They feel warm and solid, and Katsuki can feel the heat thrumming through him. Kiss after kiss, he places them everywhere he can reach: Deku’s adorably freckled cheeks, his forehead that’s usually half-hidden by his bangs, at the sensitive spot beneath his ear.

Deku squirms beneath him, face flushing at the attention. “Kacchan,” he says again, adoration clear in his tone.

Hovering over him like this, Deku looks especially small in comparison. Katsuki positions himself between Deku’s plush thighs, Deku’s small hands holding the large expanse of his shoulders and his bony knees digging into his sides. If Katsuki were to fully lean forward, he’d probably smother him.

Katsuki just stares at him. The boy that’s never been able to leave him. The boy that he never wants to leave him.

The dark flush on his cheeks makes his freckles stand out more.

“You’re so pretty, Deku,” Katsuki remarks, leaning down to press a kiss to every freckle he can spot -- he has them all memorized. It’s difficult to resist the urge to bite one of Deku’s chubby cheeks, so he doesn’t resist it.

“Kacchan!” Deku laughs, rubbing at the teeth marks now marring his youthful face. “You used to do that when you were a kid, remember? I can’t believe you kept up the habit.”

Katsuki shrugs and bites at the other cheek and then nuzzles into his tiny neck, pressing kisses down the column of his throat. Deku lets out a startled gasp, squirming beneath him.

Katsuki’s voice comes out in harsh breaths as he tugs at Deku’s gakuran. “Fuck, please, Deku? Can I?”

Deku nods quickly, visibly gulping. “I want anything you’ll give me, Kacchan.”

With each button, more and more of Deku is revealed to him. He takes off his suit jacket and shirt, and admires the canvas of pale skin dotted with stray freckles, and the pink perky nipples that are just begging to be touched.

“You’re so beautiful,” Katsuki murmurs against his skin, leaving heated kisses and hickeys down Deku’s chest. He softly bites the areas that have Deku panting and moaning, sucking on the skin till it’s bruised, and kissing it gently as an apology. “I can’t believe you’re here, Deku. Here and all mine.”

“Ngh, Kacchan!” Deku cries out as Katsuki’s lips brush against his nipple. Deku’s a whimpering, trembling mess as Katsuki lavishes him, taking turns between sucking and biting. He brings a hand up to play with his other nipple, rolling it between his large, adept fingers.

Deku bites back his sweet moans when Katsuki switches nipples, giving the other the same attention.

“Let me hear you, Deku,” Katsuki says with a note of wonder, gently grabbing his chin and opening Deku’s kiss-swollen lips. His hand is big enough, it could cover Deku’s face. “I want to remember these sounds for the rest of my life.”

Deku lets out a shaky breath. “It’s embarrassing, Kacchan.”

“It’s not, Deku. You sound so good, so pretty,” Katsuki murmurs against his ear, grinning at the way Deku shivers. “I can’t believe I’m the reason you’re making those little noises. I’m so lucky, Deku.”

“I’m lucky, Kacchan,” Deku responds, tugging at Katsuki’s shirt. He takes it off in one swift motion. “I still can’t believe you like me sometimes. I’m so grateful when it comes to you.”

Katsuki kisses him soundly, biting at his bottom lip and licking into Deku’s mouth.

Deku cries out his name between kisses as Katsuki keeps playing with his nipples, lavishing them to the point of oversensitivity. “Kacchan, please,” he cries out breathily, “I can take more.”

Katsuki’s groan is low in his throat. “Fuck, Deku. Do you even know what you do to me? You make me lose my fucking mind.”

With careful hands, Katsuki tugs off the rest of Deku’s gakuran and then the rest of his own clothes follow suit.

Deku looks so fragile. Like one press too hard or grab too firm and Katsuki could break him. Like he’s one touch away from ruin.

He could almost wrap his hands entirely around Deku’s waist. He drops one hand to cup at Deku’s ass, one palm covering a cheek entirely. And Deku’s dick, though it’s fully hard, looks small, especially in comparison to his own girth.

Oh, how desperately Katsuki wants to ruin him right now.

His half-hard cock throbs as a sick thrill of pleasure rushes through him.

Deku glances downward and his eyes open wide in shock. He always looks like that every time he sees Katsuki’s cock. “Kacchan really is amazing.”

Katsuki’s grin is near feral.

“Look at you, Deku. So pretty beneath me,” Katsuki croons as he plays with Deku’s cock, basking in the jolts his touch brings and the babblings of sweet words and sounds. Katsuki’s hand moves downwards, fingertips tracing Deku’s sensitive skin. “Your body is practically aching for me.”

Katsuki feels that same ache.

“Please, Deku.” Katsuki has never been so okay with begging. His fingers graze Deku’s puckered entrance -- soft and pink and adorable -- and gently press, not enough to enter, but enough to add a bit of pressure. “Let me make you feel good. I want to make you feel good, baby.”

Deku gives a shy nod before eagerly opening his legs further. “I want to make you feel good too, Kacchan.”

Katsuki pets at the small of his back reassuringly and grabs the lube he keeps in his nightstand with his other hand. “You will, Deku. You already are.”

He coats his fingers, slickening them with a copious amount of lube before reaching to play with Deku’s entrance. It’s so tight and soft, and Deku is so eager, thrusting his hips to rub back into his fingers.

Katsuki keeps kissing down the rest of Deku’s body, leaving a path of love bites and hickeys in his wake -- down to his stomach, his hips, his inner thighs.

“Kacchan,” Deku whines as Katsuki finally presses in his first finger.

Deku is so warm around his finger, walls velvety soft and enticing, inviting him to sink in and fill him up. “I got you, Deku,” Katsuki promises. “I have you and I’m not going to let you go, baby.”

Deku quivers as he fingers him open, slowly adjusting to the size of Katsuki’s digit. He’s letting out short, breathless pants, bright flush going all the way down to the hickeys littering his chest.

He feels so good and sweet around his finger, Katsuki just wants to keep pressing in and listen to the delectable noises leaving Deku’s trembling, bitten-raw lips.

Slowly, Katsuki presses another finger inside, grinning as Deku mewls, chanting his name like a prayer through ragged breaths. He opens him up with gentle, demanding fingers as Deku clenches around him.

When it’s time for his third finger, Deku’s legs won’t stop trembling. He plays with Deku’s hole, coating it in lube as he drags his fingers around Deku’s reddened rim.

“Kacchan, I need you-” Deku sobs out, eyes wide and watery as he stares up at Katsuki.

“You have me, baby. You’ve always had me,” Katsuki croons as he pressed all three fingers inside. “Always.”

Pre-come drips down Deku’s cock as he lets out a wanton moan. “Kacchan!”

Katsuki presses even deeper, even harder, as he holds Deku’s quivering, small body in place. With their size and strength difference, it’s an impossibly easy task. “You’re so tight and hot, Deku. Do you see the way you’re sucking my fingers in? Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

Deku lets out a strangled gasp as he presses in again, body lurching and shuddering with untold pressure. Katsuki keeps pressing there, heat and pleasure flooding his chest as his eyes take in the sight of Deku sobbing and shuddering before him.

“Yes, yes, Kacchan,” Deku cries out, “I want you. All of you.”

Katsuki can feel something building beneath his skin, buzzing through his veins. Hunger. Dark, sinful, and desperate.

Katsuki knows he has a large cock -- thick and girthy and hot. But right now, with Deku beneath him, his cock sitting at the plush of Deku’s ass, it seems impossibly big.

“Is it going to fit?” Deku asks, blinking up at him with wonder as Katsuki pours out more lube.

Katsuki grabs his ass, lifting him towards him. “Don’t worry about that, baby,” Katsuki murmurs, trying to sound reassuring and probably coming off as predatory. “I’m going to make sure it fits.”

Deku nods and bites his lips, wriggling his hips in Katsuki’s hold.

Deku lets out a whine at the back of his throat at the pressure of Katsuki’s large cockhead at his entrance. Even stretched out and slickened, it’s going to take some work. Katsuki’s effortlessly holding him down as he drapes himself over Deku’s body and grinds against his hole, Deku’s small dick brushing against his stone-cut abs, and his swollen nipples feathering over his hard pecs.

“I’ve got you, Deku,” Katsuki murmurs against his ear, offering gentle assurance and sweet praise till Deku’s smiling sweetly at his words. And then, finally, he starts to press inside.

Deku is so fucking hot and tight. Heat pools in his belly as Deku pants beneath him, melting at Katsuki’s touch.

It’s like a vice grip around him as he slowly works himself inside. Soft gentle grinds of his hips and shallow thrusts that leave them both aching for it.

Katsuki’s cockhead stretches at his rim, reddening it further with each movement, the slick of lube making the most obscene sounds.

Deku lets out a strangled exhale, his toes curling, tears painting his face, when it’s finally inside. “I can’t believe it, I have Kacchan inside of me,” Deku seems to whisper almost to himself. “Kacchan’s so big. I feel so full.”

Katsuki can feel the back of his ears burning and his dick twitches violently. “Uhm, Deku… that was just the tip.”

He blinks up at him in shock. “There’s more?!”

Katsuki shushes him, petting his cheek -- bite mark included -- and pressing a kiss in his debauched hair. “Remember what I said? I’ll take care of you, Deku. I’ll make it fit.”

He keeps going like that. Slowly, slowly pressing inside. And just when it looks like too much, pulling back and grinding into Deku’s small, flushed body. He pets at the swell of Deku’s ass and leaves little bites in the crook of Deku’s neck.

“You’re so good, baby,” Katsuki purrs as he gives another shallow thrust, heat slowly enveloping him. “Look at the way your body’s giving into me, like you were made to take me. Fuck, baby.”

Little by little, inch by inch, Katsuki pushes inside of him. Each movement forces needy, little choked out gasps to leave Deku’s lips as Katsuki rearranges his guts and brushes against his prostate. Until finally, Katsuki’s fully inside him.

It's overwhelming. Everything about Deku is.

If Katsuki had thought his cock looked impossibly large before, it’s an even more debauched sight now -- the outline of his dick pressed against Deku’s stomach.

Katsuki presses at the bulge and they both groan.

He’s inside of Deku. He’s fully seated inside of Deku. It feels indescribable. He can’t believe it. Tight warm walls clenching around him perfectly. Deku’s ass flush against his hips. He can’t believe this is happening-

“Kacchan, you’re crying,” Deku whispers, voice soft and sweet. He wipes at a falling tear with his fingertips.

Katsuki barks out a deep laugh, half-choking on the sound. “Yeah, so are you, Deku.”

Deku’s laugh is watery and shaky, and it’s probably one of the most beautiful things Katsuki’s ever heard. “I feel like we’re crying for different reasons.”

Katsuki starts grinding against his entrance, rolling his hips in slow, languid movements. “You sure about that, nerd?”

Deku holds onto his broad shoulders as he screams, his fingers pressing against a new battle scar, “Kacchan!”

Katsuki grits his teeth as Deku’s hole spasms around him, like it’s trying to suck him in even further. Somehow connect them even more.

Katsuki presses the softest, featherlight kiss at the corner of Deku’s whining mouth. “I love you, Deku, so please, stay.”

“I- I love you too, Kacchan,” Deku says with reverence, fingers curling into Katsuki’s blond hair. “Where else would I go?”

Katsuki’s holding him with a bruising strength, leaving marks that would last for days if Deku were ever around that long.

“You feel so good around me. Stuffed full of me,” Katsuki groans as he rolls his hips into Deku’s giving body. “I want this, Deku. For the rest of my- our lives.”

Deku lets out soft chirping noises with every bout of praise and adoration. Katsuki’s thrusts get deeper and deeper, pushing harder and harder, until he’s dragging his thick cock almost all the way out, just his head sitting inside, before slamming back into him with a grunt.

“Fucking take me so well. So good, Deku,” Katsuki pants against Deku’s neck, railing into him as Deku chokes out a scream. “Fuck, I love you, baby.”

“Kacchan!” Deku wails, overwhelmed with unbridled pleasure.

Katsuki’s thrusts get faster, pounding into Deku’s body as heat continues pooling in his gut. Soft “ah, ah, ah’s” leave Deku’s lips as he tries to meet the slam of Katsuki’s hips, still held in place by Katsuki’s large, unyielding body.

He rams into him over and over as white, hot arousal builds; he wraps his large hands completely around Deku’s waist, each thrust to his prostate punching out broken, keening noises from Deku’s wrecked throat. Like if he can get deep enough, maybe this moment can last forever.

With his unrelenting pace, Deku sobs out a desperate wail as he convulses around him, coming untouched onto himself and Katsuki’s abs. Katsuki follows soon after with a shout, fireworks dotting his vision, biting at Deku’s neck and giving one final slam into him before stuffing him to the brim with his come.

“Love you, nerd,” Katsuki says breathlessly against Deku’s hair as he gently pulls out, careful not to hurt the oversensitive boy.

Katsuki looks down at the boy beneath him, littered in hickeys and bite marks and bruises, come seeping slowly out of his overstretched, reddened hole. Deku’s eyes are closed as he basks in the afterglow, noisy breaths and whimpers leaving his lips as he tries to get more air into his lungs.

He fully ruined him.

Katsuki presses a soft, loving kiss on Deku’s forehead before heading into the bathroom. He should take care of him, lavish him with warmth and praise and love and attention for as long as he’ll stay.

When Katsuki walks back out with a washcloth, Deku is gone. His own tears are still staining his bedsheets.

It’s guilt on top of guilt on top of guilt on top of guilt.

Katsuki doesn’t normally walk home this way. It was all chance, really. A time and a place. Maybe it’s the inevitable outcome that’d been slowly crawling forward since he was a child, grin fierce as he held a soft, freckled hand -- the last falling domino, the finishing touch of a painting, a frayed thread finally snapping.

He’d been out with his lackeys. He was quick to dismiss their protests as he left, with harsh words and sparks in his hands; he has homework to do, still top of his class, and he’ll be damned if he falls behind for any reason. And so, late in the afternoon on a random school day, the orange of the sun peeking out behind rolling clouds, Katsuki happens to pass by Aldera Junior High School.

A time and a place.

Deku’s standing on the edge of the rooftop. He’s not crying big, fat tears or shaking like a leaf in the wind.

He’s still. Eerily so. As though his body is straining with the effort to not move a single muscle. His face is blank. Katsuki’s too far away to see the look in his eyes.

His body moves before he even has a chance to think.

Explosions erupt from his palms with such a force, his muscles strain and twitch from the recoil. His stomach plummets to the ground as he screams out, his own voice sounding foreign to him, “Deku!”

An infinity happens in that moment. And still, it happens so fast.

Had his explosions startled him into careening off the ledge? Was he already falling forward before Katsuki had even noticed him? Did the sound of his voice burn away Deku’s final straw? Were the-

Deku steps off the ledge.

Katsuki’s never made explosions with such intensity behind them before, but Deku’s in freefall before his very eyes and- Katsuki, he- he’s not going to get there in time.

He’s-

Katsuki’s red eyes go wide as what’s about to happen flashes before him like a glitching film strip. Deku’s bent and bloody body. A final breath caught in his throat. Green eyes glassy.

His heart stutters in his chest. Thump. Thu-thump. He needs to get there-

He needs to save him-

He needs to-

The sound Deku’s body makes as it hits the ground is sickening.

Bile rises in Katsuki’s throat as he staggers towards Deku’s broken form; his limbs are all awful and twisted as blood quickly pools around him. It soaks through Katsuki’s pants as he falls to his knees beside him.

Deku’s body is so light in his arms. He feels nauseated and panicked and terrified, but the foremost thought in his mind is that he has to somehow -- somehow -- undo what Deku just did.

“K-Kacchan-” Deku chokes out softly, red staining his lips. There’s an unreadable look in those green eyes -- eyes he’s known as long as he’s known himself -- before they start to dim.

There’s ice in his veins and something thrumming just beneath his skin. He’s holding Deku’s body so tightly, he’d be afraid of breaking it any further, but blood is still seeping through his fingertips and staining his skin forever.

“No, no- De- Izuku, fuck, stay with me,” the words burn on Katsuki’s tongue, his heart beating so viciously against his ribs, he might throw it up.

Deku’s body is warm, but there’s no light in his eyes and his head, cradled in Katsuki’s hand, hangs pathetic and limp. It’s wrong. Everything about this is so, so wrong, and Katsuki doesn’t know what to do. How to fix this. How can he save Deku when his heart has stopped beating? When he’s the one who told him to-

'No, please. No, nononono-’

Everything feels like static. Everything feels so horribly numb.

His eyes are burning almost as much as his chest, like an explosion gone off where his heart should be. “Deku, c’mon, nerd, don’t do this. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Please!"

Breathing is a monumental effort; like when one first steps out into frozen winter air and inhales so deep, it reaches their lungs. Katsuki’s shaking hands try to hold steady compressions against his chest. He knows the amount of force he needs to exert to keep someone alive. He’s taken first aid before; his mom made him when he was young, when he got the idea of being a hero in his head.

But this isn’t just someone, this is Deku. Bright-eyed, mumbling, heart of gold, Deku. Whose heart isn’t starting. And all Katsuki can feel is the intensity of his compressions breaking already broken ribs.

‘Please, please, please. Don’t let this be true. Wake up so I can tell you how sorry I am.’

Blood smears around Katsuki’s lips when he presses his mouth against Deku’s own and exhales.

Deku’s lips are soft and plush. It’s an unimaginable version of the growing fantasies and wet dreams he has in the dead of night -- and that he punishes Deku for in the daytime.

Katsuki can feel a hysterical sort of laughter bubble up in his throat.

He’s trying to think, but everything going through his head seems so senseless, like he’s trying to piece together an equation and he’s missing half the variables. His limbs are growing heavy and exhausted from the effort, but he refuses to stop, even if he’s just pounding at Deku’s still chest at this point, screaming barely coherent curses between aching breaths.

Eventually the sirens buzzing in the background get closer and there are people dragging a shouting Katsuki away from Deku’s body. Someone must’ve called them. Katsuki hadn’t paid much attention to the extras around him.

He can see the paramedics talking quickly as they take him away and do whatever they can to undo Katsuki’s mistakes.

But Katsuki knows. He knows.

There’s blood staining his hands, his pants, his lips -- Deku’s blood staining his soul. He’ll never be able to wash all this blood off.

Katsuki stares at the puddle of red on the ground, seeping into the concrete, and laughs.

Then his feet are carrying him to the roof.

He grabs the notebook.

Maybe one day, Izuku will figure it out. Maybe one day, Kacchan will let him.

Maybe one day, he will finally, finally let him go.

But right now, Deku’s sitting on his couch clutching at a throw pillow. His gakuran is ruffled. One of his chubby, freckled cheeks is red from how it was squished against the arm of the couch earlier. Katsuki’s TV is playing the evening news. There had been a villain attack earlier and a trio of rookie heroes had been first on the scene. Deku’s mumbling up a storm as Katsuki cooks himself dinner, ignoring the cabinet to his right.

He lets the feeling of home and comfort and warmth wash over him.

It’s good analysis as always. It’ll be helpful for when Deku applies to U.A. For when he finally becomes a hero.

For when he gets better.