Chapter Text
By the time the third year rolled around, nothing had really changed between them. Not in any obvious way, at least.
Izuku didn’t waste energy trying to read Katsuki’s expressions anymore, nor did he hover around waiting for a word of acknowledgment. That version of himself was long gone. His life felt quieter now, clearer. He had friends of his own, study groups, and casual conversations with classmates. It wasn’t about proving anything anymore. And still, Katsuki was always there.
Never too close, never too far. A steady presence in the background, loud without needing to say a thing.
On the other hand, things had settled into a kind of routine for Katsuki. He wasn’t exactly the “loner” he’d been back in middle school—somewhere along the way, a few persistent extras had stuck around. That loud redhead with the too-wide grin. The pink-haired girl who joked too much. The blonde idiot who never shut up.
Kirishima, Ashido and Kaminari.
He never really planned on having a group. But they worked—loud enough to match him, smart enough not to get in his way.
Most days, they walked together after school. Sat near him at lunch. Filled the spaces he used to leave empty.
Not that it mattered. Not really.
Classes went on like that for a while—predictable and steady enough so that Izuku stopped expecting surprises or complications between him and Katsuki. It was easier when they didn’t have to interact. Which is why, when their homeroom teacher assigned final project partners, fate—or karma—decided to laugh.
“Midoriya. Bakugou. You’ll be working together.”
The classroom didn’t even pretend not to react.
Kaminari let out a low whistle. Mina nudged Kirishima with her elbow and whispered something. Izuku caught all of it but kept his face neutral, pen tapping steadily against his notebook.
Katsuki didn’t say a word, though Izuku didn’t miss how his shoulders tensed slightly.
Later that day, Katsuki found himself walking home with his usual group: Kirishima, Mina, and Kaminari, backpacks slung over their shoulders, half-listening to whatever nonsense Kaminari was rambling about.
It wasn’t until Mina brought it up that Katsuki tuned back in.
“So,” she said, smiling too innocently to be trusted, “group project with Midoriya, huh?”
Kaminari snorted. “Man, that’s gonna be a mess.”
“It’s not a big deal,” Katsuki muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets.
Kirishima raised an eyebrow. “You sure, bro? Thought you two couldn’t share air without it turning into a fight.”
Katsuki clicked his tongue, eyes narrowed. “Tch. I don’t give a shit. It’s just a project.”
Mina grinned, leaning in closer. “You say that, but you get weird every time his name comes up.”
“I don’t,” Katsuki snapped automatically.
“Yeah, dude, you kind of do,” Kaminari added, grinning in that way that made Katsuki want to punch him.
“Shut up.”
They all laughed, not malicious, just easy, familiar teasing. Katsuki scowled but didn’t push it further.
By the time he got home, he was still thinking about it, though.
The next day after school, Izuku stood outside Katsuki’s house with his bag over his shoulder. Katsuki had suggested his place, saying it’d be faster without other people around to slow them down. His parents wouldn’t be home until late, so there wouldn’t be anyone hovering around them.
Izuku rang the bell once and waited.
When the door opened, Katsuki stood there in a black t-shirt and sweatpants, barefoot, looking more relaxed than usual but no less sharp around the edges.
“You’re late,” Katsuki said instead of hello.
“By two minutes,” Izuku replied evenly, stepping inside. “Don’t get dramatic.”
Katsuki just scoffed and shut the door behind him.
They set up at the dining table, notebooks and papers spread out between them. For the first half hour, things were quiet, mostly. Occasional comments about the assignment, nothing personal.
But nothing ever stayed calm between them for too long.
Izuku could feel it building, like static in the air.
And sure enough, it only took one sideways comment to spark it.
“That’s wrong,” Katsuki said, glancing over Izuku’s notes.
“It’s not,” Izuku shot back, voice clipped.
Katsuki leaned over, pointing at the page. “You missed a step.”
Izuku’s jaw tightened. “I know what I’m doing.”
“Doesn’t look like it.”
Izuku closed his notebook with deliberate calm. His voice was steady but cold.
“Why do you always do this?”
Katsuki frowned. “Do what?”
“Act like everyone’s beneath you. Like you can’t stand the idea of me not being some helpless kid anymore.”
Katsuki’s eyes narrowed, voice dropping lower. “Don’t put words in my mouth, Deku.”
“Then say it yourself.”
Katsuki’s hands flexed at his sides. That tight jaw clench again.
“Wanna say that again, nerd?.”
Izuku didn’t stutter.
“I said maybe you should pull your head out of your ass for once and accept that I’m not your little shadow anymore, Katsuki.”
Silence stretched between them, sharp enough to cut.
And then, like a fuse had been lit, both stood up at once.
Chairs scraped back.
Katsuki grabbed Izuku by the front of his shirt.
Izuku didn’t flinch—he shoved Katsuki right back, hard enough to make him stumble.
That was it.
The next second, they were pushing, shoving, fists swinging—not clean hits, just raw, messy frustration finally spilling over.
Izuku caught Katsuki in the ribs. Katsuki grabbed Izuku’s collar again, slamming him against the wall with a rough grunt.
“Fucking bastard,” Katsuki hissed.
“You’re one to talk,” Izuku snapped, shoving him back with both hands.
Neither of them was thinking anymore. Not about the project. Not about school. Just heat and anger and something else underneath it, neither wanted to name.
By the time they stopped, both were breathing hard, sweat sticking to their skin. Katsuki had Izuku pinned against the wall again, but there was no force behind it now. Just… stillness.
Their faces were close, too close.
Izuku’s hands were still fisted in Katsuki’s shirt.
Katsuki’s grip had loosened, fingers almost curling against Izuku’s collarbone instead of pushing.
For a moment, neither moved.
Their breathing slowed just slightly, and Izuku’s eyes flicked down for a second—barely noticeable—but Katsuki caught it.
That was when it hit them both.
They let go at the same time, stepping back like they’d been burned.
Katsuki’s voice came rough, quieter now.
“Just leave, Deku.”
Izuku wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, even though there was nothing there, trying to steady his breathing.
He didn’t say anything.
Didn’t need to.
He grabbed his bag off the floor, slinging it over one shoulder without looking back.
At the door, he paused, voice low but steady.
“See you at school.”
And just like that, he left.
The room felt bigger after he was gone.
Quieter.
Katsuki stood there for a while, staring at the spot where Izuku had been, hands flexing at his sides.
End of backstory.