Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

They met when they were little, on a sunny summer afternoon in their neighborhood park.

Katsuki was loud from the start, with spiked-up blonde hair and a voice sharper than any other kid, already too confident for someone who couldn’t tie his shoes properly. The kind of kid who didn’t think before speaking.

He had a scraped knee and a toy in one hand; Izuku watched him for a while before getting the courage to speak. “Is that...All Might?” he asked, pointing.

Katsuki blinked at him, a little suspicious. “Yeah, it is. Why?”

“Oh, nothing bad,” Izuku replied, eyes wide. “I like All Might too!” he added, smiling.

Something in Katsuki’s expression shifted, as if he hadn’t quite expected that answer, but it made him feel happy, and that was how it started. They were inseparable for a while. Katsuki would boss the other kids around, and Izuku would follow him like a shadow. Katsuki was bold and wild and always three steps ahead.
And Izuku didn’t mind staying a few steps behind.

Not at first.

Things started to change in middle school. Katsuki was still the loudest boy in the room with an unnecessary need to boss people around. But now, people started paying attention to him in a different way. Teachers praised his test scores. Older kids knew his name. He won races, spelling bees and soccer matches. Everything.

And Izuku, he was good. Just not exceptional, not good enough for the praise. He still tried to keep up. He stayed late after school to study, joined the same clubs and even started running laps around the track after Katsuki mentioned joining the soccer team.

But Katsuki didn’t like that, and he made it clear. The offensive comments, the nicknames—all of it started to appear more frequently between them; to anybody watching from outside, it was clearer than ever that Katsuki didn't like Izuku anymore, and even tolerating him seemed harder for the blonde.

One afternoon after practice, Katsuki tossed his bag on the ground and said, “Why do you keep copying me, Deku?”

Izuku blinked. “I’m not copying you, Kacchan. I just- I think it’s cool. I want to try too.”

“That’s pathetic,” Katsuki snapped. “You think if you do the same shit I do, people will look at you the same way, huh?”

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to, idiot.”

The words weren’t shouted. They were flat. Dismissive. Worse than yelling.

That was the first time Izuku realized he might be… annoying. Maybe even unwanted. Still, he didn’t stop. Not really. He kept orbiting around Katsuki in quiet ways, still signed up for the same classes, still passed him water bottles at practice and still offered help on homework.

Until one day, Katsuki shoved him against a locker in front of everyone.

“You don’t get it, do you, shitnerd?” he growled. “I don’t need you around all the damn time. I don’t want you around.”

And Izuku—tired, embarrassed, heart racing—finally snapped.

“Then maybe you should stop acting like you’re the center of the universe, Katsuki” he said, not loud but firmly and clear enough for the blonde to understand. He pushed Katsuki off him.

Katsuki stared, stunned.

It was the first time Deku pushed back.

It was the first time Deku called him by his name, not Kacchan, just Katsuki.

From that day on, they weren’t friends. Not really. Not enemies, either. Just… something else. Something tense and sharp-edged. The kind of thing people noticed without knowing how to pinpoint what it was.

They sat on opposite sides of the classroom, but always ended up in the same group projects. They never made plans together, but somehow arrived at the same places.
Like the universe didn't accept their paths being away from each other.

By the time they got to high school, people called it a rivalry.

But neither of them ever used that word.

Chapter Text

The hallway still echoed with the sound of lockers slamming shut and sneakers squeaking across the tile floors when Izuku walked away.

His heart was pounding. His palms were sweating. Every nerve in his body was buzzing like a live wire.

He’d said it.

He’d actually said it.

"Then maybe you should stop acting like you're the center of the universe, Katsuki."

Not Kacchan. Not a nickname softened by years of history and familiarity. He used his name. Sharp. Final.

Izuku didn’t look back. He walked down the hallway with shaky steps, pretending he hadn’t just declared war on someone who used to be his whole world. But even with the anxiety swirling in his stomach, a strange sense of satisfaction bloomed quietly in his chest. It wasn’t pride, exactly. Just a feeling he hadn't experienced in a long time: power.

That night, he couldn’t sleep. His brain wouldn’t stop replaying the moment: the way Katsuki’s mouth had opened slightly in shock, the stunned silence, the pure disbelief in his eyes. Izuku had spent years chasing Katsuki’s approval, always one step behind, always apologizing. But that moment—those words—felt like the first time he stepped out of that shadow.

It hadn’t been planned. It just came out, like it had been buried inside him for too long. It was terrifying.

And maybe, just a little, it felt like winning.

Katsuki didn’t sleep that night either. He laid flat on his back, staring at the ceiling as if it had the answers he needed.

What the hell had just happened?

He kept seeing Midoriya’s face. Not the usual nervous one, but the one that looked right at him.
Calm.
Steady.
Almost angry.
That look that came after Midoriya shoved him back and called him by his name. Katsuki.

Not Kacchan.
Not Bakugou.
Just... Katsuki.

He said it like he meant it. Like he wanted distance. Like he didn’t care anymore.

It was weird, annoying and frustrating.

He wasn’t supposed to care.

But he did.

They didn’t talk the next day. Or the day after that.

Midoriya didn’t glance at him in class. During gym, he didn’t try to keep pace. He didn’t offer water bottles or scribble homework notes. He just... existed, still nearby, just not around him.

And Katsuki noticed that. Every damn time.

Weeks had passed and the weather changed, it turned into the kind of winter that made your fingers numb enough to hurt.

By the last stretch of the semester, Midoriya was different.

He still smiled, still helped classmates, still said “excuse me” when he bumped into someone, but there was a shift. He laughed with confidence now, he answered questions in class without stumbling, he walked into rooms like he belonged in them.

And Katsuki couldn’t. stop. noticing.

He told himself it didn’t matter, that he was still on top and that nothing had really changed.

Except, somehow, everything had.

Every time he caught himself staring across the room, or zoning out mid-practice because a piece of green hair flashed in his peripheral vision, he got pissed.

Mostly at himself.

A few days before winter break, their homeroom teacher clapped her hands to get the class’s attention.

“Alright! Final group project before the holidays. You’ll be working in teams of four to complete an advanced math project. Presentations are due Friday.”

There was a collective groan from the class.

Katsuki didn’t care who he got. As long as they didn’t slow him down.

Fate had other plans.

“Group three: Midoriya, Bakugou, Tanaka, and Saito.”

Perfect.
Just. Perfect.

They met at the back of the library after school. Midoriya was already there, flipping through his notebook like it was no big deal. He wore a green hoodie and black jeans, his hair messier as usual. He didn’t look nervous.

Katsuki slammed his bag down and sat across from him.

Tanaka and Saito—two quiet guys from the back row who probably didn’t deserve what was coming—joined them moments later, both already looking like they regretted every life choice that brought them there.

“So,” Tanaka started, a little too cheerfully, “I think if we divide the worksheet by section, we can each do a part and combine them later after-"

“No,” Katsuki cut in. “We will work through the hard problems together so no one screws up the final.”

“Well, yeah, but I really think splitting could save us time-"

“We’re not splitting.”

Midoriya looked up. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea. We just need to make sure the process is consistent.”

Katsuki glared. “You don’t even know what section you’re good at.”

Midoriya didn’t flinch. “I’ve read the rubric. And unlike some people, I don’t assume everyone else is useless.”

Saito made a choking sound and looked away, already planning a new life overseas.

Katsuki leaned in. “You wanna say that again, nerd?”

“I said,” Midoriya replied, voice calm and steady, “that you’re not the only one in this group who knows what he’s doing.”

Tanaka opened his textbook like it might shield him from what was happening.

“Okay,” he muttered, “sooo why not combine both ideas...? ...Maybe?”

They ignored him.

Katsuki snapped, “Fine. Prove it. Page 64. Problem 12.”

Midoriya sighed and started solving. He worked quickly, pencil scratching across paper. After two minutes, he passed the notebook over.

Katsuki scanned the solution.

It was right.

And he hated that.

“Whatever,” he said “Try not to slow us down"

“I’m literally the one speeding things up” Midoriya replied back.

Tanaka and Saito shared a long worried look.

They worked through half the worksheet with only minor casualties. Every suggestion was a minefield. Every correction a potential spark.

At one point, Tanaka tried to ease the tension.

“At least this isn’t chemistry, right guys?”

“Shut up.” Katsuki and Midoriya said in unison.

By the end of the session, the math was done and so was everyone’s patience.

Midoriya packed his things. “Same time tomorrow?”

Katsuki shrugged. “Fine.”

Tanaka raised a cautious hand. “Uh... no fighting next time maybe?”

“Say that to him,” they said pointing at each other, again in unison.

Both looked away as fast as they could

Later that night, Katsuki sat at his desk, textbook open but unread.

He couldn’t focus. All he could think about was how damn Deku didn’t hesitate. How he met every challenge with that same quiet confidence.

He looked different.

Not just his physique or his posture. The way he spoke. The way he didn’t shrink anymore. Katsuki wasn’t really sure if he respected it or hated it.

He closed the book, slammed it shut, and dropped into bed face-first with a growl.

Why the hell couldn’t he stop thinking about that damn nerd?

Meanwhile, in his own room, Midoriya was surrounded by highlighters and papers, grinning faintly to himself.

For once, standing his ground hadn’t come with guilt or fear.

He wasn’t trying to fight.

He was just done losing.

And that, somehow, felt better than anything Katsuki had ever said to him.

Chapter Text

Summer break was longer than it needed to be, and shorter than either of them expected.

Izuku filled his days with simple things—morning runs, reading comics, working part-time at a tiny convenience store. It was quiet and uneventful. And for once, he didn’t mind.

He also got a haircut. Started styling his hair a little, smiling more; and weirdly, people responded to that. He was kind of popular—not in the flashy, loud sense—but people greeted him in the street now, talked to him without looking over his shoulder and girls complimented his looks. One boy asked him for his number and called him cute, which sent Izuku into a minor mental crisis for three days.

As for Katsuki, he didn’t expect anything from him. Not an apology or some kind of acknowledgment. The last few months of school had already been… enough. A shift had occurred, and he was fine with letting it be how it was.

He didn’t think about him often.

…Okay, maybe sometimes.

Not that he missed him.
It was just… habit.

Meanwhile, Katsuki spent his summer exactly the way people expected him to: training, studying and practically living in his workout clothes.

He grew taller. His jawline started looking sharper, and girls in the neighborhood began whispering about him when he passed. He pretended not to care.

He did, a little.

But the weirdest thing was how often his mind wandered back to the damn nerd.

Not because he missed him or whatever, he just kept remembering that face. The stupidly calm way Deku had looked at him. Like he wasn’t scared. Like he wasn’t trying to be liked anymore. It threw him off balance in a way nothing else did.

He figured that’d go away with time.

He figured wrong.

The first day of UA High School was the kind of chaotic that made you question your life choices before 8:00 a.m.

Izuku adjusted his tie for the sixth time as he stood outside the school gates, staring up at the sleek modern building that looked more like a fancy tech company than a high school. A small crowd of new students gathered around him, buzzing with nerves and caffeine.

He exhaled slowly and walked in.

New school. New start. No familiar faces. He could do this.

The classroom was already half full when he arrived—clean rows of desks, giant windows, and that faint smell of freshly cleaned floors. He picked a seat by the window.

Izuku was halfway through organizing his pencil case when he heard the door slide open behind him.

Loud footsteps, a familiar scoff. And then-

“…Are you fucking kidding me?”

Izuku turned slowly.

Katsuki Bakugo stood in the doorway, bag slung over one shoulder, eyes wide like he’d just walked in on a crime scene.

There was a brief, stunned silence.

“…What are you doing here?” Katsuki asked, tone suspicious, like Izuku had orchestrated an elaborate infiltration plan to ruin his life.

Izuku blinked. “Attending school...?”

“Tch.”

Katsuki stomped to the far side of the room and dropped his bag like it had offended him personally. Two desks between them. Barely.

They didn’t speak again. Not during introductions or when more students walked in. Not even when the teacher walked in with a dead-eyed stare and a vibe that screamed “don’t talk to me.”

“Sit down,” the man ordered.

Everyone was already sitting.

“I’m Aizawa. I will be your homeroom teacher. I hate long speeches so listen up, if any of you are hoping high school’s gonna be ‘just like middle school but cooler’... drop out now. It’s less painful.”

Aizawa looked around the room like he was already tired of everyone. “You’ll be rotated through group assignments. There will be projects, essays, and things you’ll swear are unfair so deal with it. Any questions?”

A hand timidly rose.

“No? Perfect.” Aizawa said, without even waiting.

Izuku sat very still.

Katsuki looked vaguely impressed.

The weird part wasn’t that they ended up in the same class. The weird part was how neither of them knew the other had applied to UA.

Izuku hadn’t told anyone, afraid he wouldn’t get in. Katsuki didn’t bother mentioning it to anyone he didn’t care about, which was, well, everyone.

So now they were here. In the same uniform. In the same room.

Still avoiding eye contact like it was contagious.

And still… noticing things.

Izuku looked different. Katsuki hated how quickly he picked up on that.

And Katsuki—Izuku had to admit—also looked different. More composed, less unhinged. But still sharp-eyed and volatile.

They spent most of the first day pretending the other didn’t exist.

Except for the part where their desks were visible from each other's peripheral vision.

Except for the part where Katsuki corrected Aizawa during a math explanation and Izuku had to physically stop himself from rolling his eyes.

Except for the part where Izuku made a joke during lunch and Katsuki caught himself staring at the way his mouth curled at the end.

He looked away instantly. Then muttered “shut up” under his breath, even though no one was talking to him.

The final class of the day was a rules rundown.

“You’ll be assigned partners for projects on rotation,” Aizawa said. “Don’t request changes. I don’t care if you hate each other. Learn to cooperate or learn to fail together. Life works like that, too.”

Someone in the front laughed nervously.

Aizawa stared at them until the laughter died.

“Welcome to high school, class dismissed” he added before walking out of the classroom.

Izuku sighed.

Katsuki glared.

Somewhere in the back, a boy in blonde hair whispered, “They’re gonna kill each other.”

A girl in pink hair replied, “Or make out.”

That night, Izuku sat at his desk, staring at his new syllabus and wondering how did he ended up in the same universe as Katsuki again. Was it fate? Was it karma? Was it just bad luck with a sprinkle of comedic irony?

He sighed, dropped his pen, and flopped onto his bed face-first.

From his own room, Katsuki muttered to the ceiling, “I hate this.”

He wasn’t sure who he meant.

Maybe himself.

Maybe fate.

Maybe the stupid nerd who refused to disappear.

Either way, it was gonna be a long school year.

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.

Chapter Text

It had been almost a year since Katsuki graduated high school.

College wasn’t something he had thought much about until third year forced him to. At first, it felt like just another thing to win at; a higher level, a bigger challenge, the usual routine. But now, standing on campus with his hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets, it felt less like a race and more like… air. Too much of it.

He hadn’t seen Midoriya since graduation.

At first, it bothered him more than he liked to admit. That silence. That space. That noise.

They hadn’t said goodbye. Hadn’t promised to keep in touch. One day they were in each other’s faces, shoving, fighting, acting like gravity didn’t apply, and the next—gone.

For a while, Katsuki kept waiting to run into him. Maybe at a convenience store, maybe in passing on the street. But nothing. And eventually, it stopped feeling like something unfinished.

Or at least, that’s what he told himself.

College made things feel different. He wasn’t alone in it either; Kirishima, Mina, and Kaminari had all gotten in too, filling the same spaces they always had, now with bigger halls and shittier cafeteria food.

And somehow, through them, the group expanded.

Sero Hanta and Jirou Kyouka, now part of the usual circle. Sero with his laid-back grin and Jirou with her dry humor, sharp enough to keep Kaminari in check.

It worked.

Between classes and training and the occasional party, Katsuki kept himself busy enough not to think about the parts he wasn’t saying out loud.

Which is why, when they all crashed in the quad one afternoon after class, Katsuki felt mostly normal.

Until Kaminari opened his mouth.

“Man, remember back in third year?” Kaminari said, arms folded behind his head. “When we thought Bakugou was gonna kill Midoriya before finals?”

Katsuki’s jaw tensed before he could stop it.

Mina perked up immediately. “Oh my god, yeah. I still can’t believe you two got paired up for that last project. I was sure the school was gonna catch fire.”

Jirou raised an eyebrow from where she was scrolling on her phone. “Midoriya? That green-haired guy Bakugo used to talk about?”

“More like yell about,” Sero added lazily.

“Shut up,” Katsuki muttered, but it was too late.

Kirishima grinned wide, sharp teeth flashing. “Come on, bro. You seriously can’t tell me you don’t think about it sometimes. Midoriya, I mean-”

“Don’t,” Katsuki warned.

“Oh, he definitely does,” Mina teased. “Look at his face!”

Katsuki stood up without a word, hands shoved in his pockets, walking off across the quad before anyone else could pile on.

Kirishima called after him once, but didn’t push it. They knew him well enough by now.

Katsuki kept walking until the noise of their voices faded behind him, trading it for the low hum of traffic on the street past the campus gate.

He didn’t have a plan. He just needed space.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

Glancing down, he saw the name flash across the screen:

Nao.

He debated ignoring it. Then, with a sharp exhale through his nose, he tapped the message open.

“Wanna hang out tonight? My place is free.”

Nao wasn’t anyone serious. Just another girl from class. Friendly enough. Easy to get along with.

Katsuki stared at the screen for a second longer than necessary, thumb hovering.

And then he typed back:

“Yeah. Be there in thirty.”

His reflection caught faintly in a shop window as he passed; shoulders stiff, face neutral, the usual.

He didn’t know when it had started exactly. This thing where he’d fill his nights with whoever texted first. Girls whose names he didn’t always bother to remember, places he didn’t care about.

It wasn’t about needing company. It wasn’t even about liking it.

It was just easier.

Easier to feel something for an hour or two than nothing at all.
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Izuku hadn’t thought too hard about his options after graduation. For years, the plan had been simple: get good grades, apply overseas, build something away from the noise of the past.

Still, when the acceptance letter from a university in the States finally landed in his inbox, he almost didn’t believe it. His mom cried when he told her, happy tears mixed with the ache of knowing her son would be half a world away.

America turned out to be overwhelming at first. The campus was huge, the days longer than he was used to, and the food never quite tasted right. He missed small things; the sound of cicadas in the summer, the quiet comfort of his mother’s cooking. But at the same time, he didn’t miss the weight of always being compared, or the old tension that clung to certain memories. It was like breathing in a different kind of air.

He built a new rhythm quickly: morning runs around the track, hours buried in lectures and notes, late-night convenience store snacks when he didn’t have the energy to cook.

And he wasn’t alone.

Shoto Todoroki ended up in several of his core classes, and what began as the natural ease of sharing a language soon grew into something steadier. They studied side by side in the library, traded notes before exams, sometimes sat in silence for hours because neither felt the need to fill it. Shoto had a blunt kind of honesty that Izuku respected, and over time, that trust deepened. By the end of their first year, Izuku couldn’t imagine his life abroad without him.

They weren’t the type to talk endlessly about feelings, but there was comfort in their unspoken understanding. Izuku reminded Shoto to take breaks before exhaustion buried him; Shoto reminded Izuku that not every problem needed to be carried alone. It worked.

So when the exchange program opened—a semester back in Japan, paired with one of the country’s top universities—Shoto signed up without hesitation. Izuku hesitated for only a second before following his lead. It was a chance worth taking, and besides, he wouldn’t be going alone.

The return flight felt surreal. Two years ago, he’d been boarding a plane with shaky hands and a racing heart, not knowing what awaited him. Now, he leaned back in his seat next to Shoto, earbuds in, thinking about syllabi and credits instead of nerves.

Landing at Japan, the air felt heavier than he remembered. Familiar. The streets outside the airport smelled like soy sauce and grilled meat from the food stalls, the chatter around him a fast, casual Japanese he hadn’t realized he missed until now. For the first time in a while, it felt like home; just not in the same way it used to.

Their assigned university campus sat in a city a few hours from where Izuku grew up. It wasn’t exactly close, but it wasn’t impossibly far either. The dorms were newer, the hallways bright and lined with posters advertising clubs. Izuku dragged his suitcase into his new room and set it by the desk, exhaling slowly as he looked around.

A clean slate, once again.

That night, he and Shoto walked to a small ramen shop just off campus. It wasn’t fancy, but the broth was hot, the noodles soft, and for a moment Izuku felt something unclench in his chest. He laughed at one of Shoto’s offhand comments, the sound carrying easily over the low chatter of other students.

“Feels good to be back, doesn’t it?” Izuku said.

Shoto gave a small nod. “Yeah. It does.”

Izuku leaned back in his chair, chopsticks tapping against the bowl. "It feels like nothing can go wrong” he muttered with a laugh.
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Katsuki didn’t talk much on the way to Nao’s place. He never did.

She lived a few train stops away, in a quiet apartment complex where the vending machines outside buzzed louder than the traffic. She was waiting by the entrance, leaning casually against the railing with her hair tied up and a smirk that suggested she already knew how the night would go.

“Hey,” she greeted.

“Yo,” Katsuki replied simply.

Nao wasn’t pushy. She wasn’t clingy either. That was probably why he answered her messages more often than others. She didn’t ask about his grades or his future, didn’t dig into who he was outside of the couple of hours they spent together.

Inside, her apartment smelled faintly of citrus detergent, one of those artificial clean scents. She tossed her keys on the counter, kicked off her shoes, and shot him a look over her shoulder.

“You want something to drink?”

He shook his head. “I’m good.”

It went like that; easy, predictable. He sat on the couch, she sat closer, and before long, it was the same rhythm it always was. Familiar hands, familiar heat, the same way he let himself shut everything off except for the moment.

Nao laughed once against his mouth when he gripped her waist too tightly, but she didn’t complain. She never did.

Later, when it was quiet again and the air was heavy with the faint smell of her perfume, Katsuki lay back, one arm over his eyes, listening to her soft breathing beside him.

He didn’t stay long. He never did.

By the time he walked out into the night, the city felt colder, the air sharper. He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, heading back toward the train station, jaw tight like he was holding something in.

It worked, for a while. The rush. The distraction.

But as the train rocked gently and the neon blur of the city slid past outside the windows, the same thought pressed against the edges of his mind, stubborn and unwelcome.

Deku.

Not his face, not even his voice. Just the fact of him. That irritating constant, the shadow he couldn’t shake even when he tried.

Katsuki clenched his teeth and stared harder at the window’s reflection until his own scowl stared back at him, daring him to think about anything else.

He hated that it still worked like this. That the silence between them wasn’t silence at all, it was noise. Noise that crawled under his skin when he least wanted it.

Katsuki woke up with a scowl already set on his face. He hadn’t even opened his eyes properly when he felt the irritation clawing at his chest, the kind that had no single cause but built up from everything.

By the time he walked into the cafeteria, his tray clattered onto the table harder than necessary.

“Uh-oh,” Kaminari muttered, leaning sideways. “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

“Shut it,” Katsuki barked, stabbing at his food with more force than required.

Mina rested her chin on her palm, smirking. “You’re even louder than usual this morning. What’s wrong, did your alarm clock offend you?”

Kirishima chuckled. “Maybe he just didn’t get enough sleep. Or maybe,” he wiggled his eyebrows, “he got too much of it.”

Katsuki glared at him. “Don’t start with your shitty jokes.”

“Man, you’re grumpy,” Kaminari said, half-laughing, half-concerned. “Like, extra grumpy. I don’t think I’ve seen you this sour since-”

“Finish that sentence and you’re dead,” Katsuki cut in, jabbing his fork in Kaminari’s direction.

The group broke into laughter anyway, the kind that was light and familiar, bouncing off his irritation instead of softening it. Katsuki hunched his shoulders and shoved food in his mouth, deciding to ignore them. The more they teased, the less he wanted to talk.

Meanwhile, on the other side of campus, Izuku was walking into his lecture hall with a brightness that felt almost impossible to dim. His notebook was neatly stacked with fresh pens; his face practically glowed with excitement.

He slid into a seat near the front, adjusting his bag, when someone tapped his shoulder.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”

Izuku looked up to see a boy with neatly combed navy hair and glasses that gleamed under the fluorescent lights. His posture was stiff, his expression serious.

“Uh, no. Go ahead,” Izuku said, smiling.

“Thank you.” The boy sat down, arranging his things with military precision. “I’m Iida Tenya.”

“Midoriya Izuku,” he replied, shaking his hand.

Iida nodded firmly. “Excellent. It’s important to know your classmates. Cooperation and punctuality are key in higher education.”

Izuku blinked, then laughed lightly. “You sound like a teacher already.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Before Izuku could say more, a cheerful voice interrupted.

“Hi! Can I sit here too?” A girl with round eyes and a short brown bob leaned over, balancing her bag on her hip.

“Of course,” Izuku said quickly, scooting his things aside.

“Thanks! I’m Uraraka Ochako.” She plopped down, grinning warmly at both of them. “First class nerves, right? My stomach feels like it’s full of bees.”

Izuku chuckled, the tension easing from his shoulders. “Yeah. Definitely.”

And just like that, introductions slipped into easy chatter; simple, harmless, exactly the kind of thing Izuku had been hoping for. A normal start.

Normal didn’t last.

It happened later that afternoon, when Izuku was walking across campus with Uraraka and Iida, Shoto trailing quietly at his side. They had been discussing schedules, comparing notes, their conversation light. Izuku’s laughter rang clear enough that he didn’t notice the group approaching from the opposite direction until they were too close to ignore.

Katsuki.

Of course.

He was flanked by his friends, the familiar trio plus two new faces. Their voices were loud, their presence impossible to miss. Izuku froze mid-step, his smile faltering for just a fraction of a second before he forced it back into place.

Kirishima was the first to notice. His eyes widened, then lit up. “No way. Midoriya?”

Izuku rubbed at the back of his neck, offering a small wave. “Uh… hey guys, it's been a while...”

Mina gasped, grinning. “Whoa! You look… totally different. Seriously, did you grow like, two feet? And your hair—wow!”

Kaminari leaned forward, squinting as if Izuku were some rare animal. “Man, I almost didn’t recognize you. How the hell are you here?”

Izuku chuckled nervously, but his voice stayed even. “I’m in the exchange program. Just got in this semester.”

“That’s wild,” Kirishima said, still grinning. “Small world, huh?”

“Yeah,” Izuku admitted, smiling faintly. “Guess so.” He gestured to his side. “These are my friends. Iida, Uraraka, and Todoroki.”

The new introductions went smoothly, everyone polite enough, though the air was thick with unspoken tension. Katsuki hadn’t said a word. He stood a step back, arms crossed, eyes sharp but unreadable.

And then-

Shoto tilted his head, gaze flicking toward Katsuki. His voice was quiet at first, almost thoughtful. “Blond… red eyes… tall…”

Izuku felt his stomach drop.

Shoto’s eyes narrowed in recognition, and then he said it, clear and direct:

“Isn’t that the childhood friend you told me about? The one you don’t get along with? The one you used to talk about all the time?”

Silence detonated like a bomb.

Izuku’s entire body went stiff, heat rushing to his face. “Shoto—” he hissed under his breath, but it was too late.

Every pair of eyes was on him.

He stumbled over his words, hands gesturing wildly as if they might erase the moment. “I—I mean, it’s not like that, I just—well—sorry, we really have to get to class, right guys? Yeah, classes! Don’t wanna be late, ha, so, um, nice seeing you, okay, bye!”

The words spilled out in a rushed mess. Before anyone could respond, Izuku had already started moving, dragging Iida and Uraraka with him, Shoto following calmly as if nothing had happened.

And just like that, he was gone.

Katsuki’s friends turned to him almost immediately.

“Uh…” Mina broke the silence first. “Sooo, that was… something.”

Kaminari grinned awkwardly. “Yeah, what do you think, Bakubro?”

Katsuki shoved his hands deep into his pockets, expression flat. “Tch. Couldn't care less.”

But as he walked back toward the dorms later, his silence wasn’t empty.

It burned.

Where the hell had Deku been all this time?

Who the fuck was that guy who said it like Midoriya talked about him all the damn time?

Since when did Deku look so different?

Since when did he smile like that?

And why the fuck was he here now, in his university, walking around with new friends like the past never happened?

He grit his teeth, jaw tight, questions buzzing in his head louder than he could silence.

It didn’t matter.

Except it clearly did.

Chapter Text

“Okay,” Uraraka said as soon as they were out of earshot, voice tinged with curiosity. “What was that? Those people- your old ...classmates?”

Izuku adjusted his bag on his shoulder, staring at the floor for a moment. “Yeah. From middle school. And high school too, actually.”

Iida slowed his pace, expression thoughtful. “Midoriya… if I may ask, why did you seem so unsettled? It wasn’t only their behavior, it was your reaction as well. You looked tense.”

Izuku exhaled, a little sharper than he meant to, then forced his voice into something steadier. “Because it’s… complicated. Kacc- Bakugo and I grew up in the same neighborhood. For a while we were… friends, I guess. But then things changed, and not in a good way.”

Iida glanced at him, calm but direct. “Changed how?”

Izuku hesitated and gave a nervous look to Shoot, who glanced back at him with reassurance. Running a hand through his hair he spoke “He didn’t like the way I was always following him around. I thought it was admiration, but to him… it felt like competition, or maybe just annoyance. We ended up fighting a lot. And it never really stopped.”

Uraraka tilted her head. “So when you saw him again-”

“It brought back old habits,” Izuku finished for her, his tone firmer now. “I wasn’t expecting to see him here. I wasn’t prepared. That’s all.”

Iida nodded, his concern softening. “I see. Thank you for telling us. Still, if his presence continues to bother you, I hope you’ll rely on us as friends. You don’t need to carry it alone.”

That made Izuku smile faintly. “Thanks, Iida. Really. But it’s fine. I’ve moved on. We’re just… different people now.”

Shoto hummed quietly at that, not entirely convinced, but didn’t press further.

A few days slipped by without incident. Izuku settled back into the rhythm of lectures and assignments, almost convincing himself the run-in had been nothing more than bad luck. His new friends didn’t bring it up again, well, except for the occasional glance from Shoto that said "I haven’t forgotten", but he never voiced it.

Then, one afternoon between classes, it happened.

Izuku was walking down the main corridor with Uraraka and Iida at his side, Shoto trailing a step behind. The hallway buzzed with students, the noise of conversations bouncing off the tall windows. He was halfway through telling Uraraka about their next assignment when the sound of familiar laughter cut through the air.

He froze before he even saw them.

Katsuki’s group came into view from the opposite end: Kirishima’s wide grin, Mina’s bouncing steps, Kaminari gesturing wildly while Sero rolled his eyes and Jirou adjusted her headphones. And in the middle of them, scowling like the world existed solely to piss him off—Katsuki.

Their eyes met for a split second. Too fast to mean anything. Too sharp to mean nothing.

Izuku kept walking, chin high, pulse hammering a little too loudly in his ears. He didn’t slow down. Didn’t say a word.

Neither did Katsuki.

But the air between them seemed to thin out, like every step closer wound the coil tighter. When they finally passed, almost shoulder to shoulder with their respective groups, not a single word was exchanged. Just the faint scrape of shoes and the weight of something unspoken pressing down on both of them.

Once they’d turned the corner, Uraraka let out a low breath. “That was… uncomfortable.”

Izuku adjusted the strap of his bag, pretending his chest wasn’t still tight. “It’s fine,” he said. “Really. It’s fine.”

Katsuki had been in a foul mood all morning, and apparently, everyone noticed.

“Bro, you’ve been scowling since breakfast,” Kirishima said as they crossed the path, his grin unfazed. “Like, even more than usual.”

“I always scowl,” Katsuki muttered.

“Yeah, but this is like… extra,” Kaminari chimed in, hands stuffed in his hoodie pocket. “Like you’re ready to explode if someone breathes too loud.”

“I’ll explode if you don’t shut up,” Katsuki shot back.

Mina jogged a few steps ahead to face him, walking backward with her usual energy. “C’mon, what’s got you like this? Classes? Professors? Or…” she wiggled her eyebrows dramatically, “a certain someone we bumped into the other day?”

Katsuki’s glare could’ve burned a hole through her skull. “Drop it. Seriously.”

“See? That’s a yes,” Kaminari whispered loudly, earning a laugh from Mina and even a smirk from Jirou.

Katsuki clicked his tongue, looking away. The truth was, he didn’t even know why he felt so restless. It wasn’t like Deku had said anything. Hell, they hadn’t even spoken. But the image of him walking past, acting like nothing was wrong, like years of history could just be shrugged off- it pissed him off in ways he couldn’t explain with words.

“Alright, enough,” Kirishima said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “You need to blow off some steam. And I’ve got just the plan.”

Katsuki shot him a look. “If this is one of your dumb-”

“There’s a party tonight,” Kirishima cut in, grinning wider. “Big one. Off-campus. Music, food, drinks. You’ll come, hang with us, maybe even relax for once.”

“I don’t do parties.”

“You do when we drag you there,” Mina said cheerfully.

“And besides,” Kaminari added, “you look like you need it. Bad.”

Katsuki growled under his breath, but the truth was he didn’t have the energy to fight them on it. Not today. “Fine,” he muttered. “But if it sucks, I’m leaving.”

“Let's go!” Kirishima beamed, already texting someone.

They didn’t need to know he wasn’t actually thinking about the party. Or the music. Or the food.

He was still thinking about green hair and a face that wouldn’t leave his head no matter how hard he tried to shake it.

They were there, and the music was already echoing through the walls. It hadn’t been long since the party started and there were already people stumbling around, laughing too loudly with drinks in their hands, the usual kind of college chaos.

“Come on, don’t make that face. You know you need to relax. This will be fun.”

Hearing that didn’t exactly convince him, but there wasn’t much he could argue either. Maybe they were right. Maybe he did need to loosen up a little and, who knows, maybe chill for an hour or two. Decided, Izuku stepped forward into the party.

Chapter Text

Bakugo didn’t even know why he agreed to come. The house was loud, packed with people he didn’t care about, music pounding like it wanted to split his skull in half. His friends kept pulling him along anyway; Mina laughing, Kaminari already tipsy, Kirishima clapping him on the back like this was supposed to be fun.

He hated it. The noise, the crowd, the fake smiles. He stood in the corner, drink in hand, jaw tight.

“Relax, man, it’s a party!” Kaminari shouted over the music, grinning.

Bakugo downed the rest of his cup. “Maybe if I drink enough I’ll finally relax for once,” he muttered, grabbing another without waiting.

On the other side of the house, Izuku wasn’t doing much better. Shoto had already disappeared into the kitchen to find something to eat , Iida was trying to convince someone not to climb the furniture, and Uraraka had been pulled onto the dance floor.

That left Izuku standing alone, awkwardly holding a cup, pretending to be busy. The truth was, he wasn’t enjoying himself. He never really did at places like this. But the loneliness crept in faster than he liked, and when someone shoved a drink into his hand, he didn’t say no.

One cup became two. Two became three. His head buzzed warm and light, his judgment slipping faster than he wanted to admit.

That was when Kirishima spotted him.

“Hey, Midoriya?” He crouched down a little, smiling in concern. “You okay, man? You look… kinda gone.”

Izuku blinked at him, words slurring just slightly. “I’m fine. Just- came with friends. Lost them.”

“Right.” Kirishima frowned. “Why don’t you sit down for a while? I’ll try to find them for you.”

Izuku nodded weakly, letting himself be guided to a couch in the corner. “Thanks,” he mumbled, sinking into the cushions.

Kirishima gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Don’t move, okay? I’ll be back.”

Izuku promised he wouldn’t. But the second he was alone, his thoughts betrayed him.

His chest felt tight, the alcohol pulling everything out at once. The shock of seeing Katsuki again. The way his eyes had burned into him in that hallway. The silence. The weight of years pressed down all at once, and before he knew it, tears blurred his vision. He covered his face, willing them away, but they kept coming.

That was when someone else appeared.

A tall guy, broad-shouldered, dark clothes, glasses. He leaned down, voice smooth, too smooth.

“Hey. You don’t look so good there, freckles. Want me to help you, I don't know...feel better?”

Izuku looked up, dazed, half-laughing through his tears. “Yeah… sure. Why not.”

The man didn’t wait for a second answer. He grabbed Izuku’s wrist and pulled him up, too hard, dragging him down the hall. Izuku stumbled after him, not resisting, not really thinking. His back hit the wall with a thud, the stranger caging him in with a look that promised more than Izuku was ready for.

Suddenly, the alcohol haze didn’t feel like enough. His heart hammered with nerves, doubts creeping in. "Do I really want this?"

On the other side of the house, Bakugo leaned against the wall with another cup, watching people move around him like they weren’t real. He caught sight of Kirishima pushing through the crowd, looking around frantically.

“Oi, shitty hair,” Bakugo barked, smirking faintly. “What the hell’s got you running like your ass is on fire?”

Kirishima slowed, scratching the back of his neck. “Uh. I ran into Midoriya. He was… pretty drunk. I left him sitting down and was trying to find his friends to take him back to the dorm.”

Bakugo’s smirk vanished. The cup in his hand clattered onto the table as he shoved it aside without thinking. “Tch. Useless.”

He pushed past Kirishima before he could react.

“Wow… thanks for caring, I guess...?” Kirishima muttered, watching him go.

Bakugo moved fast, scanning the hall until he spotted green hair and froze.

Izuku was against the wall, some asshole towering over him, too close, too. fucking. close.

Bakugo’s vision blurred red. He didn’t think. He just acted.

He shoved the guy off with a rough punch to the shoulder, enough to make him stumble. The crowd stirred, whispers rising as eyes turned towards them.

“The fuck’s your problem?!” the stranger snapped, glaring at him. “Want to fight or something?!”

Bakugo snarled, every word laced with venom. “Get lost, bastard. The hell d’you think you’re doing with someone like Deku?”

The guy muttered curses under his breath but backed off, not really looking for a fight, even less with someone that looked like was ready to kill. The small circle of lookers dispersed just as quickly.

Izuku, however, didn’t look grateful. His eyes flashed, his words slurred but sharp. “ 'Someone like me?' What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Bakugo turned on him, incredulous. “I save your ass and this is the first thing I get? Not a "Thank you"? It was obvious that guy wasn’t planning anything good!”

Izuku shoved at his chest, voice rising. “And who asked you to save me in the first place?!”

The alcohol roared in Bakugo’s veins, his temper fraying past reason. He stepped in, grabbed Izuku by the front of his shirt, and slammed him back against the wall. Their faces were inches apart, breath hot and ragged.

“Sorry,” Bakugo spat, voice low, dangerous. “Forgot you’re all grown up now. So this is what you do, huh? Throw yourself at the first guy you see just to get off?”

Izuku’s eyes narrowed. He leaned up into his face, refusing to back down. “That’s *none* of your business.”

Bakugo’s grip tightened. The tension between them stretched thin, unbearable, about to snap. He leaned in closer, lips brushing dangerously near Izuku’s ear, voice a growl meant only for him.

“Watch me make it my business.”

Izuku's breath hitched, the words hanging heavy between them like smoke from an explosion. The party noise dulled to a distant hum in seconds. The wall, cool against his back, contrasting the fire radiating from Katsuki's body pressed so close.

His shirt twisted in Katsuki's fist. Pulling taut across his chest and Izuku could smell the sharp tang of sweat and beer on him; familiar, infuriating and intoxicating at the same time. Katsuki's red eyes bored into his, pupils blown wide from the booze and whatever storm raged inside. The proximity made Izuku's head spin worse than the alcohol, old memories flashing in seconds; his defiance cracked just a fraction, his green gaze flicking to Katsuki's mouth, parted and demanding.

He should push back, shove him away like always; but his hands betrayed him, fingers crawling into Katsuki's shirt instead of repelling. "You don't get to-" he started, but the protest died as Katsuki surged forward, crashing their lips together in a brutal kiss that stole the air from his lungs. It was all teeth and fury, Katsuki's mouth claiming his with punishing force. Tongue thrusting in deep to conquer every inch. Izuku gasped into it, the sound muffled as Katsuki swallowed it whole, sucking hard on his lower lip before biting down sharp enough to sting. Blood rushed south really fast, Izuku's cock steering in his pants despite the whirlwind of anger and want twisting in his chest. Katsuki's hand released his shirt only to grab him by the wrist and quickly drag him to a more private section of the house, Izuku could tell, even in his kind-of-drunk state of mind, that the blonde was just as desperate as he was.

For a second, thoughts of making a huge mistake rushed through his mind, like red alarms going wild; but before he could listen to any of them, Katsuki had managed to push through the mass of people and get them to a supply closet; as far as Izuku could tell, of course. He didn't get to question why would a house even have one because the next thing he knew, Katsuki pinned him down again and had his hands on the back of his neck, fingers digging into freckled skin to angle his head just right.

Deeper.

Harder.

No escape.

Izuku's body arched on instinct, pressing into the solid heat of Katsuki's frame, feeling the rigid bulge grinding against his hip. The friction sent jolts through him, his hips bucking once before he could stop it, Bakugo growled low in his throat, the vibration rumbling into Izuku's mouth as he licked along his tongue, possessive and unrelenting. One leg shoved between the smaller boy's thighs, knee pressing up to rub against his growing erection, drawing a choked moan that Katsuki devoured like victory.

Years of silence, of glares, avoidance and now with some alcohol in between, poured into the kiss; the resentment fueling the hunger, turning rivalry into something raw and electric. Katsuki broke for air only to attack Izuku's jawline, teeth scraping down to his throat where he latched on, sucking a dark mark into the pale skin. "Fucking. mine." the red-eyed rasped against the pulse fluttering wildy, hand sliding down to grip Izuku's ass, squeezing hard enough to bruise as he yanked him closer. Izuku fingers tangled in spiky blonde hair, tugging in a mix of protest and plea, but Katsuki just laughed slightly, breath hot on his collarbone before claiming his lips again, this time slower but no less dominant; tongue exploring with delivered strokes, tasting the alcohol on Izuku's breath, mapping every gasp and shiver. The tension coiled tighter, bodies locked in a dance of push and pull, the party forgotten in the blaze of discovered fire between them.

It didn't take long for Izuku to reach his climax, all the sensations were overwhelming, Katsuki's touch, breath, grinding; his mind was reeling from everything that was happening, but then it was too much, too fast.

Izuku stumbled out of the closet, breathing unevenly, his pulse still hammering in his ears. His shirt was a mess, his hair even worse. He didn’t dare look back.
The moment the cool hallway air hit him, it felt like his brain rebooted; like every single drop of alcohol in his system evaporated all at once and left nothing but sheer, burning mortification behind.

"Holy shit. What the hell did I just—"

He froze when someone called his name.

“Midoriya?”

Kirishima was standing a few steps away, eyes widening slightly. “Hey, dude, you okay? You kinda disappeared from where I left you. You look- uh...” He hesitated. “Better? Did you… run into Bakugou? He was looking for you”

Izuku’s face went up in flames. “N-no! I mean- I’m fine! Totally fine!” He stammered, clutching the hem of his shirt like a lifeline. “Just needed some air. Haven’t seen him, nope! Not at all!”

Kirishima blinked, clearly confused but deciding not to push. “Okaaay… if you say so, man.”

Before he could say anything else, Izuku walked quickly pas him and spotted Uraraka near the door. “Ocha! There you are! We- I mean- I should go! Now! Like, right now!”

She frowned. “What? Why? Are you okay?”

“Yeah! Totally! I’ll text you!” he blurted, practically speed-walking out before she could ask more. His ears were still burning, his thoughts a mess of "don’t think about it, don’t think about it, oh god you’re thinking about it."

He didn’t stop walking until he reached his dorm.

After walking out of the supply closet and inside the bathroom, Katsuki slammed his hands against the sink, head hanging low as cold water dripped from his hair. His reflection stared back; wild eyes, flushed face, the kind of expression that screamed *mistake*.

“What the fuck was that,” he muttered under his breath, jaw tight. “What the actual fuck did I just do.”

His pulse hadn’t slowed. His hands still shook. He ran them through his hair, groaning. “Shit, fuck Deku and his-” The name caught in his throat. “No. No, no, no. I’m not doing this. I’m not—”

A knock hit the door.

“Bro? You in there?” Kirishima’s voice.

Katsuki’s whole body tensed. “Yeah,” he answered, maybe too fast.

“Uh- okay, just checking. You... sound kinda pissed. Everything good?”

Katsuki swung the door open, expression dark. “Do I *look* good, dumbass?”

Kirishima raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, chill! Just, uh- saw Midoriya earlier. Dude looked pretty freaked out but said he's better and didn’t run into you.”

Katsuki scoffed, eyes narrowing. “That so? Yeah. Didn’t catch him either. Good for him, I guess”

“Right…” Kirishima said slowly, not buying it but too smart to push. “Well, we’re playing some party game soon, you coming?”

“Nah. I’m done. Going back to the dorm.”

“Okay, man. Get some rest, yeah?”

Katsuki didn’t answer, just walked off, shoulders tense.

Izuku sat on the edge of his bed, face buried in his hands. His mind wouldn’t stop replaying it. The heat. The closeness. The sound of Katsuki’s voice against his skin.

“Oh my god,” he whispered into his palms. “What the hell was that. What the *hell* was that.”

He flopped back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. “You’re such an idiot, Izuku. Why didn’t you stop him? Why didn’t you- ohmygod, I'm so fucked.”

He groaned and pulled a pillow over his face, wishing for a sweet instant evaporation.

Meanwhile, across campus, Katsuki was doing the exact same thing; lying on his bed, eyes wide open, trying to convince himself it didn’t happen.

“It didn’t mean anything,” he muttered to the ceiling. “Just drunk shit. That’s all. Just- fuck.”

Silence stretched. Then, a quiet, resigned groan.

“Yeah. I’m so fucked.”