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The old alarm clock above Katsuki’s bed read 12:08 A.M.
He blinked drowsily at it, trying to clear the blur from his tired eyes. A jolt of anger stirred inside of him. It was midnight.
He bit down on that rage as another small series of knocks cut into the silence. He knew who it was before he even sat up; only one person could be stupid enough to wake him up. Or, rather, there was only one person who knew they could wake him up without getting their ass kicked for it.
There had been a period of time, after the war ended and things had begun settling, when Izuku would come knocking on his door almost every night. On the ones he didn't, it was because Katsuki had beaten him to it and come to his dorm first.
Sleeping was difficult when they'd lived through all the things they had. It was made a little easier if they were close to the one person they trusted above all others.
It still happened on occasions that they would seek each other out, but enough time had passed by now that they could usually manage by themselves. Their visits dwindled over time to every other day, then once a week; now, it was only a few times each month. It was an unspoken rule the two of them had that if one of them came knocking, the other’s door was always open. Even if it was during the ungodly hours of the night.
This in mind, Katsuki lifted himself out of bed, grunting as his weary bones heaved in protest. He shuffled to the door and swung it open.
Izuku was wearing an All Might tee. It was yellow and faded, and it hung just slightly too big on him. He was surprisingly wide-eyed for someone awake at midnight, and his curly hair was disheveled and wild.
His hands fidgeted. He looked disturbed, and a little flushed.
Katsuki wasn't worried about it at all. And even if he was, he'd deny it until the day his heart gave out.
He glared half-heartedly at his visitor, leaning his weight against the doorway. “You woke me up, asshole.”
“I need to talk to you,” Izuku said grimly.
Katsuki stepped aside to let Izuku into the room, and he did so stiffly, eyes cast to his mismatched socks. He stood in the center of the floor and rocked on his heels uneasily.
“Nightmares?” The blonde yawned behind his hand. He shut the door and wandered back to his bed, throwing himself into the right side, pressed against the wall to leave room on the mattress.
“No, uh, not tonight,” Izuku said. He was speaking in a rush, tripping over his words. “I couldn't sleep.”
“Lay down, nerd.”
He looked like he really didn't want to.
One stern glance from Katsuki, and he shuffled on top of the blankets. He stayed seated at first, his knees curled up, and he stared straight ahead at the wall. Katsuki was not concerned about it.
“You're being weird,” he grumbled.
“Sorry.” Izuku’s eyes wandered to the door, and he sat up straighter as if it were tempting him. As if he was going to change his mind about whatever it was that had brought him here.
Like hell he was going to leave now, the asshole. Katsuki wouldn't allow it. He wasn't going to be woken up at goddamn midnight for absolutely nothing, and he certainly wasn't going to let Izuku walk out looking like that- he knew that if he did, he'd be up all night wondering about it.
He really hated how much he cared.
Clicking his tongue, Katsuki folded his arms pillowed beneath his head. He tried to keep his gaze on the ceiling and not Izuku's curled form. “You woke me up for this, so it better be good.”
“Mm,” Izuku said, rolling his lips together. “I don't know. It's important.”
“Stop being fuckin’ cryptic. It's creepy.”
Laughing breathlessly, Izuku flopped onto his back. He folded his hands over his stomach and stared up at the ceiling.
The problem with this was that Katsuki's bed was a twin, and it wasn't built to hold two teenage boys of their stature. The soft mattress dipped below their weight, and only a few miniscule inches of space stood between them. Katsuki could feel Izuku's warmth. It was some kind of Hell knowing that if either of them moved just a little to the left or right, they'd be pressed right against one another.
Katsuki’s mind raced, just a little. The silence Izuku left them drowning in did nothing to ward off any stray worries he couldn't kill. There could be plenty of reasons for Izuku to seek him out, and just as easily, there could be no reason at all.
Izuku didn't ask much of him- he didn't have to. Most things came unspoken between the two of them. They both knew that Katsuki would do anything just as well as they knew Izuku would, too. It didn't matter what Izuku had to say now; Katsuki was listening and ready. It didn't matter, because Katsuki was already his.
He could stand not to keep Katsuki in suspense, though.
Izuku's scarred fingers drummed over his stomach. Katsuki watched him out of the corner of his eye, then looked away. Neither of them spoke for a long stretch of time.
Awkwardly, Katsuki cleared his throat. “You gonna say something?”
At his side, Izuku took in a shuddering breath. “Yeah.” He nodded, more to himself. “Yeah, okay.”
He said it like he was coming to a decision, but still, he didn't talk. Katsuki rolled his eyes, sparks of irritation crackling in his chest. The silence was hanging too heavy, and the air was too thick between them.
Katsuki said, “‘Zuku, if you don't tell me what you want, I'm gonna kick you out.”
Izuku whimpered, “I think I love you.”
The silence suddenly felt much heavier. Katsuki’s chest felt tighter, which didn't bode well for his fucked-up heart.
The space between them felt so much smaller.
“Oh,” Katsuki said dumbly. Absently, he wondered when he'd started staring at the boy by his side. “Uh. You, uh. What?”
“Yeah,” Izuku said. His hands had covered his face at some point. His voice was weak, almost like someone had grabbed him by the throat as he broke into a melting ramble. “Only I don't really know, because I've never, y’know, loved anyone like that before. But, uh- I've been thinking about it,” he confessed earnestly, peeking at Katsuki between his fingers. “About you. And, um- y-yeah, I love you, and I think maybe I always have?”
Katsuki blinked. His eyes danced across all four corners of the room. He pushed himself up onto his forearms.
And he stared at Izuku. He was always staring at Izuku, because sometimes there was nothing else in the world that was worth looking at. And also, because really, what?
“Fucking what?” He snapped, harsher than he meant to. His eyes went so wide they stung, and his jaw was so tight he swore it could break.
Miserably, Izuku rolled onto his side, his sturdy back facing Katsuki. He cushioned his head on his arm and tapped his fingers against the mattress. “’m sorry,” he mumbled.
“Wh-” Katsuki's eyes narrowed now. “The fuck are you sorry for?”
Izuku's face pinched up, and he sighed miserably. His palm dragged all the way down his face, stretching out his malleable cheeks. “Because we're just friends. And I know that, and I still– you know.”
“What the hell?” The blonde snarled. Furiously, he lightly shoved the place between Izuku's shoulder blades. “Don’t be a fucking idiot.”
Izuku grumbled something unintelligible, then said, “Kacchan-”
“Turn around,” he demanded.
“No.”
“Fuckin’-” he grabbed the boy by his shoulder and tugged on it until he conceded and fell onto his back. The light from the alarm clock seemed too dim- he could make out Izuku's features, but not the color on his face.
Very clearly, though, he could see the regret in his eyes, the pained twist of his lips. He looked up at Katsuki like it hurt him to do so.
Something was aching in Katsuki's own chest, leaving him seething with rage. It was a hollow, hungry sort of pain, and he didn't know the first thing about chasing it away.
He jabbed a finger against Izuku's chest. “Were we just friends all those nights we stayed in each other’s dorms ‘cause we couldn't sleep? Or all those times I've made you breakfast, or you’ve let me lean on your stupid shoulder?” He jabbed him again, harder this time. “How about all the times I caught you checking me out in the locker room, shithead?”
Izuku practically shrieked. “You saw that?!”
Katsuki leaned over Izuku and closed a fist over his heart. Little flecks of saliva spewed from his gritted teeth. “What about when I died for you, Izuku? Were we just friends then?”
Izuku's breath audibly left his body. He stared, emerald eyes sparkling with some unnameable mixture of wonderment and fear. It was adoration as much as it was terror; hesitation as much as it was longing. His mouth bobbed open, then snapped closed. It did that a few more times.
Katsuki, for his part, tried his hardest to sneer, feeling his lips trembling. He was as shaky as his resolve to stay angry and upright, and he lost half the battle as he laid his head back onto his pillow, swearing under his breath. Izuku turned onto his side to gaze at him.
“You, uh… you feel the same,” he said. He was all soft, his voice light and airy.
Katsuki, meanwhile, struggled to stay sharp. It was always a losing battle against Izuku. He mumbled, “You're stupid for not knowing that sooner.”
Quietly, Izuku chuckled. Between them, his hand twitched, but he kept it in place. “Yeah. Maybe.”
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. They were motionless, frozen in time by the fear that any slip-up might shatter this little bubble of quiet that had formed around them. Katsuki still felt tense- maybe moreso, now that they were laying here aimlessly. There were a million more things to say, probably; apologies to hand out, forgivenesses to grant. Quite possibly, there were plenty of things to be done that didn't involve talking at all- sleeping, namely, because Izuku was stupid and thought 12 A.M. in Katsuki's dorm was the perfect time and place to confess his love.
Fuck it. If Izuku wasn't going to close the distance between them- if he was just going to lay there, gawking at Katsuki with those huge eyes as if trying to absorb everything in this moment- then Katsuki would be the one to do it. He folded his arm back to snatch up Izuku's right hand, and he held onto it tightly.
Izuku’s lips parted. He flipped his body once more onto its back but his eyes stayed glued in place, unwilling to budge away from Katsuki for even a moment. Their palms slid together, rough and strong. Their fingers locked neatly between each other.
Katsuki's nose scrunched. “Your hand’s sweaty,” he murmured.
“I'm nervous,” Izuku defended softly.
It wasn't the first time they'd taken each other's hands, but it felt a little like it was. Something annoyingly sweet and mushy was fluttering in Katsuki's gut, like he was some kid with a playground crush that had gotten amplified to an overwhelming degree. Izuku's hand felt strange and new in his, his skin foreign but comforting. He never wanted to let go, and that infuriated him, just a little.
It was the middle of the night, and Katsuki didn't like to be woken up. Izuku's hand was warm, and he was tired. There was so much to unpack between them, so he decided to put it off until the morning. Goddamn it, he was going back to sleep.
So Katsuki cut the bullshit. “Take me out on a date,” he demanded.
Obediently and eagerly, Izuku nodded. “I can do that.”
“Good.” He yawned again, waging a war against the heaviness of his eyelids. “You’d better fuckin’ make it romantic as shit, Izuku.”
A goofy grin made its way onto Izuku's freckled face. It stretched on slowly, so wide it threatened to split his features in half. “Y-yeah, okay. Yeah, that- that sounds really good.”
Katsuki grunted. He let his eyes fall closed. “‘Zuku.”
“Yes?” The boy said, a little dreamily. He waited patiently for his next orders, as if they were on a battlefield and not just holding hands on Katsuki's bed.
It made the corners of Katsuki's mouth twitch upwards, though he'd never admit it. His final command was softer around the edges, more fond than he cared to linger on. “Go to sleep, nerd.”
“Oh,” Izuku yelped like he'd forgotten all about the very concept. “Um, o-okay. Okay.” He breathed in and out slowly as if relieved. “Goodnight, Kacchan.”
With the last bit of his energy, Katsuki squeezed his hand. “‘Night, Izuku.”
They went quiet, settled in for a night spent side-by-side. It wasn't the first, but it might as well have been. It felt different. Warmer, almost.
If neither of them actually managed to fall asleep for a long while, that had nothing to do with the racing of their hearts. If Katsuki shifted closer to Izuku, inch by inch, until their shoulders were pushed up against each other, that was by complete accident.
If Katsuki waited with his eyes faux-closed until he heard the steady breaths of Izuku's slumber, just so he could open his eyes and look at him for a while, watch the way his chest rose and fell, the way his long eyelashes fluttered over his cheeks and how his lips parted- well. Then maybe that was just because he was a little bit in love.