Work Text:
Katsuki woke with a jolt from a loud, relentless knocking at his door. He sat up abruptly, the knocking growing louder and more frantic. The alarm clock on his bedside table glowed dimly:
11:45 pm.
Anger surged through him.
Whoever was on the other side was about to regret waking him up at this ungodly hour.
He grumbled a string of curses, struggling out of bed with the uncomfortable pull of his healing stitches. He quickly pulled on a pair of sweatpants over his shorts and stormed to the door.
When he yanked it open, he found Tokoyami standing there. The sight was so unexpected that Katsuki momentarily forgot his anger.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Katsuki demanded, trying to mask the concern creeping into his voice.
Tokoyami looked more flustered than Katsuki had ever seen him.
“It’s Midoriya,” Tokoyami said quickly, his gaze fixed on the floor. “Please, just come with me.”
Katsuki’s stomach bottomed out, and without another word, he shoved past Tokoyami and sprinted down the stairs. Dread crashed over him with each step.
He heard Tokoyami shout urgently from behind, “Bakugou, are you sure you should be running like that?!” But Katsuki didn’t give a shit.
The war had left scars on everyone.
Katsuki’s recovery had been very slow, and he often wondered if he even deserved the second chance he’d been given. He had never needed or wanted anyone to save him. Yet, Edgeshot gave up almost his entire being to keep him alive.
He still didn’t really know how to process that.
Izuku’s transformation was the most heart-wrenching. Katsuki had noticed the subtle changes. Dark circles under his eyes, the loose-fitting clothes, the lack of his usually incessant muttering.
More unsettling was how seemed to avoid him. Whenever their paths crossed, Izuku’s gaze would either dart away entirely or settle on Katsuki with something akin to disgust. He couldn’t decipher it. It felt like Izuku was keeping him at arm's length.
He wondered if maybe, after the adrenaline of war had died down, Izuku had finally taken a moment to see Katsuki for who he truly was.
Someone who would never be good for him. In every possible way. They brought out the absolute worst in each other. They drove each other crazy.
…They couldn’t live without one another.
But maybe the idiot had finally learned some self-preservation skills.
As he descended the stairs, an indecipherable scream shattered the quiet. He prepared to throw himself into a full sprint.
“Wait!” Tokoyami’s hand gripped his shoulder, stopping him momentarily.
“What?” Katsuki snapped. He refused to turn around.
“Just—“ Tokoyami said. “I think it’s a nightmare. He’s been screaming for you in particular.”
Before Tokoyami could say anything more, another piercing scream echoed through the hallway, sending Katsuki racing forward, fear propelling him into a sprint. The scream mirrored when Izuku had screamed for him as he flew toward the ground after taking the hit for him.
The memory made his blood run cold.
He knew Izuku had nightmares. He was sure they all did. With the level of trauma they endured it would’ve been impossible not to be scarred like that.
But actually hearing Izuku call his name in such a heart-wrenching way was indescribable. He barreled towards Izuku’s room. He hesitated only for a moment in front of the door, then twisted the knob slowly, his heart pounding so loudly it was almost deafening.
As soon as he heard Izuku’s voice start to scream again, Katsuki threw open the door and charged inside, slamming it shut behind him.
Izuku was sprawled on top of his sheets, his body shaking uncontrollably. He was wearing a colorful matching All Might pajama set. It was so stupid but it was so Izuku. The sight made his chest hurt.
The blue comforter lay discarded on the ground and his body was surrounded by an aura of green electricity. He clung to the white fabric of his sheets, his face twisted into a painful grimace.
Katsuki’s moved quickly to the bedside, his hands hovering uncertainly. He didn’t know how to fucking do this. Comforting someone was not something that came naturally to him.
And yet.
“Izuku,” Katsuki gasped, reaching out to grab his shoulder.
Just as his fingers brushed the fabric of Izuku's pajama sleeve, Izuku thrashed violently, a raw scream tearing from his throat. His legs kicked and his face twisted in sheer terror.
His hand flailed out, and he cried out, “Ka—” but the sound was swallowed by another wave of panic as he began to jerk against the bed.
His arms and head were slamming against the headboard repeatedly with enough force to make Katsuki wince.
“Stop!” Katsuki shouted, his voice sharp and desperate. He lunged forward, slamming his hands onto Izuku’s shoulders, pinning him down.
“Damn it, stop! Wake up!” His voice cracked, pathetically.
Izuku's movements were erratic, driven by a terror that Katsuki couldn’t fully comprehend. There was no telling what was going on inside his head.
Katsuki knew this feeling well; more often than not, he woke up sweating. Watching Izuku get yanked away, not knowing if he’d ever fucking see him again. The crazed look on Shigaraki's face while he killed him. The sensation of death. His classmates bleeding out on the battlefield. The stupid goddamn war footage that played on every news channel for weeks.
He kept his grip on Izuku tight, hovering over him, pinning him to the bed. He attempted to free himself, and Katsuki knew he still could probably launch him through the ceiling easily if he wanted.
Yet he couldn’t bring himself to let go.
“‘Zuku,” he said as calmly as he could muster.
He went to thrash and Katsuki held down tighter, keeping his arms pinned above his head. The pain in his injured arm flared, but he continued to ignore it.
“Izuku,” he said again, drawing out every syllable.
There were tears actively streaming down his cheeks. However, the fight seemed to be leaving him. His body slowly began to relax under Katsuki’s grip.
“C’mon, Wake up,” Katsuki pleaded helplessly, desperate to break through to him.
Katsuki kept his grip firm but gentle, trying to prevent Izuku from thrashing again. Their faces were close, and Katsuki could see the raw confusion in Izuku’s wide, tear-filled eyes as they began to open. Izuku looked up at him, his gaze searching desperately.
He couldn't find any words.
Izuku continued to analyze his face. It as if he needed to verify Katsuki’s existence. His breaths were quick and shallow, each one taking a significant effort.
Finally, Izuku managed to rasp, “…Kacchan?”
Katsuki leaned in, his heart racing. “It’s me,” he said softly, forcing himself to keep his tone calm.
“You gotta fucking calm down, okay?” He added. He too was struggling to catch his breath, high on adrenaline.
Izuku’s continued to look up at him. His brow was deeply furrowed, and his green eyes were glistening with tears.
“You’re safe. I’m here.” Katsuki pitifully assured. The words felt foreign on his tongue.
Izuku gave a weak nod, watery eyes glancing up where Katsuki had them pinned over his head. Confusion flashed across his expression.
“You were going to hurt yourself,” Katsuki explained, avoiding eye contact.
Taking a shaky deep breath, Katsuki finally began to relax his hold. He returned his gaze to Izuku again as he did. Izuku processed the words for moment, then nodded with understanding.
“S-sorry,” he whispered.
He didn't need to fucking apologize.
But Katsuki couldnt get himself to force the words out, so he said nothing. Before he completely stood up, he slipped a hand behind Izuku's head to make sure he hadn’t split the damn thing open. He pressed his palm to the back of it, threading his fingers through the hair to touch his scalp.
He had surgery on his head barely a month ago, so the way Izuku had slammed his head against that headboard scared the shit out of him.
“That hurt?” He asked gently, voice barely above a whisper. Izuku shook his head and he drew his hand back, which was luckily devoid of blood.
He stood up straight. He kept his eyes locked onto Izuku’s as he stood. The sounds of his ragged breathing filled the room as he attempted to catch his breath.
“K-Kacchan, wha-why are you…” Izuku’s voice trailed off, his eyes falling to Katsuki's chest. His gaze lingered there for a few silent moments.
Katsuki glanced down and realized his loose tank top was exposing part of his scar. Then, a rush of awareness hit him. this was likely the first time Izuku had seen it uncovered.
His gaze warily flickered back up to Izuku.
At that moment, the sight seemed to shatter Izuku’s already fragile composure. Katsuki watched as sorrow filled his eyes. Izuku shut his eyes tightly, a shuddering whimper escaping his lips.
Instead of flailing wildly, trying to fight against the darkness, Izuku did something even more heartbreaking. He turned onto his side, curling into himself, and let out a gasping sob that pierced Katsuki’s chest clean through.
It was like seeing the scar had physically stabbed Izuku in the gut while he was already down. He held his hands to his throat.
Katsuki hurriedly sat on the edge of the bed, angling his body toward Izuku, his feet dangling off the side. With a careful, tentative movement, he lifted his hand to Izuku’s hair, gently brushing the sweaty bangs from his forehead.
“Shh,” he whispered, his voice low and soothing.
Izuku struggled to catch his breath, sobs barely audible. Katsuki stayed close, letting Izuku cry, trying to offer whatever comfort he could.
“Always the same dream,” he choked out. His gaze shifted back to the scar on Katsuki’s chest.
“About…” he asked hestitantly, gesturing to the scar on his chest, his voice trailing off. He couldn’t bring himself to say the words.
Izuku nodded, tears spilling down his cheeks.
He had already knew deep down it was about that. Izuku had been crying out his name. But that didn’t make it hurt any less. He hated he was the reason he was fucking suffering like this.
He was still brushing the sweaty bangs out of Izuku’s face. “I’m fine,” he reassured softly. “Gotta stop thinking ’bout it.”
But if he were in Izuku’s shoes, he would be suffering too. Katsuki had dreams about Izuku dying almost every night, yet it never actually happened. But Izuku had seen Katsuki dead.
The thought of witnessing Izuku’s fucking corpse was unbearable; he would never recover from that pain.
Instinctively, he let his thumb drop below Izuku’s eyes, wiping away the tears that were still actively falling. He went to speak again but Izuku beat him to it.
“I-I never get there in time,” Izuku choked out, biting back a sob. He then cried harder, now pulling his arms tightly crossed against his chest.
“It was just a dream.” His voice was uncharacteristically shaky as he attempted to reassure him. He moved his hand to rest on Izuku’s right shoulder.
“It was real,” Izuku gasped, his eyes shimmering. “W-we both know it was real. It’s all my fault. If I hadn’t… I can’t… I’ll never forgive myself—” Izuku started to breathe rapidly, tucking his chin to his chest, arms wrapping around himself tightly.
“Stop,” Katsuki snapped. “It ain’t your fucking fault.”
Izuku’s watery gaze met his, full of anguish. Katsuki could practically see the turmoil fucking churning within him.
As much as he wanted to deny it, he understood Izuku’s perspective.
He could easily imagine the crushing guilt of being unable to protect him, of returning only to find Izuku lifeless on the battlefield. If Katsuki had faced that reality, he knew he wouldn’t have handled it with the same heroic composure.
Katsuki was selfless when he needed to be but he always found when it came to Izuku he was very, very selfish.
Izuku suddenly sat up. He leaned against the headboard, drawing his knees to his chest. He quietly studied Katsuki’s face, his gaze lingering on the jagged scar.
“Everytime I see…” He gestured toward Katsuki’s face and chest. “I’m reminded that I failed you.” The words were barely audible, and he quickly turned away.
Katsuki felt anger welling up inside him.
“You didn’t fail me,” He surged forward, gently gripping Izuku’s chin and turning his face back toward him. “I’m fucking alive. ”
“But you died, Kacchan!” Izuku’s voice rose, raw with emotion.
Katsuki jolted back in surprise.
“You died. I had to fight in front of your corpse!”
Katsuki opened his mouth to argue, but the words stuck in his throat.
“Every time I close my eyes, it’s all I see. Y-you…lying there. So much blood. The c-card…” Izuku’s voice cracked, his breath hitching as he tried to steady himself, but the words fell apart.
Katsuki’s chest tightened, a sick, twisting sensation coiling in his stomach.
Izuku had seen the fucking All Might card. Izuku had absolutely no idea that Katsuki had even kept the card. He was sure the sight had probably destroyed him.
He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. It was as if the words were pinning him in place. Izuku’s pain was crawling under his skin, turning his bones heavy.
Izuku’s breath hitched as he attempted to compose himself. “He called you my present.” A choked laugh escaped him, bitter and broken.
Katsuki’s heart sank further.
Izuku shook his head, then met his gaze again.
“He killed you. Kacchan, he killed you because he knew how much I… how much I-I…” Then his voice completely shattered and he buried his head in his knees, his body shaking with sobs.
Katsuki sat frozen, his mind racing as he tried to process Izuku’s words. A tidal wave of emotion crashed over him, the instinct to protect and comfort overwhelming.
Before he could second-guess himself, he climbed fully onto the bed, propping a pillow behind him to get comfortable. He glanced at Izuku, still buried in his knees, sobbing uncontrollably.
“C’mere” he mumbled, wrapping an arm around Izuku's back and one hovering near his knees in an offering.
Izuku looked confused for a split second, but then obliged.
Katsuki wrapped his arms around him, and he rested his head against his chest. It was dead silent now, besides only the sound of Izuku's muffled sobs.
“Shh,” Katsuki murmured again, the word slipping out almost without thinking.
He shifted, hesitating for only a second, before his hand moved to Izuku’s back. He rubbed small, slow circles, the movement clumsy but gentle.
There was something about the way Izuku's body trembled that tugged at his heart.
Without thinking, he heated his palm slightly, hoping the warmth might ease some of the shivering. Izuku’s body stilled for a brief moment, a shuddering breath escaping him as he leaned slightly into Katsuki’s touch.
He stayed there for god knows how long, rubbing circles across Izuku’s back. He looked down, and Izuku still had his ear pressed firmly to Katsuki’s chest.
God.
“You hear that?” Katsuki asked. He glanced down again trying to ignore the heat rising in his cheeks. “Still beatin’.”
Izuku nodded weakly and sniffled, snuggling deeper against him. In that moment, he felt a sudden awareness that he had crossed an unspoken line, and now there was no turning back.
He couldn’t bring himself to care.
Minutes passed as Izuku let the sound soothe him.
He was no longer sobbing, his breathing becoming steadier. He began to wonder if Izuku had fallen asleep, but then his soft voice broke the stillness again.
“Can I see it?”
His request was barely audible, and Katsuki blinked in surprise.
Huh?
The question caught him off fucking guard.
Katsuki cleared his throat, feeling awkward. “Uh—”
Though he wasn’t self-conscious, the thought of taking off his shirt in Izuku’s bed made his heart pound. They’d changed in front of each other countless times, but this felt entirely different. Way too intimate. He also didn’t know how he would react, and the last thing he wanted was to make shit worse.
Izuku must’ve noticed his hesitation. Taking a deep breath, he sat up, creating distance between them. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked—” He shifted away, trying to retreat.
“If you really want to, you can,” Katsuki interrupted, flatly. “I don’t fucking care.”
Izuku looked back at him, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. He nodded hesitantly.
Katsuki sighed, pulling off his tank top with some difficulty, wincing as his injured arm protested. He placed the shirt in his lap and turned to face Izuku, who was definitely blushing. He pretended not to notice.
“There,” he muttered, gesturing to the scar on his chest, avoiding eye contact as he focused on the All Might poster on the wall.
Silence fell between them again. But after a moment, he couldn’t help himself. He looked back at Izuku’s face.
He was sitting cross-legged on the bed in front of him. His eyes were wide, shimmering with unshed tears. There was still a faint blush on his cheeks, but his expression was heavy with sadness.
Katsuki felt an unfamiliar rush of vulnerability wash over him. He swallowed hard over the lump in his throat.
“Kacchan…” Izuku whispered, his voice trembling. He leaned closer, eyes flickering between the scar and Katsuki’s face.
His mouth was dry. He didn’t have any words. So he looked back to the same All Might poster.
He suddenly felt a light brush of fingers on his chest, to the right of the scar. His eyes widened in surprise, eyes briefly meeting Izuku’s. He continued to touch along the scar, fingers delicate and gentle, seemingly in awe. A tear spilled out from the corner of his eye.
He knew he should probably stop him.
But he didn’t want him to stop.
That was the scary part.
Izuku’s hand delicately moved over to the scar gracing his shoulder. His eyes moved to the one by his hip, but didn’t dare to move his hand there. Katsuki was silently grateful, because he was sure how gracefully he would handle that.
He watched silently as another wave of pain crossed Izuku’s face. He was getting worked up again.
“Why?” Izuku’s words pulled him from his thoughts.
The fuck?
“Hah?”
“W-why would you push me out the way like that?” Izuku’s voice trembled.
Katsuki swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in his throat. “Don’t ask stupid questions.”
“It could’ve killed you,” Izuku replied. His gaze was intense, searching Katsuki’s eyes for a hint of understanding.
It would’ve killed you.
The memory flashed in Katsuki’s mind. Watching Izuku from the ground helplessly, arms broken and flailing. The look on Izuku’s face as he realizes going to be stabbed. The realization he never fucking apologized. The years of memories flooded his brain as he faced the possibility of watching Izuku die. The conscious choice he would make to die for Izuku.
The moment he pushed him out of the way without a second thought, choosing death over a world without him.
The violent scream of his name ripped from Izuku’s throat as he plummeted toward the ground. The darkness closing in. The gasp for air on the ground, the faint call of his name. Izuku, to his right, covered in his blood —
“Not talking about this,” Katsuki stated firmly. It had been several months and an entire other war since that day. Why did Izuku feel the need to bring this up now?
“We’ve never talked about it.”
“Good. Let’s keep it that way.”
Izuku drew his back from Katsuki’s chest and placed it in his lap, immediately starting to fidget. Katsuki knew he was being an asshole, but he couldn’t go there right now. His resolve was hanging by a thread, and the last thing he wanted was to unravel in front of Izuku.
“Sorry, Kacchan,” Izuku murmured, his eyes downcast, avoiding Katsuki’s gaze.
An awkward silence stretched between them, thick and uncomfortable.
He could blame his next action on the painkillers, the lack of sleep, or the emotional exhaustion that weighed on him, but deep down, he knew that wasn’t true. Izuku had leaped, crossing that boundary that Katsuki had carefully guarded. There was a pull within him, a desperate need to confront the reality of what had happened.
He wanted to, needed to, truly see the damage inflicted on Izuku.
Without thinking, Katsuki slowly brought his left hand up, gently cupping the scarred side of Izuku’s face. The freckles that had once adorned that cheek were now hidden beneath a layer of scar tissue.
Izuku flinched at the sudden contact, and the sight made Katsuki’s heart twist with an almost unbearable ache. For a fleeting moment, their eyes met. He turned his attention to the left side of Izuku’s head.
His hair was still growing back from where the surgeons had shaved it; it was no longer a buzz cut, but still uneven compared to the rest. A jagged scar cut into his hairline, and beneath his eye, a scar stretched down the length of his face. Katsuki stared at the scars for a long time, taking in every detail.
“Does it hurt?” he asked quietly. His hand remained gently cupping Izuku’s face.
Izuku looked into his eyes for a moment, then averted his gaze. “Not really,” he whispered.
“Don’t fucking lie to me,” Katsuki shot back instantly.
“Really, not anymore,” Izuku replied, shaking his head slightly. He gave a small smile.
He went to the scar on Izuku’s forehead. His fingers graced the skin on the outside of it as delicate as he knew how. He made brief eye contact with Izuku, silently asking for permission, and after a heartbeat, Izuku gave a small nod.
Katsuki gently pushed back the green and black hair, examining the surgeon's handiwork. He focused on the scar cutting into his hairline, then moved his hand under his chin, tipping it upward to get a better angle on the scar on his cheek.
“Fuckin’ bastard,” he muttered gruffly, his eyes fixed on the scar.
The tissue had erased the freckles from one side of Izuku’s face.
Katsuki let out a deep sigh, his frustration boiling over. “He took away half your damn freckles.” He dropped his hand from Izuku’s face, fists clenching at his sides.
Anger coursed through him, hot and electric, threatening to explode.
Izuku looked at him, surprised. Katsuki couldn’t tear his eyes away from the scar.
“Yeah,” Izuku said, bringing his hand up to cover his cheek as if trying to obscure Katsuki’s view of it. “I mean, technically not half…”
“Your arms? They hurt?” he forced out, cutting Izuku off mid-sentence.
He suddenly felt like he had tunnel vision.
Katsuki's gaze flicked over the swirling scars on Izuku’s skin, a knot tightening in his stomach. He clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white, struggling to keep himself from exploding.
Izuku was clearly weighing his words.
Just tell me the damn truth. Katsuki thought.
“They’re fine.” His voice wavered at the end, and he forced a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thanks to Eri’s help. Without her I-I’d-“ Izuku couldn’t finish his sentence, looking at Katsuki nervously.
He’d probably be dead.
The unsaid words hung in the air.
Izuku would’ve fucking bled out.
He had lost his fucking arms on live TV.
His mother had watched her son endure that horror. He had lived through the pain of losing his arms, fully conscious. Katsuki had replayed the footage countless times. He should have never watched it, but maybe he deserved to suffer. The guilt clawed at him, a constant reminder of his failure.
The image of Izuku crawling helplessly on the ground, blood spraying from the mangled stumps, played in his mind before he could help it.
His chest heaved, heart thudding dangerously. He tore his gaze from Izuku’s, dragging a hand over his face and through his hair. He looked at Izuku's arms again.
All he could see were two mangled stumps. They dripped blood and flesh. His skin pale, his eyes hollow. The metallic smell filling his nose.
Blood.
There was blood fucking everywhere.
He tried to shake away the images.
Izuku once told him he was his image of victory, yet when it mattered most, he couldn’t protect him. Katsuki felt weak. Too damn weak. That is why he was killed. That was why Jeanist had to watch him die. That’s why Izuku arrived to his fucking corpse. That was why Edgeshot had to sacrifice so much to save him.
He couldn’t stop.
Everything was spiraling out of control. Months of pent-up emotion crashing down on him all at once.
He met Izuku’s gaze for a moment. Izuku looked back at him with intense confusion, and…maybe sadness? fear?
He could see his mouth moving, but the words were lost on him.
He turned away, pushing his legs halfway off the bed to let them dangle. He buried his face in his hands, willing himself to calm down. Warmth flowed down his cheeks. He felt silent trails tracing down his face. Suddenly, he felt a heat pressed to both sides of his face, forcing his head upward.
“—cchan,” a faint voice broke through the haze. It felt like he was underwater, struggling to resurface.
“Ka—” it came again, a little louder this time. A pressure against his forehead grounded him.
“Kaccha—” louder now. He grabbed at his chest.
A hand slipped beneath the one he placed over his heart.
“Please.” came that all-too-familiar, trembling voice.
With immense effort, he forced his eyes open, feeling like they weighed a million pounds. They locked onto a sea of green. Izuku’s forehead was pressed against his own, eyes glistening and staring straight into his damn soul.
“You need to breathe,” Izuku pleaded. He cradled Katsuki’s cheek with one hand, the other resting over his heart. Tears streamed from those fear-filled eyes.
“We’re okay. We’re safe,” Izuku’s words were jumbled.
We’re not okay, nothing is okay.
Shigaraki is going to kill you and I can’t do anything about it.
He looked at Izuku’s face, the scar on the his cheek. Where flesh had been ripped off.
Suddenly he snapped his eyes shut again, shaking his head slightly. He could feel himself shaking violently, like he had been dumped in a bucket of ice water.
Stop. Stop. Stop.
You have to get a goddamn grip.
Blood. So much fucking blood, blood all over him, blood spraying, smearing on the ground.
Am I dead?
Where is Izuku?
My whole body hurts.
Is Jeanist okay?
Blood, mangled stumps, blood in his mouth.
Why can’t I see?
“Katsuki, please breathe.”
Izuku’s voice was breaking now, pleading. He didn't know the last time he had heard Izuku use his first name like that. He hadn't even been sure the nerd even could pronounce it.
Something about the way he said it spurred something in him.
“I’m so fucking sorry,” he managed to choke out, his voice cracking. The words struggled to escape as anger flooded his entire body.
He needed to get a grip.
He had to get a grip.
“Stop,” Izuku soothed. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.” He kept swiping his thumb over Katsuki’s cheek, a soothing motion.
Katsuki took a moment to lose himself in Izuku’s eyes, willing himself to calm down.
His breath still came in shaky gasps. Izuku still kept one hand over Katsuki’s heart while the other cradled his face.
Katsuki pathetically attempted to ground himself, focusing on Izuku’s eyes as his anchor.
Time passed, and after minutes of whispered reassurances and heavy breathing, he began to calm down.
Seeming satisfied with Katsuki’s slowing heart rate, Izuku drew his hand back from his chest, though he still held his face gently.
But as clarity returned, it all became too much. Katsuki stood up abruptly, causing Izuku to jump back, startled.
He walked to the center of the room, the space between them suddenly feeling vast.
Now standing in front of Izuku, he saw the painfully confused expression on his face.
“I’ll go,” he spoke, avoiding Izuku’s gaze.
He really couldn’t do this right now. Not after embarrassing himself like that.
“It’s okay.”
“Don’t you fucking pity me,” he snarled.
Deflect, deflect, deflect.
He turned to leave, his hands still shaking violently as he reached for the doorknob. But Izuku, ever attentive, took notice. He snatched Katsuki’s hand, holding it firmly in his grip. Katsuki didn’t resist; instead, he turned to face him again.
Izuku stood before him, face streaked with tears, his half-shaved head and fresh scars, looking so small in those goddamn All Might pajamas.
The sight made Katsuki’s heart swell with…
Oh god.
He loved him.
He loved him.
He was fucking in love with him.
The realization hit him like a physical blow, making his head spin. His mouth went dry. He pushed the thought away as quick as it came, scrambling to keep his composure. He’d handle that later.
“Please don’t leave,” Izuku said, his voice wary and fragile. “I just want to make sure you…” He gestured to Katsuki’s chest, struggling to find the words.
“I’m fine,” he lied. It wasn’t entirely untrue; he was calming down now, his heart no longer hammering dangerously in his chest.
Izuku looked skeptical. Katsuki’s eyes fell on the dark bags beneath Izuku's eyes, and he quickly averted his gaze. He hesitated momentarily.
“I’ll stay until you fall asleep,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically shaky. “If that’s what you really want.”
Katsuki caught Izuku nod in his peripheral vision, so he moved to grab the desk chair. Izuku stood frozen for a moment, prompting Katsuki to pat the bed, gesturing for him to lie down.
“Kacchan, are you sure you’re…?”
“Just lay down, Izuku.”
Izuku lay back on the bed, first grabbing his comforter from the floor. A long silence followed, and Katsuki shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
He didn’t want to be a creep by just staring at him, so he fiddled with his hands instead.
This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. He wasn’t meant to make things worse for Izuku; he had come in here to comfort him, not the other way around.
He had lost control entirely.
Touching those scars, the memories it conjured up, had been too much for him. Katsuki knew what he had endured, and he cursed himself every damn day for not protecting him better.
He had failed him in so many ways, and he planned to make up for that for the rest of his life.
He had decided long ago that Izuku was his to protect. He didn’t care how possessive that sounded; it was the truth. From the moment he threw himself in front of Shigaraki and got stabbed for Izuku, he knew he’d do it again in a heartbeat if he was spared.
He took a deep breath before speaking.
“I’d do it again,” he said firmly, breaking the silence.
Izuku peeked out from under his blue comforter, his eyes wide with surprise at the sudden declaration.
“Do what?” he asked softly, his brow furrowing in intense confusion.
He gestured vaguely to the starburst scar on his shoulder. “No hesitation.”
Izuku was staring at him with an unreadable look. Katsuki’s eyes fell again to the scar on Izuku’s cheek, barely visible beneath the covers.
“If someone wants to hurt you, it’s over my dead fucking body.” He silently cursed himself for his word choice. Idiot.
Katsuki could see the tears welling up in his eyes.
“But Ka—” Izuku began.
“It’s not up for discussion. I will never let anyone hurt you again.”
He cursed himself for how soft he sounded, the vulnerability creeping into his tone making him grit his teeth. Katsuki noticed Izuku nodding slowly, the initial shock giving way to a quiet acceptance.
“Okay,” Izuku murmured. “Thank you.” He added. He noticed a single tear slide down Izuku’s cheek, but he forced himself to look away, not wanting to upset him further by acknowledging it.
Katsuki sighed deeply, carding a hand through his hair. “Just get some sleep, nerd.” He averted his gaze, twisting the desk chair to look out the window.
A long silence stretched between them until Izuku finally spoke up.
“Goodnight, Kacchan.”
Be normal. Say goodnight like a normal person.
He didn’t.
It was Friday night, so he didn’t have to worry about waking up early tomorrow. He didn’t mind staying with him, in fact, he wanted to be there to make sure the little shit actually fell asleep, especially after the further emotional turmoil he had just put him through.
Katsuki found himself staring at the countless All Might posters plastered on the wall.
Izuku was still such a fanboy nerd that it almost made Katsuki want to laugh.
But among the dozens of posters and figures, one photo stood out: a trading card of himself.
What the fuck?
His mouth fell slightly open at the sight of it, placed neatly on display next to the All Might card Izuku had cherished since childhood.
It felt as if someone had reached into his chest and squeezed his heart tightly.
After the war, there was a special release of hero trading cards featuring every hero who had fought. The proceeds went to a fund for rebuilding the damage. The supplies were extremely limited, making them hard to get, and scalpers were charging ridiculous prices for them. Katsuki knew this all too well because he had tried his hardest to snag any of them.
Not that he really cared about that kind of stuff… but he knew a few people who did.
Okay, maybe he had engaged in a bidding war online over a Hero Deku card. And Jeanist, Edgeshot, All Might, Red Riot, what fucking ever. He had really wanted those damn cards.
Sue him.
He had died (albeit temporarily) in that goddamn war, and nobody could spare him a card? Tch.
He took in the holographic card, his picture plastered across it, the words "G.E.M.G Dynamight" written boldly at the top. The fact that Izuku even owned the card, and that he had placed it next to his prized All Might card, was doing inexplicable shit to his heart. He didn’t want to think about how much Izuku had spent on it.
Katsuki continued to scan the desk, taking in the rest of the photos. There was a framed picture of Izuku, Four Eyes, and Round Face, all holding up peace signs in front of UA.
Another showed All Might and Izuku, likely taken during training between Class A and B.
Then he spotted a polaroid he had never seen before: it captured him and Izuku in front of the neighborhood playground, their arms wrapped around each other. Izuku wore a red All Might shirt, while Katsuki had on his black tee with a skull. Each of them grinned with toothy smiles, looking so damn happy.
The date written on it indicated it had been taken a few weeks before Katsuki’s fifth birthday.
The realization made Katsuki’s stomach turn. He let out a deep sigh. He glanced over his shoulder to check on Izuku. Who looked asleep now. He was breathing evenly, lips slightly parted. Katsuki took another deep breath, preparing to leave.
He didn’t want to go, not at all.
He didn’t want to leave Izuku alone. But sleeping here tonight purposefully, felt like he was exposing way too much. It was too much of a risk.
But now that they’d crossed this threshold, he knew there was no turning back.
He would stay here until he fell asleep every damn night if that’s what it took. He’d set aside his personal feelings, even though a tiny flicker of hope whispered that maybe they weren’t unrequited.
But that was a thought for another night.
He stood up quietly, watching Izuku’s expression for any signs of waking. His face was serene, lying on his side and facing Katsuki. His eyelashes fanned softly across his cheek, and his curls fell into his eyes.
Katsuki took a tentative step forward. Before he could stop himself, he reached out to push back those unruly curls that had fallen across Izuku’s forehead, his fingers brushing lightly against warm skin.
Then he leaned forward. And his lips brushed against Izuku's forehead, quick, fleeting, but undeniable.
He pulled back just as quickly, his heart pounding in his chest, his cheeks burning. He lingered for just a heartbeat longer, taking in the sight of Izuku’s relaxed features.
Wait.
What the fuck was he doing?
He stepped backward, his body moving like it was in slow motion, reeling. As he turned to leave, a surge of anger flared inside him. His chest tightened, the familiar rage coming out, but this time, it was aimed squarely at himself.
What the hell was he thinking?
He cursed under his breath, the words bitter on his tongue.
Kissing Izuku’s forehead like some lovesick idiot…fuck. He was so damn stupid. He was letting feelings surface that were never supposed to see the light of day. Taking things that didn’t belong to him.
Because, what if?
What if he let himself love Izuku, only to lose him?
But the worst part was that he knew he couldn’t stop loving him if he tried. It was a truth he’d take to the damn grave if he had to.
He left the room, stealing one last glance as he shut the door gently behind him.
Once in his room, he grabbed his phone from the nightstand. He flicked the ringer on and cranked up the volume. He hesitated, then typed with determination, his heart racing.
“Call me if you wake back up. I fucking mean it. You don’t gotta go through this alone. ”
He pressed send before he could second guess himself, hope and anxiety swirling within him.
He put his phone back on the charger, and triple checked his ringer was on before locking it and placing it next to his bed.
With a heavy sigh, he turned to the bed and fell asleep on top of the covers.