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Relief is not something Katsuki Bakugo ever truly feels when he cries in sadness, or when he lashes out in anger. He knows this because he never truly feels better afterward, especially when it doesn’t do anything to change the situation he’s enduring.
So, recounting the times he’s blasted his quirk at his former childhood friend feels like a stack of marks against himself. It doesn’t make Deku get a quirk. It doesn’t make Deku stronger. It doesn’t even make Deku fight back.
He just takes the hit, whether it be when he’s cowering not to be hurt again or when he’s standing in front of another target of Katsuki’s ire. Deku allows himself to burn so others will not.
Katsuki has seen evidence of Deku allowing himself to be hurt for others, even when Katsuki is not the one causing the harm. Deku has stepped in the way of punches, kicks, gusts, tackles, and other attacks to let the target flee.
Deku has even hurt himself intentionally to help others, even when it would cost him the win.
Katsuki could never understand that… but he wanted to, wants to.
He wants to know why someone could sacrifice the win for any reason.
Why should you lose when you could win?
Why let yourself suffer when you can succeed?
Why do this when you can be better than me?
These thoughts have been throughout Katsuki’s mind since he’s known Deku… no, Izuku Midoriya. For all that Izuku has been through, he deserves to be called by his name. Not something Katsuki decided to call him to make fun of him… for something Izuku couldn’t even control.
Today, Katsuki finds himself in front of Izuku’s dorm, hesitating on knocking or going back to his room to write a three-page essay on the stupidity of his malicious actions his whole life, then keeping it to himself. This moment is agonizing.
Fortunately for Katsuki, he doesn’t exactly have to choose between his options as the door suddenly opens and the green-haired nerd he knows too well steps into frame with a slightly surprised expression.
“Oh, Kacchan,” Izuku says as he starts pulling an apologetic expression, “Did someone ask you to come get me again? Sorry. I know it probably gets in the way of your studies and training.”
Katsuki has many thoughts roaming around at the same time. Some questioning on who would come ask him to get Izuku, some on why he still uses Katsuki’s childhood nickname, and, most important, why Izuku still placates him.
He takes a breath before looking back into those deep and caring eyes in the former childhood friend’s face.
“M… may I speak with you, privately?” Katsuki asks in quite possibly the most gentle and deafeningly quiet way possible.
Izuku’s face contorts to confusion and concern before the teen nods and allows Katsuki to come into his dorm as he steps aside.
The blonde hasn’t been in Izuku’s room since they were kids. Granted, this is a dorm room, not like the housing unit that Auntie Inko owns. The typical hero memorabilia is here, though much less these days, since most of it is back in Musutafu.
There is one new thing to Katsuki: a corkboard with photos of their classmates and teachers, all signed or stamped. In each photo they took with Izuku, they’re all smiling or joking around. Each is a glimpse into a happy experience.
A single photo is missing from the center, though there doesn’t seem to be any marks or residue from it having been there before, so Izuku must not have a photo for that spot yet. At least that’s what Katsuki thinks. He could be wrong, but that’s not the point here.
“Kacchan, did something happen?” Izuku asks, his stature looking more rigid as he prepares to help in any way he can.
Katsuki can admire this in his former friend; he was at least always ready to help at a moment’s notice.
“I want to give you something long overdue, Izuku,” Katsuki states as he breathes as calmly as he can before slowly kneeling on the floor. “We’ve known each other since we were little kids— heroics in our hearts and dreams as high as the sky. When I got my quirk, and you didn’t, it was such a drastic and unknown thing to me. I didn’t know how to feel.”
“After listening to other kids and the adults, I started treating you how they would, a lot of the time much worse than they would,” Katsuki stated, hating how he used to treat Izuku from back then to a little under a year ago.
The blonde couldn’t let himself look into his former friend’s eyes until he was done, even when he heard the teen come closer and start to say something before Katsuki cut him off.
“I was a bully, a tormentor, a hateful moron that stomped on your dreams every day,” He hissed at himself, gripping his fists tight against his thighs, “I hurt you so much, all the time, every year. I destroyed what little friendship we had until I saw you as nothing more than a pebble in my path to greatness.”
The phrasing couldn’t be more apt. Katsuki used those exact words so many times that he could see them written on the back of his eyelids. If only he stopped himself sooner, learned what was wrong and what was right earlier…
“I treated you like a stepping stone, not a person, as if you were less than human… and I want to apologize,” Katsuki’s breath hitched strangely, feeling his throat tighten as he slowly lowered his head to the floor and touched his forehead to the floorboard, performing a full dogeza.
“I’m sorry, Izuku. I knew better than to make your life the way it was, the way it has been. You deserved better, more than anyone else. More than me.”
A few tense moments of silence ticked by as Katsuki felt his chest heave, finally feeling something that he needed to let out for so long. Something he should have done a long time ago, but never did.
“Katsuki, look at me,” Izuku finally said as he knelt close to him. The blonde slowly obeyed, looking up at his former friend. His brow was furrowed in concern, but also with acknowledgment and some surprising understanding.
“I’ve known you our whole life, and I know you’ve become a better person,” Izuku started, a small smile on his lips as he shifted into a sitting position before continuing, “I would have understood you never apologizing; in fact, I never expected it from you.”
That threw Katsuki off a bit, making him blink owlishly as Izuku gestured for him to sit up, so he obliged.
“Katsuki, thank you for coming to me privately for this. I don’t think I could have this conversation with you in public,” Izuku chuckles, “But I need you to know this: I already forgave you long ago. It was just going to take time because I know how you are. You’re intelligent, Katsuki. You can dissect a battle before you even engage, breeze through school work like you’re flying around in training, and you’ve even made some friends here at UA, not lackeys like at Musutafu.”
“You’ve changed so much because of these friendships, all for the better, of course,” Izuku states before taking a breath and centering himself before trailing off further, “Thank you, Katsuki. I forgive you.”
Katsuki lets out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, and he definitely feels better. His chest doesn’t feel as tight anymore as he sits back more naturally, relaxing as his body readjusts to be more comfortable. Izuku’s response is much the same.
“So,” Izuku starts as he locks eyes with Katsuki again, “Do you forgive yourself?”
That… that is something Katsuki didn’t think of, but…
“Eventually, I might. I just… I don’t know. There’s been too much I’ve done in the past, and I don’t think this apology alone will help me forgive myself. However, this is a good start,” the blonde states as he shrugs.
“Better than before, Kacchan. Much better than before,” Izuku says as he stands up and lends a hand to Katsuki. The blonde takes it and stands with him.
“That’s good, because I don’t have much more in the tank. I’m exhausted,” Katsuki sighs and rubs his face. Izuku snickers a bit before gesturing to the door.
“I think eating some dinner will help us both, don’t you think?” Izuku doesn’t necessarily ask as much as suggest with that statement. Katsuki nods and follows his friend out of the dorm room door.
“Whose turn is it to make food tonight? I know last night Glasses made some pork belly and rice, but I didn’t really care for it,” Katsuki asks in his usual gruff tone, making Izuku laugh at his typical nickname scheme for their classmates.
“That’s Iida for you, anyway. I think it’s Sato’s turn tonight,” Izuku says, checking his phone for their class’s dinner rotation as they make their way down to the living room and kitchen area.
“Ah, nice. Sato has the best sweets,” Katsuki states, before he can close his mouth, surprising both himself and Izuku, “don’t tell anyone.”
Izuku winces as he points behind Katsuki toward the kitchen area where Sato, Kirishima, Tsu, Kaminari, and a few others were gathered either in the prep-making process or watching from behind the kitchen’s bartop counter.
Katsuki sighs and wishes he weren’t alive on this plane of existence as his classmates start an uproar that would likely hound him every time Sato makes some sweets from now on.