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“The stupid idiot is using the last of his quirk,” Katsuki announces just after Izuku flees the dorms, using One for All to catch up to Uraraka.
“What do you mean?” Kirishima questions and Katsuki feels a bit selfish for airing out Izuku’s business, but if it gets the others to pay more attention to Izuku…what’s the real harm?
“The nerd gave away his quirk to win the war. He’s on the embers now, like All Might at Camino. They’re both idiots,” Katsuki tuts, snapping his head to the side to avoid seeing any reactions.
“Let’s go after them. I’ve already stood by before when my friends were in trouble, I don’t want to do it again,” Asui suggests and a snarky grin works its way onto Katsuki’s lips.
“Yeah. Whatever,” Katsuki agrees.
And so the whole class begins to gather, with Iida running to grab Mr. Aizawa as well. Katsuki leaves as soon as it’s decided to follow the duo because, in truth, he can’t bear the idea of not chasing after Izuku now. He knows that Izuku is a hero and probably the best person to talk to Uraraka at the moment, but the idea of letting Izuku out of his eyesight after what all has happened makes Katsuki somewhat uneasy.
The gathering feels strangely familiar to Katsuki, in a way that is neither welcome nor unwelcome. It reminds him of the class teaming up to go save Izuku, to bring him back. Katsuki knows that Uraraka is the one who has the class worried, but he can’t bring himself to let go of the sadness that has plagued Izuku’s face in all of the days since the war. Yes, begrudgingly Katsuki will admit that he cares at least a little for all of his classmates, but Izuku? Izuku is leagues above the others in Katsuki’s mind.
It doesn’t take long for the class to show up onto the cliff, and something murky and painful stabs at Katsuki’s heart as he sees the boy holding Uraraka’s hands, floating slightly. He can’t place the feeling, not quite, but it’s something deep that’s itching to be revealed. Katsuki lingers behind as everyone else swarms the duo, pushing Izuku to the side to be able to hug her and worry for her. Katsuki takes to focusing on Izuku instead. Uraraka has so many people to look out for her and care for her, but right now, with the way Izuku’s been pretending, no one else has a clue that he isn’t happy.
Katsuki slowly walks up to a soft looking Izuku, left arm swirling around in his pocket. It saddens him that his pockets are lacking now, that his All Might card had been retired to resting on his bedside table instead so as to ensure it won’t get even more messed up. It leaves Katsuki with little else to fiddle with, so he settles on twirling small balls of lint between his thumb and middle finger as he approaches Izuku.
“Are…do you still have the embers, since you jumped all the way here with One for All?” Katsuki questions and Izuku wipes his eye as he confirms that he does indeed still have them.
Katsuki isn’t quite sure how the embers work or how long Izuku has before they fade. He knows that All Might got nearly a full year’s worth of work in on his embers, but as much as he wants to be, Izuku is not All Might. No matter though, Katsuki wants to be by Izuku’s side when it happens, wants to make sure the boy isn’t alone when he loses something so dear. Izuku and Katsuki stand to the side awkwardly as everyone moves to and away from Uraraka, unsure of how to continue the conversation. How do you talk about anything casual when you have so many important things to say to someone?
Izuku is soon swarmed by their classmates, causing Katsuki to push back until he stands far away from it all. He knows he should be celebrating, knows that this is all such an emotional moment for his class, and he thinks how Izuku is so selfless in the way he acknowledges the heroism of the entire class. But Katsuki feels none of it. He feels none of it because none of it feels real. It all feels fabricated, like everyone is just putting on a show. Katsuki can’t stand that, can’t stand the idea of just pretending like everything is okay, that they hadn’t fought in a war, that Izuku isn’t going to be quirkless again soon
Maybe Katsuki understands Uraraka more than he thought. At least, he can understand how strongly she feels for Izuku and the way that she is mourning all of the losses of the war. Katsuki doesn’t know if he can hold it back for much longer either, but he knows what he’s feeling is a little different from Uraraka. Katsuki has no grievances with how he handled the war himself. He would do every single thing all over again if it means to getting to where he is now. But he can’t get over Izuku.
Where Uraraka admires the Izuku who sacrifices himself over and over again for everyone, Katsuki is a little more selfish. He can’t bring himself to admire the nerd’s self-sacrificial spirit because all it does is put the boy in danger. No, Katsuki admires the mantra Izuku seems to live by, admires the way he longs to save people to win, but Katsuki will never be okay with the means by which he does this.
The next few days have little impact on Katsuki because he can’t for the life of him stop thinking about Izuku. Katsuki keeps a careful watch on the boy, sitting beside him at Aoyama’s going away party and ensuring he’s always on his team during patrol shifts. It’s not that he doesn’t take these things seriously—it’s just that he can’t focus when he knows Izuku is hurting. There was once a time in his life where he wished to inflict harm upon the boy, but now they’re too far gone, too interconnected to not breathe each other like oxygen. Or maybe it’s just Katsuki.
Izuku has been avoiding him. It hasn’t been difficult for Katsuki to realize, with the way the blonde has been trying to keep a close watch on him. Izuku is always running off to be next to Pink Cheeks, Glasses, or Half-N-Half, never sparing any time for Katsuki unless he forces it upon Izuku. It’s fine. Katsuki can deal with it because at least Izuku is getting some attention. If separation from Katsuki is what Izuku desires, Katsuki will oblige as much as possible. He will not be forcing any conversation, but he will keep Izuku within ten feet of him at all times. It may not be healthy for him, may not be what Izuku wants, but he’ll be damned if he loses Izuku again. Losing him once was enough for twenty lifetimes, and Katsuki has already beat death once, so he doubts he’ll be able to do it nineteen more times.
A week after Aoyama’s party, Katsuki really begins to notice a decline in Izuku’s wellbeing. Despite smiling all of the time, the bags under his eyes rival the ones that were painted on him after he ran away from UA. His frame is slighter and his words, though frequent, are much meeker than before. It would take someone well-versed in Izuku to understand these changes, which is why Katsuki doesn’t quite blame their classmates for not taking notice. Katsuki knows everything about Izuku. Katsuki has watched Izuku nearly every day of his life, has studied him so much that he knows how many freckles dance across his face. For Katsuki, Izuku is everything, and he has been for a very long while.
Katsuki decides that he won’t let Izuku ignore him any longer, won’t stand by as he watches Izuku destroy himself for the millionth time. No, Katsuki has said it before and will repeat it to Izuku as many times as it takes: Katsuki’s purpose is to step in when Izuku can’t handle things on his own. Katsuki was born for this reason, the ability to read Izuku having been encoded into his very DNA. Yes, this is a job for Katsuki alone, and luckily for Izuku, Katsuki knows what he needs, knows what he loves, and knows how to grind just the right amount of Izuku’s gears.
Katsuki wakes up extra early to prepare breakfast for him and the nerd. He’s always been relatively great at everything, so it hasn’t been extremely burdensome to switch to using his left hand more than his right, but cooking can be tough with only one arm. The breakfast is simple, fish, soup, and rice, and Katsuki loads the dishes for two carefully and intricately onto a serving tray. With a stuck out tongue, Katsuki wiggles the tray off of the counter and onto the palm of his left hand so that he can deliver it to Izuku’s room. It’s not slick, but Katsuki realizes once he gets to Izuku’s door that he can’t knock, so he kicks it instead, gently enough to grab the dork’s attention without completely freaking him out.
Izuku cracks open the door and even though he’s standing in darkness, Katsuki can see the way he pales when he clocks who it is.
“Open up,” Katsuki demands with no real bite, but Izuku stays completely put.
“What do you want, Kacchan?” Izuku asks and Katsuki squints his eyes in a brief moment of inflated anger.
“I made you breakfast and the tray is fucking heavy. Open the goddamn door,” Katsuki grits out, hand shaking under the careful balance of the tray.
Izuku sighs, Katsuki immediately noting the sass, but he opens the door. He steps aside to allow Katsuki to enter. Something deflates in him when he notices the way a lot of the All Might merchandise has found its way out of Izuku’s room, at the way it has become so devoid of the things that make Izuku who he is.
Katsuki sets the tray of food on Izuku’s desk, and he leans against the wall beside it, tucking his left hand under his right arm to compensate for the fact that he can’t outright cross his arms at Izuku’s behavior.
“I really appreciate the gesture, Kacchan, but I can make my own food,” Izuku blankly states, not even bothering to look at Katsuki as he goes to sit back in his bed.
“Yeah, maybe, but I don’t think you’re even doing that half the time,” Katsuki scolds and Izuku raises an eyebrow unimpressed.
“What does that even mean?” Izuku groans and Katsuki feels like maybe he understands how his parents feel when dealing with him.
“It means that I’ve noticed you lost some weight. You look like shit,” Katsuki grunts, staring down the younger boy.
“Gee, thanks,” Izuku sarcastically says, choosing to look outside his window instead of at Katsuki.
“We’re gonna eat this food, and we’re gonna talk,” Katsuki commands, but it’s not an option. Izuku has no choice.
“Can we please not do this?” Izuku pleads after Katsuki begins to bring the food to Izuku’s bed.
“Do what?” Katsuki asks, wondering what aspect Izuku is keen on ignoring.
“Fight. We always just…fight,” Izuku answers sadly, and Katsuki feels his heart break a little.
Sure, they’d had their rough points, and Katsuki did not make it easy to have a conversation with him without fighting, but he thought that he was doing so much better. They hadn’t fought in such a long time. Katsuki apologized to Izuku, and then they went to fight together. That may not have gone totally as planned, but Katsuki still showed up to play support for Izuku, allowing him to be the main catalyst to ending the war. Katsuki had broken down in the hospital to Izuku, had worried and worried about him. It offends Katsuki that Izuku still holds that mindset. He knows that the change of his character has been the most abrupt to Izuku, but goddamnit it can’t count for nothing.
“I’m not here to fight you, I-Izuku,” Katsuki stutters out and scowls. For some reason, even in the state they’re at right now, Katsuki finds it hard to not trip up over getting to call Izuku by his first name.
“Then why are you here, Kacchan,” Izuku rubs his head as if he already has a headache and deeply exhales.
“Because I care. Because I don’t want to see you…I don’t want you to leave again,” Katsuki vulnerably admits and Izuku’s wide eyes finally meet his.
“I’m not…I’m not gonna leave, Kacchan,” Izuku’s harsh façade melts, leaving his anxieties exposed.
“Yeah, whatever you say. You’re acting just like you did before you left UA. It’s like you don’t realize you have people who want to see you doing okay,” Katsuki’s expression sours and Izuku shakes his head quickly at the accusation.
“No, it’s not that. It’s nothing like that,” Izuku disagrees and Katsuki nudges a bowl of rice toward him.
“Eat while you talk. What is it if it’s not that?” Katsuki wonders, poking around at his food to show Izuku that they’re just two normal kids talking over a normal breakfast. Izuku takes a big bite of rice, sighing in content at the taste.
“Being a hero is harder than I thought it would be,” Izuku shrugs and Katsuki frowns.
“Elaborate,” He demands, tearing off a bite of his fish.
“There’s just too many people to save and not enough time. I couldn’t save Tenko, and I couldn’t…I couldn’t save you,” Izuku’s voice trails off into a whisper, but Katsuki still hears him clear as day.
It feels like cotton has just been pulled from Katsuki’s ears, like the glass in front of his face has just been cleaned for the first time in months. It makes sense now, why he was being neglected. Katsuki had died and Izuku hadn’t been able to save him. As much as Katsuki feels it is his responsibility to save Izuku, it must be the same for the shorter boy with him. After all, Izuku trying to save Katsuki time and time again is what has shaped their relationship into what it is today.
“That wasn’t on you,” Katsuki softly confirms, but Izuku sets down his chopsticks.
“No, Kacchan, you don’t understand. It was on me. I have—had—One for All. It was my responsibility to be there to take down Shigaraki, and I wasn’t. I let myself get distracted, get taken. I wasn’t fast enough. You were never supposed to be fighting alone, I had ensured that you wouldn’t be fighting alone, but I was naive. I…I let you die. And I know it’s okay now, but I can’t get that image of you out of my head,” Izuku’s voice has raised and raised and he’s practically shrieking across from Katsuki.
“Shh. It’s alright. I don’t blame you. I’m not mad at you. I don’t think it’s your fault. As the person that died, don’t you think I get a little bit of say into whose fault it was?” Katsuki smirks ever-so-slightly and Izuku scowls at him.
“Well…I dunno. All I know is that Shigaraki killed you as a present for me. I don’t know why he chose you, but he did it for me. That makes it my fault,” the boy argues and Katsuki groans loudly.
“Damn, even in death you won’t leave me be,” Katsuki rolls his eyes, but it’s all lighthearted.
No matter how hard he has tried to get rid of Izuku, the boy has never left Katsuki’s side. It’s taken a lot for him to be able to realize it, but there really is no better place for Izuku to be than by his side. He would take anything if it means being connected with Izuku until his dying breath.
“You’re mean,” Izuku pouts and Katsuki leans forward to ruffle his hair, careful to focus his pressure on the left side to avoid touching the boy’s scar.
“I’m just saying. I chose to continue to fight. I had the ability to back out, to be safe, but I needed to keep going. I was able to get a read on Shigaraki, one that not even the pros were able to. I was the only one who stood a chance at standing up to him, and I’m gonna be a winner until I die, got that I-Izuku?” Katsuki curses himself for the way he falters over Izuku’s name again, bringing down his coolness factor by at least a million, he’s sure.
“It really is hard for you to say my name, isn’t it?” Izuku points out, and the ghost of a teasing smile hints at his face.
“That’s the thing you’re focusing on?” Katsuki cocks up an eyebrow and Izuku rolls his eyes at him.
“Okay, whatever. You chose to do it,” Izuku summarizes and Katsuki nods.
“Which means it wasn’t your fault,” Katsuki sternly says, pointedly looking at Izuku who purses his lips and stays quiet.
Katsuki pulls the tray away from Izuku, shifting it to where it goes behind himself. Izuku blinks slowly as he processes what just happened, the rice that had been between his chopsticks falling onto his now uncovered bedsheet.
“What the hell?” Izuku questions and Katsuki shrugs.
“I’m not giving it back to you until you say it wasn’t your fault,” Katsuki lays down his conditions and Izuku presses a palm against his forehead, dragging it slowly down his face in frustration.
“You’re so impossible.” Izuku defiantly responds, but Katsuki just stares, unmoving.
“Kacchan.” Izuku threatens, but Katsuki retains his unwavering position.
“Fine. It wasn’t my fault,” Izuku relents and Katsuki grins, bringing the tray back around.
“There ya go, nerd. That wasn’t so hard was it? None of what happened was your fault. You were a kid in a war, so don’t get ahead of yourself. I think you were starting to let that power of yours get to your head,” Katsuki rolls his neck and pops his knuckles against the side of his head as he teases Izuku.
“Yeah, well. I don’t have it anymore,” Izuku immediately shuts down the playful comment, and any bit of lightness in the air quickly became tainted.
“That’s okay,” Katsuki reassures and Izuku chuckles insincerely.
“Is it?” Izuku hounds and Katsuki is at a near loss for words.
“Of course,” he manages assuredly.
“That quirk was the only reason I’ve been able to do anything worthwhile. It’s the only reason anyone besides my mom cares that I exist,” Izuku claims and his words are filled with so much self-resentment that it makes Katsuki physically recoil.
“I don’t care about your damn cursed quirk, okay? Don’t I count?” Katsuki is desperate and the feeling he felt when he saw Izuku and Uraraka holding hands that night on the cliff returns to weigh on his heart.
“You don’t get to say that when you’ve been asking me about the embers almost every single day. You don’t get to say that when you said we couldn’t have…couldn’t have a future together because of it,” Izuku spits out and Katsuki feels his brows furrow in concern.
“That’s not…I don’t give a damn about your quirk, I care about you! I know this is your dream, I know you’re gonna be sad when the embers fade, even though I’m still gonna make sure you become a hero. I just didn’t want you to think you had to deal with this shit alone. I don’t give a fuck what the future looks like anymore as long as you’re in it,” Katsuki is halfway yelling now, but he can’t find it in himself to quiet the passion his heart begs to exude.
“You…” Izuku trails off with eyes wide.
“Fuck, I-Izuku, I just wanted to be by your side. I don’t care how. I just want you,” Katsuki grumbles, pouting as he slurps the last bit of his soup and throws the spoon harshly into the bowl.
“Kacchan,” Izuku melts, tears forming in his eyes.
“I’ve been so worried. I care about losing the others, but I thought for sure that this was the end of…us. I didn’t think you’d wanna be around me if I was quirkless again,” Izuku confesses and Katsuki wants to hold him tight against his chest.
“I don’t care if you’re quirkless or not. It should’ve never mattered to me in the first place. You’re Izuku and that’s the best thing you could be,” Katsuki looks up into Izuku’s big, green, hopeful eyes, and he feels his heart lighten and his headache dull.
Izuku bites a wobbly lip and casts his head down in an attempt to hold back his tears. Katsuki moves the tray once more and scoots toward Izuku, heartbeat racing when their thighs, hips, and shoulders all brush together. Katsuki gulps jarringly and reaches a timid left arm to wrap around Izuku’s shoulders, carefully guiding him to rest his head on Katsuki’s chest.
“Thank you, Kacchan,” Izuku murmurs into Katsuki’s chest, causing Katsuki to try and squeeze him closer.
“I’m always here when you can’t handle things on your own. My hand is always outstretched for you,” Katsuki reminds and Izuku huffs as he remains pressed into the blonde.
“Please don’t leave me,” Izuku begs and Katsuki scoffs.
“If I couldn’t shake you after all these years, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to,” Katsuki replies, but Izuku knows it’s just compensation.
“I care about you, too, you know?” Izuku looks up at Katsuki, who has to look away to be able to save face.
“Yeah, I know. Like I said, I’ve never been able to shake you,” Katsuki tuts and Izuku giggles.
“Please. Like you aren’t trying to be by my side 24/7,” Izuku retorts and Katsuki can feel a blush heat up his cheeks and ears.
“You’re a nerd,” Katsuki bullies, but Izuku just laughs and laughs.
“Yeah, maybe. And you will never escape me,” Izuku fake threatens with a smile and Katsuki groans and grabs his heart.
“This fucking sucks,” Katsuki complains, fondness dripping from the words, causing Izuku to giggle once more. Katsuki could get drunk off of the sound of it, longs to hear it over and over for the rest of his life.
“You love it,” Izuku boldly teases.
“I-Izuku!” Katsuki sputters and Izuku cackles.
“Sorry, Kacchan. You’re just fun to mess with,” Izuku smiles brightly and Katsuki can feel his lips curling up in response, his eyebrows raising as well.
“I’ll never get used to that,” Izuku whispers out his confession like he’s in a church, not Katsuki’s hold, and Katsuki’s heart skips a beat.
“Used to what?” Katsuki’s tone matches Izuku’s, causing the other boy to shudder.
“You smiling like that,” Izuku confesses and Katsuki clicks his tongue, forcing his head to the side to avoid showing the way it heats up.
“It’s easy when you’re around,” Katsuki mutters and Izuku’s breath hitches in his throat.
“Right,” He nods once, sharply, turning his head the opposite way as well.
Something brave takes over Katsuki’s soul, and he uses the arm around Izuku’s shoulder to nudge the boy’s cheek, urging him to face Katsuki again. When Izuku does, Katsuki’s eyes roam his face, searching for signs of hatred or distrust and finding nothing but adoration. It fuels the fire burning under Katsuki’s heart, causes him to lean forward until their lips are centimeters apart. Crimson eyes stare at freckled rosé lips.
“Ka-Kacchan?” Izuku questions, warm breath blooming over the lower half of Katsuki’s face.
“Izuku,” Katsuki replies, but it’s really his way of asking permission, asking if this is okay.
“You finally said it without stuttering,” Izuku points out quietly, causing Katsuki to huff out a laugh.
“It’s a lot easier when I’m not looking at your stupid eyes,” Katsuki admits, knowing they’re just about his biggest weakness.
Izuku pulls back slightly, staring at Katsuki in disbelief.
“Yeah, those are the ones,” Katsuki smirks in reply, chasing Izuku’s face again.
“What—“ Izuku begins to ask, but Katsuki doesn’t let him finish.
Izuku’s lips are chapped, and they taste strongly of the onion soup Katsuki had prepared them, but they fit in with Katsuki’s like a puzzle. It’s without a doubt that Katsuki is given another reason for why they’re made for each other. The kiss is sloppy and rough with inexperience, but Katsuki has never been so keen on staying somewhere for so long. This is where he’s meant to be, right beside Izuku, lips glued together and hands clasping necks. Izuku draws back panting and flushed, and Katsuki blushes at the sight of him.
“You’re definitely not leaving my side now,” Katsuki informs with a smirk and Izuku finally gains the nerve to look at him.
“Okay,” Izuku agrees, leaning back in for another kiss.