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Katsuki was not your typical lovebird—he didn't like physical touch, he didn't like those stupidly sweet pet nicknames—he never considered the possibility of simply having a crush.
Usually, he would never even ponder this idea; it had never crossed his mind—that is, until Midoriya Izuku came back into his life.
As children, Izuku and Katsuki were what you would call best friends. Katsuki enjoyed his company, and Izuku seemed to reciprocate these feelings. As they got older, Katsuki started pushing Izuku away for a reason he might never admit to himself, partially because, to this day, he still didn't have a reasonable excuse for it.
Though Izuku claimed to have forgiven him, Katsuki still dwells on it sometimes, and his heart pangs with feelings of fear and guilt—feelings that are very unusual for the blonde to experience.
Over these past few months, Katsuki and Izuku have grown closer, and their proximity—which was once far and unobtainable—was now inching nearer and nearer by the day. Each time their hands grazed each other, or every round of eye contact they experienced, something was growing inside of Katsuki—a feeling he wasn't so sure he was comfortable with.
It happened a few weeks ago. Katsuki walked into the kitchen to find Izuku mindlessly tossing around ingredients, clearly not experienced with cooking. Katsuki budded in, and Izuku whipped his head around at the sound of footsteps approaching. Izuku opened and closed his mouth a few times, and he mustered out ”Kacchan! Uh- I was just- uhh” and to this, Katsuki let out an unusually loud snort and replied with “Fucking relax Deku, I just came to see why the kitchen smelled like death, and shit, I guess now I know why”.
Izuku grew smaller with each regard and growing stare that was placed upon him as he quickly set down the ingredients. “Oh, well.. Sorry, Kacchan.” Izuku mumbled quietly, and Katsuki felt that pressure of guilt rising inside his body, because he didn't mean to make Izuku upset—but why did he even care anyway? It's just Deku after all.
Katsuki frowned with a teasing glare in his crimson eyes and said “I'm fuckin joking Deku, keep cooking. And while you're at it, make me something too. I want to be the judge of this death food” which made Deku’s face light up. Neither of the boys said anything as Katsuki stared into Izuku's emerald eyes—with that signature sparkle always present, it was almost hard to look away.
As Izuku went back to cooking, Katsuki examined every move. He way his green curls bounced when he walked, and how he bit his bottom lip ever so slightly to remain concentrated. He walked with such confidence in a place he looked like he'd never seen, and with every new ingredient added, Katsuki slowly relaxed into the routine of watching his arms scramble around the kitchen for the next part of the recipe.
When he finished the prepping and put the dish in the oven to cook, Katsuki asked Izuku, “So, chef , what are we eating today?” which came off awfully flirty after he rolled it off his tongue. Izuku took note of this as he responded with a light flush rising from his cheeks, but he replied with confidence. “Well, Kacchan, you will just have to wait and see”, and Katsuki could have sworn everything stopped moving, because the way Izuku looked at Katsuki when he said that should've been illegal. The playfully suggestive tone paired with the flirtatious gaze—though he still won't admit it, Katsuki was in deep shit.
The two boys engaged in playful banter and normal common room conversation. They were on the topic of the new All Might documentary coming out when the oven dinged, signaling that the food was ready. As Izuku carefully lifted the meal out of the oven, he noticed something odd—there were separate sections in the pot of what looked like curry. Before Katsuki had time to question Izuku about it, his curiosity was diminished by Izuku adding, “I know you like your food extra spicy, so uhh I separated it because well… yknow- I'm not very good with spice. But I hope you like it! It's just basic curry, I'm still learning how to cook, and since this is my first time since I almost burned down my kitchen at home, I decided it might be better to cook something simple, right? And besides- it's not like i'd be able to make anything as good as you, so I wanted to start off easy by making something with only a fe-” his mumbling rant was cut short by Katsuki budding in interrupting, “Stop fucking mumbling and gimme my food—i'm starving”.
Izuku just stood there, staring at Katsuki for a few seconds before he regained his composure and mustered out a “Right! The food, coming right up Kacchan!” and Katsuki almost caught himself smiling at this—Deku was cute when he muttered.
No. Nope. Not doing this today. He did not just admit to himself that he thought Deku was fucking cute . Absolutely not. I mean, he's such a nerd, what is there to like about him? His eyes? His stupid curly hair? His freckles? The way his voice slightly pitches up an octave at the end of each sentence when he's nervous?—Katsuki does not remember learning that last fact about the other, but he decided to ignore it and focus on the food that was pushed in front of him.
The smell of spice hitting his nostrils relaxed him and helped him focus on anything other than stupid Deku. He took in the presentation of the curry—definitely not the best looking food in the world, but it could've been worse.
As he and Izuku ate their food together, the realization began weighing down on Katsuki—Izuku made this for me. He took the extra time to make it how he likes it. He got every ingredient down with just the right amount of spice for Katsuki's palette. Yea, these feelings were going to be hard as fuck to ignore.
So now, Katsuki was sitting on his bed staring at the ceiling after yet another night of training with Izuku. Too many thoughts were ushering through his brain and yet he felt like he wasn't processing any of them. After that day in the kitchen weeks ago, Katsuki hasn't felt the same. This warm feeling replaced the usual emptiness that he felt in his chest and the more time he spent with Izuku, the harder it was to suppress his smiles and small laughs. God, he's going crazy.
With not many other options he resorted to the only one he could really bring to the front of his brain with all of the other thoughts ushering through—Kirishima, he needed to text Kirishima—he's good at this stuff and he's the only person that knows about Katsukis “not hating but totally not liking” Izuku issue— so katsuki pulled out his phone and clicked on the last contact that came up because he didn't text anyone else and his brain was too eager to let out some of its whirlwind of thoughts. He clicked away at his keyboard as fast as possible, not focusing on spelling or making sense, just trying to remove this heavy weight from his mind before he actually did go crazy, and he clicked the send button before quickly putting his phone down.
Me -11:04pm (read)
SHITTY HAIR IM DYING.
I CSNT DO THIS ANYMORE IM TOO GAY FOR TS
ITS HIS FACE IM TELLING YOU. HIS PRETTY EYES, HIS LAUGH. ACTUALLY ITS EVERYTHING
DID I MENTION HIS EYES?
KIRI HE LOOKED AT ME TODSY AND ISTFG IT FEELS ILLEGAL.
IM NOT FUCKING CRAZY
SHITTY HAIR YOU BETTER FUCKIN RESPND BEFORE I BLOW MYSELF UP.
He already felt lighter after just simply sending a few texts. He didn't go back and check what he said because truly, he just needed an escape from his mind; he wasn't too focused on the actual message being delivered—that is, until he heard his phone ping, and he slowly reached back for it before opening up his previous chat.
Deku- 11:16pm (read)
Uhh Kacchan I think you have the wrong number.
Are you ok?
Kacchan?
For the second time in the last year, his heart stopped, he really thought he was gone for good this time. His eyes lifted up at the contact name and he froze. His once racing mind had not stopped and no more thoughts were being produced, just a wrenching feeling churning up in his stomach. Fuck.
How could he be so stupid? Why didn't he check the contact? The bigger question being—How was he supposed to get out of this predicament?—Katsukis phone pinged again in his lap and he cautiously picked it up before reading the message he received.
Deku- 11:25pm (read)
Kacchan what's going on?
Kacchan?
Respond! I can see you're reading these chats, please. I just want to know if you're ok.
Yep. This was it. Impeccable doom. Bakugo Katsuki was going to actually die because he—someone who survived a WAR, after dying and then resurrecting—accidentally texted the wrong guy. No, not just any guy. THE guy. The one he's been downright going batshit crazy over for fucking weeks!
Kirishima softly spoke up, “Listen bakubro, it's going to be ok. It's not like you said his name directly or anything! Knowing Midoriya, he's probably more concerned with your well-being than about who you were gawking over in that text”. He said it with such reassurance in his voice that for a moment, Katsuki almost believed that everything truly would be fine. His mind decided to turn back on and the thoughts had come rushing into his mind. He began panting heavily and gasping for air, because somehow all the oxygen in the room just dissipated and he was in an open pit of doom. Drowning in his own thoughts he sat there, on the floor of Kirishima's room, with nothing but fear in his eyes.
“Woah bro its ok, seriously, everything is going to be fine. It happens to the best of us. I'm telling you he probably isn't even giving it a second thought! Bakugo breath, deep breaths ok? It's all going to be ok, yea? In and out, keep breathing.” And that he did. Katsuki followed Kirishima's motions and took deep breaths in and out until he began to familiarize himself with the presence of air in the room. His mind was much less a cyclone and now more of a controlled tornado—still racing with every possibility and excuse he could come up with, but also including small reassuring messages surfing through the endless train.
“Yea- shit, ok. It's going to be fine. He's definitely not sitting at his phone and thinking I'm fucking insane. Right.” Katsuki breathed out, more trying to reassure himself but it came out far more sarcastic than intended, and that only caused him to worry himself even more.
Kirishima blinked a few times, trying to comprehend what the hell was happening, before reassuring Katsuki, “Exactly! See that's the right mindset! It's all going to be fine! You're going to see him tomorrow and act like nothing even happened.”. Shit— school , he had that to worry about tomorrow. The school where he sits directly in front of the green-haired nerd whom he was planning on ignoring for the rest of his years alive. Just great.
Kirishima seemed to sense the worry in Katsuki's eyes because he quickly followed with “Seriously dude, you need to chill, ok! Midoriya is a good guy—he would never make fun of you and he especially won't make it awkward at school”. If Katsuki was being honest, that only made things worse, because knowing Izuku and the mumbling mess he brings to every situation, this was going to be no fucking different. But, he didn't want to spiral any further with Kirishima in range of witnessing it, because he already seemed crazy and he did NOT want to further confirm that title.
Katsuki left Kirishima's room with more confusion than he entered with, but at least the feeling of death and impending doom left. It was all going to be ok—he kept reminding himself, but every time it seemed like a lie stuck on the tip of his brain that he was forcing to surface. He didn't sleep an ounce that night. He tried everything, doing pushups, pacing the room, writing in his stupid journal, and he even tried sitting still for 15 minutes—which to be honest was just out of desperation—he didn't believe in those shitty “life-hacks”.
He lay awake in the middle of the night, dwelling on all the possibilities of questions Izuku would have for him tomorrow morning, and when his brain finally thought of as many outcomes as he could, he finally drifted off into a light sleep.
Izuku woke up uneasy—he didn’t know exactly what caused it, but after that text last night, he didn’t know what to think. Kacchan had a crush. He liked someone. A guy. I mean, it wasn’t weird to be this interested in your friends’ love lives, right? This was normal. It’s not like he cared who Kacchan liked anyway, right?
After throwing on a quick pair of shorts and a T-shirt, Izuku made his way to the common room before class to grab some breakfast. He was throwing together the brightest coloured cereal he could find when the door slid open. Katsuki was sweating as he walked confidently toward Izuku.
“What is this shit, nerd?” Katsuki stated while pointing at the cereal. Izuku stuttered out a tired, “It’s breakfast, Kacchan,” and to that, the blonde protested, “Tch, this shit barely counts as food. I’m sure All Might would love to hear how his precious successor is eating garbage for breakfast.” At this, Izuku whined, “Kacchaaannn—you know I can’t cook,” and Katsuki laughed at this.
After long minutes of bantering—which Izuku couldn’t say he hated—Katsuki ended up making pancakes for him. It was moments like these when Izuku realized just how much his friend had changed. He had even gotten his anger under control…well, sometimes.
Now that Izuku thought about it, Katsuki had been acting quite differently that morning. He only caught it because of the occasional weary glance the other would throw him, or the nervous stutter which would never usually leave Katsuki’s mouth.
They sat together and enjoyed their food in silence, until Izuku remembered the text from the night before. It was normal to be curious, right? He should ask about it; it was a friendly interest and a very normal conversation between two friends. So, after taking down another pancake (he was on his fourth, but that wasn’t important), he asked, “So, Kacchan…that text you sent me yest—” and suddenly Izuku was interrupted by a fit of coughing from the blonde.
The mood of the room suddenly shifted, and everything went quiet. As Izuku began to ponder every single excuse he could give Katsuki about his question, the other stood up and walked out of the room.
Izuku stayed seated for a while, until more people began filling the common room. What just happened? I mean, it wasn’t like he asked who it was about, he just mentioned it! Maybe Kacchan was embarrassed? Whatever. It wasn’t like he cared. Just thinking about it made Izuku’s gut twinge, and it felt like his heart was skipping a few beats.
After tidying himself up, Izuku walked with his friends to class and took his seat, right behind the grumpy blonde who didn’t pay any mind to him. That wasn’t weird, right? His thoughts were suddenly cut off when Aizawa began the lesson, and all Izuku could do was pay attention to the nest of pointy ash-blonde hair in front of him. He thought about those texts he had received just the night before, pondering who the lucky guy could be.
Turns out that overthinking made things go by faster, because before he knew it, the lessons were over.
Katsuki began walking out of class when he got stopped by Izuku himself.
Izuku simply stated, “Uhm, Kacchan!" He squeaked, "Meet me on the roof in 10, m'kay?” and began walking away.
The blonde grunted in agreement before quickly leaving the classroom, causing Izuku to start internally freaking out.
The stairwell smelled faintly of disinfectant and sweat, which Katsuki barely registered. All he could focus on was the sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. Ten minutes until he’d see him. Ten minutes until he had to confront this mess of feelings he’d been suppressing for weeks. Ten minutes until he possibly—probably—made a complete ass of himself.
“Kacchan…you sure you’re ready for this?” Kirishima’s voice buzzed in his brain, the helpful little idiot that he was, popping up like a persistent pop quiz he didn’t study for. Katsuki scowled at the imaginary voice of his friend, mentally shoving it into a locker somewhere.
I’m ready.
Yeah, he was ready. Sure, his stomach was twisting itself into some complicated knot that could’ve tied up a small horse, and maybe his hands were a little sweaty, but that was fine. Totally fine. He was Bakugo Katsuki. He’s faced villains, fought wars, survived explosions—and now the worst battle of all was him admitting he liked someone. Like… someone.
Someone like Izuku.
Katsuki’s jaw tightened. He could feel the words on the tip of his tongue, but it was like they were fighting him tooth and nail to get out. He stormed onto the roof, trying to act casual, because that’s what you do, right? Walk like you own the damn rooftop even when your chest feels like a jackhammer, and your brain refuses to let you think straight.
And there he was. Izuku was leaning against the rail, hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie, eyes scanning the cityscape like he wasn’t already aware of Katsuki’s presence. The green curls, soft and messy, glinting in the sunlight, the freckles catching every ray—it was unfair. It was illegal. It made Katsuki want to punch something, hug something, and scream something all at once.
“Hey,” Katsuki muttered, trying for casual. He failed spectacularly. His voice came out harsher than intended, rough and clipped, but that was fine. That was him.
“Hey, Kacchan,” Izuku replied, voice quiet, careful, almost like he was stepping on eggshells. That carefulness made Katsuki’s chest tighten. Why did his chest do that? Why did Izuku’s quiet voice feel like it was drilling straight into his ribcage?
Katsuki tried to act nonchalant. “So…uh, you called me here.”
Izuku nodded, chewing the inside of his cheek, eyes flicking nervously to Katsuki and back to the city below. “Yeah…uh, I wanted to—well, I mean—” His words stumbled over themselves, and Katsuki internally snorted. Oh, this was perfect. The boy who never stumbled over words around anyone else was a mess when it came to him.
“Spit it out, nerd,” Katsuki said, trying to sound firm, but his voice cracked slightly, and he wanted to punch something immediately. Preferably himself.
Izuku swallowed, took a step forward. “I just…wanted to talk. About…stuff. Us. About you.”
Katsuki froze. He knew what was coming. He knew. And he also knew he wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready to admit it, not here, not like this. But the way Izuku’s emerald eyes met his, patient and nervous and soft all at once, made something inside him twist painfully.
“Stuff, huh?” he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck like he wasn’t melting from the inside out. “Well, you’re not exactly clear, nerd. So…what exactly?”
Izuku hesitated. Took another step. “Kacchan…do you…do you like me?”
Katsuki’s chest stopped. Literally stopped. The air in his lungs betrayed him, a gasp he didn’t expect escaping before he could stop it. He blinked. He blinked again. Did he just hear that right? Do you like me?
He’d rehearsed this question a thousand times in his mind. Every scenario, every possible way this could go—he had prepared. And now that it was here? He had no idea how to respond.
“I…what the—” Katsuki choked, kicking at a nearby vent with his sneaker in frustration. “You—you’re asking me that now? Like…like I’m supposed to answer this calmly? Calmly, nerd?!”
Izuku’s face fell slightly, fear flashing across his features. “I—I just wanted to know. You…you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to, I just…thought maybe you—”
Katsuki’s hands shot up. “No! No, I got it, okay?! I got it! You’re asking, I understand—just…fuck, nerd, you don’t understand how hard this is for me!”
Izuku’s eyes widened, a soft “Kacchan…” whisper leaving his lips. That voice—soft, worried, oh so distracting—made Katsuki’s knees weak. He hated it. Absolutely hated it.
“I’m not some…some dumb puppy, nerd! I don’t just…fall for people! I don’t…like anyone, ever! And yet here I am—here I am, sitting on a rooftop, about to tell you that…” His words stumbled, caught in the hurricane of his emotions. “I like you! I…like you, Izuku! Fuck! There! I said it!”
The air seemed to explode around them. Izuku’s eyes went wide, his mouth opening, closing, opening again. He looked like a deer caught in headlights—and Katsuki’s chest squeezed painfully because that reaction? It was perfect.
“You…you mean…you…like…like me?” Izuku finally managed, voice trembling, hope and disbelief and joy all tangled together.
Katsuki’s hands curled into fists at his sides. “Yes! I—fuck, yes! Don’t just stand there staring, nerd! Say something!”
Izuku’s lips curved into a small, careful smile. “I…like you too, Kacchan.”
That…that simple. Those three words hit Katsuki like a punch harder than any villain could muster. His chest loosened, the weight that had been pressing down on him for weeks lifting in a rush of relief and overwhelming heat.
“Say that again,” Katsuki demanded, voice rough but low, desperate.
“I like you too,” Izuku repeated, this time more confidently.
Katsuki let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, finally allowing himself to collapse a little against the railing. The wind whipped around them, carrying the city smells and the warmth of sunlight, and Katsuki felt…lighter. Finally, lighter.
Izuku stepped closer, hands brushing against Katsuki’s as he leaned on the railing, a faint blush on his cheeks. “So…we’re…um…together?”
Katsuki’s grin was wild, a little dangerous, and completely unrestrained. “Yeah, nerd. We’re together. Don’t fuck this up.”
Izuku laughed, soft and bright, and Katsuki felt something explode in his chest—pure, chaotic happiness.
And just like that, all the panic, all the anxiety, all the overthinking—it evaporated. For the first time in weeks, maybe even months, Katsuki felt…right.
The wind was light on the rooftop, carrying the faint scent of autumn leaves and city life below. Katsuki’s fingers were still brushing against Izuku’s as they leaned on the railing, shoulders occasionally bumping in that teasingly accidental way that made Katsuki’s chest feel like it was being squeezed.
“I still can’t believe I actually said it,” Katsuki muttered, his voice low, almost swallowed by the rustling leaves. He kept his crimson eyes on the horizon, though the way Izuku’s green ones followed him made it impossible to focus on anything else.
“You said it because it’s true,” Izuku replied softly. His voice was calm, steady, but there was a tremor of nervous excitement beneath it that made Katsuki’s chest pound. “And… I like that you did.”
Katsuki’s hands twitched. He wanted to say something, wanted to tease, but words failed him. All he could feel was the pull—the magnetic, ridiculous, undeniable pull toward Izuku that had been building for weeks.
“Then…” Katsuki started, swallowing hard, “…maybe we…could—” He froze mid-sentence when Izuku tilted his head, a soft, knowing smile spreading across his face.
“Kacchan…” Izuku whispered, barely audible, but it was enough. Enough to make the world shrink down until it was just the two of them. His hands reached up almost instinctively, and Katsuki’s heart leapt into his throat.
Before he could think, before he could overanalyze or doubt, Izuku leaned in. The motion was slow, tentative, a feather brushing against a cloud. Katsuki’s hands tightened around the railing, his knees threatening to buckle, his mind screaming nonsense while his heart was doing cartwheels.
And then their lips met.
It was soft. Electric. Like static in the air right before a storm. Katsuki’s initial impulse was to shove Izuku away, to curse him, to yell “NERD!”—but the second he felt that warmth, that gentleness, that undeniable tenderness, all pretense fell away.
Izuku’s lips were careful, patient, testing the waters, and Katsuki found himself leaning into the contact without realizing it. His hand twitched, searching, brushing against Izuku’s cheek, feeling the soft curve beneath his fingers. Every nerve in his body screamed, stay here, stay here, stay here.
The world shifted. The city faded. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath. There was no past. No future. Just this, just the two of them suspended in that fragile, shimmering moment.
When they finally pulled back, just slightly, Katsuki’s forehead rested against Izuku’s, breaths mingling, and the way Izuku’s cheeks were flushed…shit. Katsuki’s chest felt like it was going to explode.
“You…uh…wow,” Izuku managed, his voice a whisper, shaking in that way that made Katsuki want to grab him and never let go.
“Yeah…” Katsuki breathed, his usual bravado stripped down, replaced with raw, dizzying vulnerability. “…wow.”
Izuku laughed softly, a little breathless, a little giddy, and Katsuki couldn’t help but grin. “Nerd…you’re ridiculous.”
“You love it,” Izuku replied, eyes sparkling.
Katsuki’s laugh was low and rumbling, a sound reserved only for moments like this. He leaned in, pressing another brief, chaste kiss to Izuku’s lips, and somehow, it was better than before. Full of promise, full of the ridiculous, impossible feelings he’d been trying to ignore for weeks.
The two of them stayed on the rooftop, hands intertwined, foreheads together, hearts racing and eyes locked. Somewhere beneath the city hum, the world felt infinite, magical, and entirely theirs.
A week passed. Then two. Then a month.
School continued as usual, quirks, classes, and hero training, but Katsuki and Izuku found themselves navigating this new territory carefully, stealing quiet moments together in hallways, brushing hands under desks, small, fleeting touches that sent shivers down their spines.
No one knew, not yet. And Katsuki liked it that way. He liked the thrill, the secret. The private magic of simply holding Izuku’s hand during training, of leaning close when no one was looking, of feeling the brush of lips in a stolen moment on the rooftop after class.
It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t grand. It was ordinary. Ordinary and yet, every heartbeat between them was extraordinary.
But ordinary had a way of becoming extraordinary in the most unexpected moments…
It had been a few months since that first rooftop kiss. Life had settled into a comfortable rhythm, if you could call it that when you were constantly aware of the boy behind you, or the one sitting just a desk over.
Katsuki had learned to navigate the everyday world with Izuku tucked quietly in his pocket of secret happiness. There were mornings where he would nearly walk into walls just from thinking about the way Izuku’s hair fell over his eyes when he concentrated, or the way his laugh caught somewhere in his throat, shy and bright. There were afternoons where he found himself brushing against Izuku’s arm “accidentally,” or letting their fingers graze under tables until Izuku’s subtle flinch made his stomach twist in the best way.
They had learned to text in code, a string of emojis and shorthand that made sense only to them. A lunch break glance could mean anything from I love you to don’t let anyone sit here, and Katsuki had memorized the nuances like they were part of his muscle memory.
Life was…perfectly ordinary, in the way that made him feel alive. And then, of course, there was school.
It started on a Thursday morning. Katsuki had decided to finally push his luck with a little harmless teasing. Izuku had been working on a hero project for class, hunched over his desk, and Katsuki leaned over just enough to whisper, “Hey, nerd…you’re cute when you look serious like that.”
Izuku had sputtered, face turning red, muttering something about Kacchan stop it while Katsuki suppressed a grin behind his hand. It was a normal enough moment…until Kaminari, sitting two desks down, tilted his head and smirked knowingly.
“Ohhhhhh,” he said. “Wait…you two…are you guys like—together?”
Katsuki froze mid-breath, and Izuku’s pencil nearly fell out of his fingers. “N-No! Shut up!” Katsuki hissed, crimson heating his ears.
But Kaminari, of course, didn’t stop there. “Come on, I’m serious! The way you’ve been staring at him, Kacchan. I’ve seen the glances. I’ve seen the…hand-holding. I’ve seen it all.”
“YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP, PIKACHU!” Katsuki hissed again, shoving his desk lightly in panic.
“Wait, wait, I’m not the only one noticing, right?” Ashido piped up, bouncing in her seat. “I mean, c’mon, he’s literally glowing around you!”
Izuku’s ears were now a flaming shade of red to match Katsuki’s, and he looked like he might combust from embarrassment alone. “We’re…not—”
Before either of them could finish, Kirishima leaned over, eyes wide, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. “Kacchan,” he said slowly, like revealing a secret treasure, “you’re literally in love. And it’s about damn time you admit it.”
Katsuki turned to glare, but the combination of Kirishima’s grin and the entire class silently watching made him pause. He opened his mouth—probably to scream, curse, something—but then the words caught in his throat.
“Shut up, Kiri,” he muttered, but the blush creeping over his neck betrayed him entirely.
Kirishima simply shrugged. “I’m just saying. It’s obvious. Deku’s cute, yeah, but come on, you don’t need to hide it.”
The classroom had erupted into whispers and giggles. Even Aizawa, perched at the front of the room with his signature deadpan expression, didn’t even lift his head. Somehow, Katsuki found himself smirking despite the heat in his face.
Then, the most dangerous part: Izuku, flustered and mortified, finally spoke.
“Kacchan…maybe we shouldn’t—”
But Katsuki was already leaning over the desk, brushing a strand of Izuku’s hair from his eyes, their foreheads pressing together just slightly. “Shut the fuck up, nerd,” he whispered, lips hovering dangerously close. “We’re fine. They can all know. I don’t give a damn.”
Izuku’s hands trembled slightly as he let go of the pencil he’d been gripping and curled them around Katsuki’s arms. “R-Really?” he asked, voice soft, hopeful.
“Really,” Katsuki said, eyes blazing—not with anger, but with something warm, untouchable, and entirely his. “Now shut up and kiss me before you fuck this up too.”
And just like that, the world narrowed again. Desks and chatter and Aizawa’s indifferent gaze faded, leaving only the fluttering of hearts and the press of lips. It was messy, quick, a little clumsy, but magical. The kind of kiss that left your chest aching and your stomach fluttering for hours afterward.
When they pulled back, Izuku’s green eyes were shining, and Katsuki’s crimson ones softened in a way only Izuku could pull out of him.
“You’re impossible,” Izuku whispered, and Katsuki grinned.
“Yeah,” Katsuki replied, “but you like it.”
By the end of the week, everyone knew. Kaminari had been particularly persistent, Ashido gleefully teasing, and even Todoroki had raised an eyebrow and muttered, “About time.”
Katsuki didn’t care anymore. He and Izuku found themselves laughing about it between classes, holding hands openly in the hallways, teasing each other during training, and stealing kisses whenever they could.
Normal life suddenly felt full of color—every glance, every touch, every word between them held weight and warmth. The secret was out, but somehow, that didn’t make it less special. If anything, it made every mundane day feel like a new adventure.
And as Katsuki walked beside Izuku to class one afternoon, brushing their hands together intentionally, he realized something: love didn’t have to be quiet, or hidden, or whispered. Sometimes, it could be loud, messy, and chaotic—and that was perfect.
Because as long as Izuku was there, he didn’t care about the whispers, the giggles, or even the teasing. They had each other. And that was more than enough.