Work Text:
The new girl who follows Kacchan around, her name is Shimizu Yui. There’s not a single person in school—in the whole of Musutafu—who doesn’t know her from the sports festival. She’d emerged champion in the first-year events and Izuku remembers being absolutely marvelled by her performance. Shimizu’s quirk was one of the most powerful ones he’d come across. She’s able to body-slam a three-metre giant with ease. But that isn’t all there is to her. The girl is brave, nimble, and wickedly intelligent.
During the award ceremony, Shimizu was asked by a reporter, “Who do you look up to?”
And Izuku also remembers her answer, clear as day.
“Dynamight from Class 3A is my biggest inspiration.”
It made so much sense to him at the time. Izuku even smiled from where he sat in the audience. Kacchan’s amazing, and the support student is glad that someone equally amazing like Shimizu admires him too.
Being handpicked by Endeavor's agency in your first year—the one that Kacchan is currently interning at—is by no means an easy feat, bordering on impossible in fact, but somehow it’s entirely plausible that Shimizu made it. Izuku guesses this is how Kacchan and her met.
Still, something ugly rises within him as he observes the first-year tailing his boyfriend in the hallways. Kacchan’s popular of course, and he has his fair share of fans who hound him despite the threat of getting blasted in their faces. But there’s something different about the way Shimizu looks at Kacchan. Overhead fluorescents catch in her eyes—irises the prettiest shade of midnight blue—and they light up completely, incandescent in Kacchan’s presence. For some reason, the scene is painfully familiar.
It hits Izuku then, that this is exactly how he looks at Kacchan.
Bitter is how he would describe the taste in his mouth, the feeling in his chest, a phantom darkness scraping his insides, as his heart sinks into his stomach. Izuku is horrified by his own ugliness and quickly tries to smother it down.
You’re not the only one who’s allowed to like Kacchan.
You should be glad that Kacchan is getting the recognition he deserves.
Everybody loves Kacchan, and she’s just one of them.
You’re just one of them.
☾
Kacchan sneaks Izuku into his dorm. It’s exhilarating, to be carried up into the air and through the window, propelled by small blasts that are always well-timed and carefully placed. Never hurting Izuku. When they fly like this—Izuku’s noodly arms laced around Kacchan’s thick waist, face pressed to his collar—he can’t tell if the quivers he feels are from the explosions or Kacchan’s heart rattling underneath. He’s sure Eraserhead has seen them a couple of times while making his rounds outside the building, but Izuku is glad that the teacher has chosen to turn a blind eye. Other times, Kacchan’s friends—affectionately helmed as the Bakusquad, much to the green haired-boy’s amusement—helps to sneak him in too. The four of them are the only ones who know about their relationship. If not, being seen around the 3A dorms isn’t something to be too worried about, considering Izuku often works with these heroes-in-training. But he tries to keep such occasions to the minimum, lest Kacchan’s classmates become suspicious.
The couple are studying together, sides brushing as they pore over their books. Well, at least Kacchan is studying. Izuku’s kind of distracted by the way his boyfriend’s glasses are sitting perched on his nose. He resists the urge to push them up.
(His mind is also somewhere else, repeating the memory of the afternoon: Shimizu tracking Kacchan down the hallways, holding reverence in blue eyes.
A reverence that’s much too akin to love.)
Izuku’s hummingbird heartbeat pulses through his blood.
“Hey Kacchan. Can I ask you something?”
The blonde grunts in place of a response.
“Do you know that first-year? Shimizu Yui.”
Kacchan doesn’t even turn to face Izuku, nose still buried in his book, though he lets out an unamused snort.
“Yeah, she’s the new kid in my agency. What about her?”
“I was just thinking she’s so talented,” and it’s not a lie but he still feels funny saying it, “and I wonder what you think of her.”
Callous-coarse fingers curled around a pen are still scrawling neat penmanship over foolscap lines, when Kacchan groans, “She’s an annoying extra. Granted, she’s capable but still— she keeps following me around and it’s fucking annoying.”
The relief that bubbles in Izuku’s chest shouldn’t feel as good as it does. Happiness shouldn’t look this ugly. Sometimes, he thinks he might really be hiding a monster under his skin. Still, he presses closer to Kacchan’s side, smiling weakly when he receives a chaste kiss to the top of his head. Revels in the new lightness in his bones for as long as he can.
☾
Kacchan got together with Izuku after middle school graduation, when Izuku had told him he would give up on becoming a hero. He remembers their first kiss, tucked behind an alleyway, a fleeting peck on the lips, as furtive as the ones they currently share. They keep their relationship private, on the basis that it’s safer this way. Izuku understands the motivations behind it, but that doesn’t stop him from imagining what it’s like to hold Kacchan’s hand in school, to receive something more than a curt nod in greeting whenever they pass each other by.
The green haired-boy tells himself it’s enough to support Kacchan behind the scenes, and this is true to a certain extent. Izuku loves his role in the support department, and the off times he’s assisted with restructuring Kacchan’s gauntlets or inventing better hearing aids for the explosion hero he holds close to his heart. His classmates are just the right amount of supportive and competitive, a far cry from his bullies in middle school. And the cherry on top is being able to help all these wonderful heroes-in-training reach their dreams, like Uraraka and Iida.
Still, there’s a bitterness that never quite leaves when he thinks of the day All Might told him he couldn’t be a hero. It’s ebbed over the years—with becoming Kacchan’s boyfriend, and his support journey flourishing—but present, buried in the deepest crevice of his brain. Waiting to prowl on Izuku with its sharp nails and fangs for teeth.
That part of him always wonders what the view looks like, when he’s not watching Kacchan from the sidelines.
☾
Izuku notices that Shimizu’s started to join Kacchan and his friends at their lunch table. Beside him, Hatsume is rambling about her latest baby, and while the green haired-boy is usually invested in her creations, he finds that he currently doesn’t have the heart to listen. Viridian eyes can’t pry off Shimizu, who’s sitting next to the blonde, subconsciously curled towards him. Speaking animatedly, battle-bruised hands moving about in a flurry, and everyone at the table except Kacchan laughs in response to something she said.
To Kacchan’s credit, he looks disinterested, but Izuku can’t help the ugly feeling clawing up his throat.
Swallow it, swallow it, even if it settles like poison in your stomach.
Everybody loves Kacchan, and she’s just one of them—
This goes on for weeks. And then one day, Shimizu cracks a joke, and Kacchan is laughing. It’s a beautiful sound, cutting through the atmosphere like something wild and carefree, accompanied by the feral grin curling his mouth. But Izuku hears it like the shattering of glass, or maybe that’s the sound of his heart breaking.
Where his body used to turn away, Kacchan is now leaning closer to Shimizu, the distance between them collapsing centimetre by centimetre as the weeks stretch. And all Izuku can think is, I want to sit with you during lunch too. I want to make you laugh like that in front of everyone too.
☾
Izuku notices something new on Kacchan’s desk. Through the transparent packaging, he sees medicinal tape, burn cream, a brand new red-coloured notebook, and an assortment of snacks, both spicy and sweet. It’s a care pack. This must have come from one of Kacchan’s friends and the gesture is so sweet it makes Izuku smile as he fiddles with the wrapper.
“This is so nice. Who gave it to you? Let me guess— Kirishima-kun or Aishido-san?”
“Tch, as if Hair for Brains or Raccoon Eyes could assemble a care pack without destroying it in the process,” Kacchan grumbles without malice. “It’s from Shimizu.”
Everything inside Izuku runs cold. The world comes to a stop, his heart skipping a beat. Faintly, he recognises an iciness, driving into his bones. Frigid and painful, like leaving bare skin exposed in winter air.
He doesn’t know what hurts more. The fact that Kacchan received a gift from Shimizu, or that he calls her by her name. Or maybe, it’s the fact that he thinks she is, in his words, capable of assembling a care pack without destroying it in the process.
Izuku tries for a smile but it feels unsteady on his lips. He can only hope it doesn’t come off as a grimace.
“You seem closer to her now.”
“Eh, she’s not too bad.” And the green eyed-boy wishes, with every fibre of his being, that it wasn’t so devastating to hear. His ugliness feels so conspicuous, the monster inside him is winning.
Kacchan whips out a bag of chilli crackers from the package.
“Look, she even got my favourite right.”
Izuku wants to throw up his heart onto the floor.
☾
U.A. STUDENTS SAVE THE DAY AGAIN
Two quirk-boosted villains were arrested for instigating an armed robbery at Mizuno Bank in downtown Musutafu this afternoon. Hero-in-training Dynamight and U.A. student Shimizu Yui, who were patrolling the area as part of their internship duties, helped apprehend these villains with their sharp wit and quick thinking.
This is not the first we’ve heard of Dynamight. Despite his young age, the explosion hero-in-training has already made waves as one of U.A.’s most talented students, evident in his recent involvement with the Akibara serial killer case and Zenitsu hostage situation. Today, Dynamight has showcased his expertise by taking down both quirk-boosted villains with small but well-aimed explosions, ensuring that surrounding civilians were kept unharmed.
By his side was Shimizu Yui, whom we all know for her stellar performance at this year’s U.A. Sports Festival. As she has not yet attained her provisional hero license, she was unable to attack the robbers directly. However, her astuteness and ability to acclimate were demonstrated by how well she dodged civilians from being hit by loose rubble, all the while keeping to the rules of quirk usage. We look forward to seeing her growth as a hero in the coming years…read more.
Izuku stares at the photo of Kacchan and Shimizu on the screen. Their faces are marred with soot and garnet lines, but these blemishes fade out in favour of the smiles etched across their faces. Rows and rows of pearly whites, the corners of their lips raised to their zeniths, holding up their triumphs.
All the places Izuku used to hurt he’d patched up with new soil. But digging from the earth is that monster he’s tried to obscure for so long, grazing through his flesh, making something as beautiful as Kacchan’s smile feel so ugly to look at.
He reads the article over and over again. Shimizu is brilliant, and it shows with how thoughtful she acts, despite her limitations as a non-licensed hero. I’d do that too, Izuku thinks, if I… if I…
If I had a quirk.
Epidermis breaks, his heart breaks. Izuku is scraped raw, rid of his muscle and adipose tissue. There, draped over his skeleton, is the monster, heavy on his bones like thick sludge. He can’t breathe, feelings of jealousy and anger and sadness amalgamating to become something incomprehensible.
You see, this creature has green eyes. And so does Izuku.
Weighted by the full gravity of his emotions, Izuku falls into a bad mood. He can’t keep it off his face, in his furrowed brows and short temper. That day, when he passes Kacchan in the corridor, he immediately looks away, glaring into a spot on the wall. He ignores all of Kacchan’s texts and doesn’t eat lunch at the cafeteria so he won’t have to see him talking so sweetly to Shimizu again.
In the evening, Kacchan finds Izuku at the Development Studio and drags him to a corner.
“You weren’t at lunch today.”
“You can speak to me at my work station, Bakugou.”
The blonde frowns. “Why the fuck are you calling me that?”
“Because calling you Kacchan might give us away, right? Isn’t that why you pulled me over here, so no one can see us?”
“What the hell is this about?” Kacchan growls, “Is this why you haven’t replied to any of my texts?”
The monster dredges itself up between Izuku’s ribs, swirling in dark colours, clouding every semblance of rationality in his brain. When he looks down at his own hands, his skin appears obsidian to him. Spite is a double-edged knife that twists around his palm, and Izuku lets it cut into his flesh as he says, “Maybe it’s because you’re too fucking busy with Shimizu Yui.”
There’s a pause. He watches the anger on Kacchan’s face transform into confusion. And Izuku wants to reach out his hand, wipe that look off his face, because Kacchan shouldn’t be confused. Kacchan should know, should recognise how Shimizu gazes up at him with stars in her eyes. The way Izuku used to, the way he still does.
“This is— this is insane, Izuku. Do you even know how insane this sounds?” Kacchan taunts. “It’s so fucking out of left field. Of all things, you’re angry about Shimizu?”
“Kacchan,” and Izuku’s voice is desperate, almost pleading, “do you really not know the way she looks at you? Do you really not know how much she lo— likes you?”
“Yeah, because she’s my friend,” Kacchan spits out. Izuku’s heart stills in his chest, painful in its clenching. His traitorous brain reminds him that Kacchan doesn’t call people his friends so casually. Shimizu has left an impression, and everything hurts.
“So what, I can’t have friends now?”
Everything hurts. The monster has won.
Izuku is the monster.
“Maybe I should just be a friend, Kacchan,” he threatens, sounding so foreign even to himself, “because at least friends get to sit with you at lunch. Friends get to talk to you in school. Friends get to make you laugh without being afraid of giving anything away.”
“Izuku—”
Izuku flees before he can hear Kacchan’s reply. Tears are falling down his cheeks.
☾
The anger dissipates, swelling into something tender beneath Izuku’s sternum, aching when he presses against it. He carries this twinge in his chest through the school day, feeling like an outsider in his own skin. Guilt is so heavy in his limbs, making it hard to drag his body around. Izuku’s essentially a corpse who pulls his battered soul with dreary movements, bones ravaged by the monster breathing under his ribs.
When Kacchan knocks on the door of his room, Izuku just lets him in.
“I’m so fucking sorry,” is what the blonde says. But deep down, Izuku knows it isn’t Kacchan’s fault. What’s so wrong about Shimizu liking Kacchan? What’s so wrong about them being friends? If anything else, Izuku should be the one who’s sorry.
He doesn’t belong to you. He doesn’t belong to you.
That day, Kacchan is exceptionally sweet with Izuku. He threads his fingers through oil-slick viridian curls, pecking on the small smattering of freckles on Izuku’s forehead that’s often obscured by too-long bangs. He massages Izuku’s knotted hands, kneading into the small muscles with just the right amount of pressure, gentle but intent. He cooks Izuku’s favourite meal, katsudon, and it tastes almost like the one his mum makes.
Izuku should be happy. Kacchan isn’t usually this openly romantic. The green haired-boy does feel pampered by Kacchan’s ministrations. His anger has dulled into a small wisp of smoke that lingers in his crevasses. But there’s something amiss. At the end of the day, bitter trumps sweet, and the monster isn’t something he can wash out of his blood just by having Kacchan press closer to his skin.
The green haired-boy keeps thinking about Shimizu. Beautiful, beautiful Shimizu, with her midnight blue eyes and long raven hair that she ties into a high ponytail. The femininity of her body, belying firm muscle underneath. Soft as dreams, hard as power. The sureness with which she carries herself, ploughing through a battlefield, fighting by Kacchan’s side. Them, emerging as winners, emerging with lives saved.
And Izuku is—
Izuku is baby fat hanging off his body in some places, and bones protruding out of blemished skin in others. He is bruised hands and workshop dirt, he is the monster that looks at the world through stained glasses. He is furtive glances and surreptitious hands, he is Kacchan’s secret boyfriend.
He is a support student, he is not a hero.
He is decimated dreams, he is quirkless.
☾
When Izuku trawls down the hallways, he’s expecting to see Kacchan and Shimizu together. He’s almost immune to it at this point, the image of her tailing behind his boyfriend burned into the back of his eyelids.
What he sees today though is much, much worse.
They’re standing outside Kacchan’s locker. From this angle, Izuku can’t see Shimizu’s face but he catches the soft look in Kacchan’s eyes, desaturating the reds of his irises into something mellower. And they’re hugging each other, in front of all these students pacing down the corridors, Kacchan’s arms wrapped around her shoulders almost protectively so.
Something in Izuku just. Dies.
Then Kacchan lifts his head and meets his stare. Red eyes blow wide, losing their ethereal shine the moment they land on Izuku. Flustered, anxious, as if he’s been caught in the act. But is it really a crime? Izuku suddenly feels tired, like all the oxygen has been sucked out of his muscles. He isn’t even aware of the single tear that streaks down his cheek.
Kacchan’s beginning to untangle himself from Shimizu but Izuku doesn’t want to stay here anymore. He runs and runs, numbness and electricity at ends with each other, battling under his skin.
It’s as he’s reaching the courtyard when he feels a hand yanking down on his arm. Izuku turns around and finds Kacchan’s bewildered face. The monster inside him rears its head.
“It’s not what you think!” Kacchan yells. But Izuku just shakes his head, moisture obscuring his vision. His heart is shuddering in his ribcage, and each pulse of the muscle feels like a stab to his chest.
“It’s not about what I think…” Izuku sobs, feeling the monster teething around skeletal skin. “I told you, Kacchan… I told you how I felt seeing her with you… Shimizu loves you. You knew that. And you still hugged her.”
“You’re getting this wrong, Izuku. It’s all wrong!" Kacchan explains with heated words, hands coming up to dig into his scalp. "Something happened at work and she got upset so I was just trying to comfort her, like a friend.” Vexation is apparent in his features, but Izuku is having none of it.
“How about me? ” Izuku chokes out brokenly, “Because I’m hurting too. Because this is one of the worst days of my life. Would you hug me here in front of all your friends, Kacchan?”
Kacchan takes a step closer and while the proximity used to exhilarate, it makes something crawl inside of Izuku, the monster digging his feet into flesh scraped open.
“I would. Let me make this up to you, Izuku, I— Fuck, I love you.”
“Maybe I’m the wrong person to love.”
“... what?”
In another world, Izuku could stand by Kacchan’s side. He could be with Kacchan on the frontlines, like they’d both dreamed of as children. Kacchan could hold his hand in public, and together, they’d be dubbed as a force to be reckoned with. Something like Wonder Duo. But in this world—the one where he was born quirkless, the one where All Might told him he couldn’t be a hero, the one where Kacchan shines like the brightest star in the sky—Izuku fades into the background. People like Kacchan and Shimizu make up the constellations, while Izuku is meant to stay rooted to the ground. To look up at a starry ether and think, wow, these lights are beautiful, but I’ll never be a part of them. I’ll never be a part of them.
“What the fuck are you saying?”
“Let’s break up, Katsuki.”
☾
Izuku is miserable. Food is tasteless in his mouth, and sleep doesn’t come easy to him. He spends all his free time in the studio, working into the late hours, anything to quiet the cacophonies in his head. To erase the image of Kacchan and Shimizu hugging in the hallways. To forget the shattered expression on his face when Izuku suggested breaking up.
Kacchan doesn’t hang out with Shimizu anymore. But this observation doesn’t quell any of Izuku’s sorrows. He just keeps rinsing in them, inundated by waves of blue. Holding hands with the monster, distorting along with its malevolence.
When they chance upon each other in school, Izuku turns the other way. Ignores the heat that burns low in his throat because this is like all the other times before. Kacchan has never acknowledged him outside the confines of their dorm rooms, so it shouldn’t feel any different here.
A week later, in the studio, Kacchan comes to pick up his gauntlets. Izuku feels his heart convulse, pinpricks dotting all over his skin as the blonde approaches his work station. He wills himself not to fall apart on the spot. The atmosphere is a mirror of his feelings—tense, insidious, flammable.
“Here you go, Bakugou.” He passes the equipment to Kacchan, the smile on his face a precarious line, his tone clipped instead of professional. “I increased their capacity to collect more sweat. I also added a softer material to the inner cushioning, so it’d feel more comfortable for your arms.”
There’s a brief moment of silence and then Kacchan is closing in, something akin to desperation ripping from his throat. “Izuku, I—”
Izuku stops him. “I have to go. I have work to do and— yeah.”
Stalking off from the table, he stews in his own shame.
☾
Izuku receives a call. His heart squeezes in his chest when he sees Kirishima’s name on the screen.
“Hello?”
“Midoriya!” The crimson haired-hero’s voice is frantic, dripping with unease, and Izuku’s anxieties flare up upon hearing it.
“What happened? Is everything okay?”
“Katsuki is in the infirmary…”
The universe stills, or maybe Izuku has just frozen in place. His whole body is trembling, shaky fingers curled around his phone losing their grip. Panic rages through his synapses, because what if Kacchan is hurt, why is he in the infirmary, is he okay—
“He was hit by a villain during patrol today. Recovery Girl’s got him more or less fixed up, but his injuries were pretty bad so he has to stay there for a few more days to be observed.”
But Kacchan isn’t usually so careless, he never gets knocked out in a fight, he always wins.
Izuku realises he must have muttered those words aloud because Kirishima is saying, “Look, I don’t know what happened between you guys. But Katsuki isn’t okay. He hasn’t been, ever since the both of you broke up. Do you want to… do you want to go see him?”
Everything hurts.
Knowing Kacchan is in bad shape tips that pain over his tolerance scales. Somehow, this feels even worse.
“Okay,” replies Izuku.
☾
Entering the infirmary, the first thing that hits Izuku is the scent of antiseptic. Next is the visual of Kacchan on the bed, looking like a shrivelled, curled-up version of himself, bandages and gauze wrapped around his skin. It’s excruciating to look at.
There’s a long silence where they both don’t know what to say to each other. Izuku thinks Kacchan’s eyes—a liquified scarlet, brimming with pain—will haunt him forever, like this.
The quietude stretches like the distance between their dreams. Kacchan breaks it.
“Shimizu reminded me of you.”
Izuku is stunned. Of everything, he wasn’t expecting Kacchan to start with this.
“She’s intelligent, like you are. Always analysing, always making observations about the people and things around her. She’s the only one I know besides your nerdy ass who keeps hero notebooks. She admires me, yes, but she’s courageous enough to step in whenever I get out of line. Just like how you’d talk back to me. How you stood up for those other kids I bullied back in middle school.”
Icy horror pumps through Izuku’s veins. He didn’t think this would be the direction their conversation was steered towards.
“She mutters up a fucking storm. It was annoying at first but eventually, it endeared me, because you do that too. Most of all, she’s kind. She has the heart to save and because of that she’s especially hard on herself.”
Izuku quivers. He can’t tell if it’s from anger or disbelief. The fondness in Kacchan’s voice makes him sick.
“So what?” he seethes. “You like her because she’s a better version of me?”
Kacchan cuts serious eyes to Izuku right then. Fervently, he shakes his head.
“No, that’s where you’re wrong. Shimizu reminds me of you but she’s not like you. She could never be you.”
The blonde gestures to all the new injuries peppered over his skin. “She doesn’t make me weak, like you do. You leave me for a week, Izuku, and I lose my mind enough to get beat up by some F-list villain.”
Here, Izuku’s heart clenches in his chest, and he catches the tears crowding Kacchan’s eyes. It makes him want to cry too.
“She doesn’t make me strong, like you do. Doesn’t push me to become a better person, the way your existence alone does. How it gives me purpose, a reason to grow.”
Shivery exhales billow from his lips and Izuku stumbles nearer to the bed, guilty and heartbroken.
“Most of all, she doesn’t make me feel love like you do. I’ll never want to kiss her the way I want to kiss you. She’s a friend to keep, but not someone to have. Because I never wanted her like that. I want you.”
A sob tears from Izuku’s throat. “Kacchan…”
“That day at the locker, when I hugged her, it was because she was beating herself up over a mistake at work. In hindsight, I know now how inappropriate that was… She threw her arms around me, crying, and all I could think of was your hand, the one I didn’t take. I couldn’t do that to another person. But you told me how you felt about her, and still I embraced her, and that’s on me. I fucked up, Izuku, and I’m so fucking sorry.”
Kacchan’s voice cracks. It’s so unsteady, unlike how he usually is. Izuku’s legs crumple with the disequilibrium beneath his feet.
“I talked things out with her and you were right, she has feelings for me,” Kacchan whispers guiltily, “so I told her I can’t hang around her anymore. Not until she moves on, because my eyes will always be on someone else.”
My eyes will always be on you.
Izuku is full-out sobbing now. He doesn’t know what he’s grieving for. A small voice—that dark monster—screeches in the back of his head, that this is his fault. Because of him, Kacchan lost a friend. Because of him, Kacchan’s lying in this infirmary.
“I can’t imagine how shitty this must feel for you, Izuku. Having to pretend not to know me when I’m out there laughing with other people. I know it’s fucking horrible, I keep telling myself I’m doing this for you but—” Kacchan pauses here, biting back on a cry. Izuku is distraught and puzzled.
“When you ran to save me from the sludge villain, when I was kidnapped by the League,” and Izuku’s heart squeezes painfully at those memories, unearthing from the darkest parts of his brain, “all I could think was I could never let this happen to you. I could never let some villain out there use you as leverage over me. That’s why I asked to keep our relationship private. It’s too fucking dangerous.”
Safety. Kacchan’s always used that word, but Izuku never knew the explicit reasons behind it.
“And I’ve always thought I was protecting you. But if keeping you a secret means losing you, then I’d rather not. It’s fucking me up.”
“Kacchan…” Izuku keeps crying, “Kacchan…”
“I want you, Izuku. If you’ll have me. This time, I’ll do it right. I’ll shout your name to the world. I’ll tell them all you’re mine. Fuck— it’s just—” Kacchan is heaving, grasping at his chest, and Izuku knows that feeling all too well, when the pain morphs into something tangible underneath your sternum.
“It’s just— I don’t know who I am without you.”
With those words, Izuku lunges forward, closing the space between them, cradling Kacchan’s teary face in his hands. It’s too much, the brokenness in his voice is too much.
“Why me?” asks the green haired-boy.
“What do you mean?”
“Shimizu can stand next to you. She’s intelligent and beautiful and strong and I— I’m just me.”
Useless, quirkless me. A Deku.
“I did this to you, didn’t I?” Kacchan bristles, more angry tears pooling around his eyes. “I made you believe you were nothing because I was afraid of how you felt like everything to me.”
Izuku quickly wipes away the rivulets caught in Kacchan’s lashes, and the blonde leans into his palm.
“Kacchan, we’ve talked about this before. You know I already forgive you.”
“So why did you say that?” Kacchan rasps out another mangled sound. “God fucking damn it, Izuku. There are so many people out there. Behind me, beside me, in front of me. But you’re the only one I want to chase.”
“It’s so hard for me to believe it sometimes,” Izuku admits, “to think that I deserve you.”
“Well then, we’re just two boys who don’t think they deserve each other.”
The kiss is inevitable. Between the tears and vulnerabilities uttered to the air, their open mouths meet in the middle, breathing each other in like they’re starved of oxygen. Izuku still has Kacchan’s face cupped in his palms, and Kacchan curls his fingers around the backs of Izuku’s hands, needing to touch, to close every micro-space between their bodies.
The monster is still here. He feels it thud beneath his skin like a drum, but this time, it’s sleeping. Izuku’s finally growing into his flesh again, and Kacchan’s lips taste like home.
The blonde extricates himself from Izuku, exhaling loudly. There is so much love in his eyes, a deepened scarlet, and this look Izuku knows is exclusive to him. No one else has been on the receiving end of it, not even Shimizu.
“I fucking missed you.”
“I missed you too,” the green haired-boy breathes out, “I still do.”
“Will you let me make it up to you?”
“Okay.”
Izuku climbs into Kacchan’s bed, tucking into his side, head nestled onto his chest. And tomorrow, Kacchan will hold Izuku’s hand. Tomorrow, Izuku will sit with Kirishima and the others, and laugh in the open with them. Tomorrow, he’ll bump into Shimizu and grapple with feeling like a thorn in Kacchan’s side. Tomorrow, the monster may awaken, threatening to burst from his seams. But today, he will sleep here with Kacchan—their limbs entangled like contiguous rivers on a map—and eventually everything will be okay.