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Chapter Text

Katsuki was 7 years old when he punched Deku in the face in front of all of his friends. In hindsight he was surprised to find that he really wasn’t sure why he did it, all he knew was that he had an audience. Deku never had anyone in his corner, nobody to go to bat for him. Katsuki wasn’t sure what sick, insecure part of him had felt it necessary to step on others to get closer to the top. He still wasn’t sure why nobody stopped him. He wasn’t sure what kind of teacher would look onto blatant bullying and turn a blind eye. But Katsuki supposed that even if he had been checked once they entered middle school that he had already set into motion an unstoppable chain of events. He wouldn’t understand the gravity of his actions for a long time, much too self-absorbed to consider the consequences.

Izuku was 12 when he was outed to the entire school. He had confided in a counselor, who had let it slip to a student in their class. Katsuki was right there when they cast the first stone, hurled the first slur. It was something that struck Katsuki deep in his chest. Yet another feeling he wouldn’t understand for several years. Something had changed that day. His eyes unwittingly followed Izuku’s movements. He watched the way his fingers moved, the way he rolled his shoulders back in his seat, the lines of his back in the locker rooms. It made it hard to breathe, but more than anything it infuriated him. It was nothing but another distraction from his conquests, Deku had turned into his trial and temptation and he worked towards overcoming it with the same vicious single-mindedness that he applied to everything. He overcompensated, he took it too far, and before he knew it he was telling Midoriya Izuku to throw himself off the roof.

He thought about it later that night, when he was alone without the praises of others or the judgment-blurring acceptance he received during the daytime. His heart was a lot less forgiving of him than his ego. His conscience was even crueler. He thought about what he would do if Deku actually did it. He thought about how his mom always told him that a child is supposed to outlive their parents. He imagined a funeral and white roses and a stain on the concrete by the fountain. And somehow it still didn’t stop him. Not until he and Izuku lost contact, his mom didn’t even talk about it anymore. He wondered if his parents ever wondered how they raised such a shit kid.

Katsuki was nearing the end of his first year in the UA Hero Course when he started attending therapy. It was school-sanctioned of course; he would have never started by his own volition. There was something about being forced to get the help that took some weight off his chest.

It… helped. He learned some things, had some real earth-shattering epiphanies. At first it felt like getting flayed open but after about a month it felt like getting pieced back together. He wondered if he had ever been whole to begin with. He guessed that the answer was no, not since Deku left at least.

He felt off-brand during his appointments, and he hated it. He hated the openness and the sincerity in his weak ass voice but he considered it a stepping-stone, yet another trial in his efforts to become the best.

She pushed her wire-rimmed glasses up further on the bridge of her nose and waited for him while he struggled with his words.

“I’m gay, probably.”

She nodded and didn’t look the least bit surprised, which offended him for some reason, “Okay.”

He opened his mouth, and snapped it shut, and then opened it again, “I didn’t want to deal with shit like that but I’m not a fucking liar and I’m not a coward.”

She liked to let him work things out on his own, only adding her input when she felt it was absolutely necessary.

“You’ve grown a lot. I think it might be time to re-evaluate your past relationship with Freckles.” She referred to the stupid fucking code name that they had come up with for Izuku. He had no idea how often stupid Deku would come up in his appointments. He must have been more pivotal than he would have thought. For someone who had faced real villains and fought for his life, you would think that the resultant PTSD would be the most prevalent topic at hand.

But Izuku was at the core of his character, like the voice of his conscience. “What the fuck ever. There’s nothing else to ‘re-evaluate’.” He had thought about it maybe a little too much. Under his shell and within his walls he was still 14 and tucked safely within the closet.

She worked him through his sexuality, internalized homophobia, and all that. It was a concept he hadn’t heard before, but the conversation and the resultant peace with his sexual orientation couldn’t have come at a better time, or maybe it was worse. He couldn’t tell. All he knew was that during the fall semester, Izuku was transferred to the UA Support Department on a full scholarship. He wished he had some sort of heads up before seeing Deku again for the first time after nearly two years, looking like the essence of a lazy Sunday, smiling and surrounded with brand new, adoring friends. Radiant, annoyingly so.

“He’s like-“ Eijirou paused to swallow, “-a boy genius or something. I didn’t even know UA recruited high schoolers. I thought entry was an all-or-nothing sort of thing.”

Sero looked somewhat thoughtful for a minute, “I don’t really know much about the Support Department, to be honest. Other than Mei being a literal insane person.”

Iida, having become rather fond of said mechanic, chimed in from the kitchen, “The Support Department is more academically selective than the Hero Course. Midoriya transferred from Shiketsu on recommendation.”

“Have you met him yet, Bakubro?”

“No.”

Katsuki hadn’t even seen Roundface walk in, but she paused, “That’s weird. Izuku said he knew you back in middle school.”

Izuku, she had said so easily, as if she knew he mouthed the words to All Might movies and tried to pet every stray he met. Maybe she did, maybe she had taken the initiative to get to know him just like Katsuki never had. Something ached in his chest.

“Tch. You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” He stormed out the room without a glance back, with questions on the tip of his friend’s tongues.

***

Izuku and his stupid friends, unfortunately, enjoyed the neatly manicured lawn outside of the class 2-A dormitories. But he never stepped inside, and he never sought Katsuki out. Not once. If he didn’t know better, he would think that Deku didn’t even know he was there. This was a new feeling, being unacknowledged by Deku. Izuku had always acknowledged him in one way or another. Something about it made him want to crawl out his skin, he burned for the attention. Eyes on me, eyes on me, fuck, keep your stupid goddamn eyes on me.

From what Katsuki could see from a respectful distance, the last few years had been so incredibly kind to Deku. He was all broad shoulders and high cheekbones. Same freckles, different muscles though. What was he getting so goddamn bulked up for?

It was a little fitting that Katsuki burned for him so badly.

It was a long ass week. Fuck that. It was a long ass day; a long, mortifying, abomination of a day. And it was all because:

“Kachaan?”

Katsuki’s head whipped up from his lunch and he wheezed, “Hah?”

Izuku smiled and tilted his head, “I thought that was you, it’s good to see you again.”

Oh I bet the fuck you did you fucking vixen.

“Uhh-“

Denki cackled, “Well said.”

The panic-stricken look fell off Katsuki’s face and he smiled, “Come here Denki.”

“No dude, UGH what are you doing with your face? Why’s it look like that?”

Katsuki moved to stand up, “I just want to talk.”

Eijirou groaned loudly, “Come on, bro. Don’t disfigure Denki, you’re embarrassing us in front of Midoriya.”

Denki’s mouth stretched into a shit-eating grin, “Yeah Katsuki you’re being embarrassing.”

Shinsou sighed tiredly, “This is the third time this week.”

Katsuki slammed his fist on the table, “You Pikachu FUCK-“

Ashido gestured to an empty seat right beside her, “Sit down, babe. They’ll stop yelling eventually. “

Izuku glanced back at Katsuki, looking like he was on the verge of declining her offer, but settled for smiling graciously and lowering himself into the seat.

“So,” She propped her head up on her hands and looked over at him, “How are you liking UA.”

He hummed, “It’s been nice. Different, but nice.”

“So Shiketsu, huh? We met a few of those guys at the Hero License Exams.” Sero asked, having remained quiet for most of the ordeal.

Izuku smiled wide, “I know, I watched it! You guys were incredible.” Katsuki choked on his drink.

Kyoka sighed, “Hey, can you stop being a fucking diva for two seconds we’re trying to have a conversation.”

“Who in the FUCK-“

“Hey did I miss the memo?” Sero frowned, “Are we ganging up on Bakugou today?”

Katsuki wouldn’t have let it slide if he wasn’t so preoccupied with the thought that Izuku was there. And he watched him fight. Well maybe not him in particular but he was still in the stands. Watching him fight. “You were there?”

“I was in support at Shiketsu but I started doing quirk analysis for the class above, so I was invited to watch. I actually met Aizawa sensei there. Isn’t he your homeroom teacher?”

As if you don’t know, “So why the fuck did you come to UA then?”

“Bakugou that’s rude-“

Izuku didn’t look particularly phased, “Ms. Joke felt like my skill set would be better utilized here since UA’s support course is just as renowned as the hero course.”

“So how did quirk analysis turn into mechanics?” Ashido asked.

“Oh, I actually did both. The quirk analysis was like… an extracurricular of sorts.”

Mina sighed, “Pretty and smart.”

Izuku snorted at that, whereas Katsuki would have assumed he would blush and stutter like an idiot. The two options were that either than he was used to such compliments or he simply didn’t believe her, and Katsuki had a problem with both of them.

Izuku glanced over his shoulder just his gaggle of idiot friends wondered into the lunchroom, “Oh, looks like they’re here.” He cast a somewhat apologetic look to the group, hardly even looking at Katsuki, “It was nice meeting you guys!”

As he left, Katsuki’s entire table of stupid friends looked enchanted with stupid Deku.

“Ugh! Stop staring you pathetic assholes.” He grumbled.

Kyoka leveled him with a characteristic cold stare, “YOU’RE the one staring, you useless gay.”

Katsuki seethed, “Shut up, dickhead. What’s there to even stare at anways…“

“Usually I’d go to bat for you Kats but Midoriya is like… stupid pretty.” Eijirou commented and Ashido cooed in response.

“He’s like a little prince. I want to squeeze him.”

“Uraraka said he specializes in heavy equipment. Sounds right up your alley, Bakubro I don’t know how he’s not working on your stuff.”

Oh, I’d let him work on my stuff-

“Does it fucking look like I know, Shitty Hair?” He grumbled.

Eijirou smirked, “No it’s fine. I get it.”

“You don’t get shit.”

“No, no, I’m pretty sure I get it.” His smug face only got smugger and Katsuki reached across the table to put a dent in it.

And maybe if he was paying attention, he would have seen a pair of pretty “animated by Pixar” green eyes honed in on him, still calculating.

***

Here’s a sentence that Katsuki never thought he would say, much less out loud to other human beings: “If one more raggedy, ugly ass extra flirts with stupid Deku I’m going to explode my own head.”

Ashido, the villainous bitch, outright cackled. “Let- Let me get this straight.” She paused to get her wits about her, “You’re too good to make a move, but nobody else is allowed to either?”

“That’s- NO! It just fucking grosses me out. He’s Deku, he's a dweeb.”

“Yeah maybe when he was like twelve Katsuki. Now he’s Midoriya Izuku: teenage heartthrob.” Katsuki rolled his eyes but she powered on, “He’s like… okay you know that old meme? That was like ‘I’ll have your daughter home by eight’ and ‘Your daughter calls me daddy too’? Well he’s somehow both.”

“You’re a fucking disgrace.”

“Katsuki. I read an article once that called him a ‘visionary’. When’s the last time you met a 17-year-old visionary who looked like that.”

“Visionary.” He mocked.

Eijirou looked up from his textbook, “I don’t know bro. I know you’ve got this whole tsundere thing going on but you should try talking to him sometime, he’s pretty cool.”

“Deku’s not cool.”

Ashido threw up her hands, “I really don’t know what your problem is-“

“You wanna know what my fucking problem is?” His heart pounded, and a very large part of him sincerely didn’t want to dig any skeletons out of his closet, “I was a fucking asshole kid. I was a dick and I said some stupid shit and honestly, fucking honestly, if roles were reversed I wouldn’t want to talk to me either.”

He didn’t even give them the time to respond. He didn’t necessarily want anyone to make him feel better; he wanted to feel like shit about it. The door slammed behind him with an air of finality. He wondered if that was the end of that.

***

Never in his life would he admit it out loud, but Bakugou Katsuki was a weak puddle of a man. He literally couldn’t refuse Izuku anything.

He was sitting across from him, tapping his pencil thoughtfully on the sketch he was making. His workshop was cluttered, but somehow also incredibly organized. Izuku must have gadgets coming out his goddamn ass on the daily.

“So what I’m thinking is,” Deku rolled his sleeves up, “To be super blunt? Your gauntlets are too heavy, you’re going to tear a fucking ligament.”

Katsuki had been decently surprised the first time he had heard goody two shoes Midoriya Izuku curse, but it was actually a pretty frequent occurrence, especially when he was somewhat stressed and frazzled like this. There was something weirdly charming about Deku when he was snappy, and boy was he snappy.

“Anyways,” Deku reached for a gauntlet and spun it around in his hands thoughtfully, “We need to come up with a more streamlined design without sacrificing the overall firepower of your gauntlets.”

It was late, unbearably late, like 3:00 in the morning kind of late. But Katsuki had begrudgingly been hurting more than usual and his summer internship was coming up sooner rather than later. Thus why he was slumped in Deku’s workshop during the fucking witching hours. “We? Or you’re just going to peer pressure me into doing whatever the fuck you want.” Katsuki grouched.

“You know that I always consider your input. I take my job seriously, Katsuki.”

That was another thing; Deku had taken to calling him by his first name more than ever. He occasionally ditched the cutesy “Kachaan” to create an air of professionalism, but all it ended up doing was disrupting Katsuki’s resting heart rate.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“Maybe I should add lead weights to these instead-“

“Oi! Who the fuck do you think you are?”

Izuku leaned over the workbench menacingly and jabbed his finger in Katsuki’s chest, “I’m the only thing standing between you and shoulder surgery, so keep your voice down or so help me God, Bakugou Katsuki, I will personally install a doomsday button on your suit.”

Something about sweet Deku leaning over a workbench to threaten his life had his wires crossed all wrong. Kiss me, kiss me, kiss-

“Take it easy, Deku, no need to bite.”

Izuku got back to work toying with the gauntlets with a small frown on his face, “I don’t bite, Kachaan. I’m not feral.”

“Mmm, that seems pointed.” Katsuki fixed him with another cocky smirk and Deku tried valiantly to hide his own smile.

Katsuki lived for the back and forth. They had surprising chemistry. Had it always been this easy? Or were they barely figuring out how to be friends? Friends. Katsuki spat the word in his mind like it was poison. Izuku for some fucking reason considered him a friend, even after everything. He really was an asshole, wasn’t he? But some things had changed. It was terrifying how much you can want from a person when you don’t deserve any of it.

A shuddering sigh broke Katsuki from his thoughts and his mind refocused on a weary-looking Deku.

“You look dead on your fucking feet.”

Izuku looked offended, “What are you saying?”

Katsuki scoffed, “I’m saying go the fuck to bed. You’re tired.”

He ran a hand over his face, “Katsuki, this needs to be- hey cut it out!”

Katsuki snatched his wrist and started dragging him to the door, turning off lights as they went, “Sleep first, gauntlets later.”

He let go of Izuku’s wrist once they were out the door, but made the grave mistake of turning towards him, where he could see him a little too closely. It would have been easy to tilt his chin up, brush their lips together, and taste him. It would also be easy for Izuku to knee him in the fucking balls like he deserved. Katsuki opted for a much safer option: dismissal.

“Goodnight, nerd.” He mumbled.

“Goodnight, Kachaan.”

***

Three civilians dead, and then there was Katsuki, too weak to save any of them. What the fuck kind of hero was he supposed to be? He could have been faster, he could have been more efficient. All he could think of now was the smoke and the fire and the mind-shattering sound of an entire building being reduced to rubble. He had dug through it until his hands bled yet still there were three innocent people crushed to death by the literal weight of his incompetency. The worst tragedies are the ones that could have been avoided.

He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his bandaged hands. There would be a minimal amount of scarring from his injuries after Recovery Girls healing. He would have some scrapes, while others lost their lives. Pathetic.

He could still smell the dirt and smoke, but that was probably because he hadn’t bothered to change back out of his hero uniform. In some twisted way, the discomfort of remaining in his suit felt like paying a small bit of penance. He needed to change his bandages and his hands, not to mention the wrappings from the puncture wound on his side, and he no doubt needed to sleep off the post-healing drowsiness. But he was feeling both restless and completely stationary at the same time. It was the first time he witnessed multiple fatalities as a young hero, and he doubted he would ever forget the feeling.

Nobody had come to bother him about it. Uraraka had tried when he first walked in, but Eijirou put out an arm to stop her. There were some things he just needed to process alone.

A shadow moved to block some of the light filtering under his door and he heard a soft knock. Or not.

If you had told him a few years ago that he would be so utterly relieved to see Deku at his door, then he would have probably shoved a nitro-soaked hand in your face. But there he was, in a pair of sweats and a threadbare T-shirt. He said nothing as he placed his palm on Katsuki’s chest and pushed them into the room. Katsuki followed Izuku’s ministrations like a puppet. God knows Katsuki had dreamed about getting undressed by Izuku for months before this, but there was nothing sexual about Izuku peeling his clothes off here. Yet it was still incredibly intimate. Any other day, Katsuki would gnash his teeth at the gentle aid he was receiving, but right now he felt nothing, no threat to his pride and no reason to prove himself. It was odd.

He sat shirtless on the edge of the bed after pulling a worn and comfortable pair of sweats. Izuku stood in front of him, expertly rewrapping his hands before moving to replace the bandages around his middle. He could feel the warmth of Izuku’s body, and the brush of nimble fingers. There was an unspoken agreement that Izuku would be staying the night as they slipped under the covers, and Katsuki would never admit aloud that he was grateful for it.

When Izuku put his head on his chest, he knew there was no way that he didn’t hear Katsuki’s heart raced. For some reason, he hoped that Izuku understood just so he wouldn’t have to say it out loud.

“You don’t have to respond to this, but I think you’re the bravest person I’ve ever met. And you’ll always be my hero.”

He wanted so bad to believe that was true, Izuku was no liar but he was also too nice, and much too forgiving of a person like him. If he shed a few tears after Izuku’s breathing had evened out, then that was between him and the ceiling fan.

***

“Ew, EW KATSUKI, NO! Get that away from me!” Izuku shrieked, darting across the room.

Katuki cackled, taunting him with one of Mineta’s repulsive sticky balls that had been skewered with a stick, “Come on, Deku. Do it for science-“

“NO, Kachaan you’re awful.”

“Would someone awful do… this?” He jabbed the stick outwards, missing Deku’s arm by mere inches.

“Ugh, yes!” The stick clattered to the ground and Katsuki invaded Deku’s space unintentionally. They were close. Close, close. Close enough to taste.

“Hey.” Katsuki said.

Deku breathed out, “Hey.”

“You should come to the dorm tonight. My shitty friends are throwing a party and I need someone tolerable.”

Izuku smirked, “Tolerable? Stop, you’re going to make me blush.”

“So is that a yes or…”

“Yeah, I’ll be there.”

Katsuki licked his lips, “Great.”

***

Katsuki and his idiot friends were a solid thirty minutes late to said party, which was strange considering that they were the ones throwing it. If you asked Katsuki, he would say they were late because stupid Ashido insisted they all showed up together like some sort of shitty clique, while it took her three thousand years to wing her goddamn eyeliner. But if you asked Ashido, she would say that Katsuki had a twenty-minute gay crisis where he worried about what he would wear for the first time in his life.

“Katsuki. They are the same belt.” Eijirou observed.

Denki looked over his shoulder, “Yeah man, same belt.”

“This one,” He shook it in their faces, “HAS THREADED BORDERS. While this one,” He shook the other hand, “DOES. NOT.”

Just then, Mina flounced in along with a cloud of vanilla-scented whatever the fuck. She stopped and examined the belts in his hands, “That one babes, threaded borders are for people who don’t put on both socks before putting on their shoes.”

“Exactly.” He hissed.

She took a step back, “Ohhh Katsu! Look at you, who you tryna impress?”

“Shut up.”

Denki cupped his hands around his mouth, “Get your MANS, Blasty!”

“SHUT UP.”

Ashido sniffed, “Is that… cologne?”

“You dirty dog,” Sero mumbled.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

***

Midoriya Izuku drank like a motherfucker, not to mention he also metabolized it like a motherfucker. Over the course of a few hours Katsuki was sure that he had watched the other boy cycle between inebriation and sobriety multiple times. He threw back shots like water, it was kind of impressive. Drunk Deku was a force to be reckoned with. He had a smart fucking mouth, more than usual, and he matched Katsuki’s shit-talking like no other. The other partygoers must have been somewhat horrified seeing Bakugou Katsuki had finally met his match in chaotic energy. There might as well have been nobody else but the two of them, Katsuki thought to himself as he watched liquor drip down the column of Izuku’s throat as he tipped back another shot. 

He heard murmuring from the other side of the kitchen and ripped his gaze away from Deku to see Mina pull out a bottle of tequila and grin like a devil, “Body shots, anyone?”

Deku gasped and jerked Katsuki forward, “US!”

“The fuck?!”

Izuku quirked an eyebrow with alluring confidence, “Yes us, unless you’re some kind of… bitch.”

The crowd was a chorus of ‘Ooohs’ and ‘Oh shit’s and one ‘I’m scared’ and Katsuki stepped very, very close, “Then get me a lime, Deku.”

Someone pulled a chair into the middle of the kitchen and Katsuki leaned back in it, desperately clinging to a relaxed demeanor even though he was 99% sure he was about to pop a boner in front of 30 people at the hands of the object of his affections. He placed the lime wedge between his teeth and lifted his shirt so Ashido could pour a small line of salt down his stomach. Izuku crouched between Katsuki’s spread knees, holding a shot glass of tequila and a slight blush. Katsuki clenched his fists to fight the urge to roll his eyes back into his head when Izuku’s tongue dragged up his abdomen. His heart pounded as the other boy threw back the shot and leaned over to retrieve the lime wedge from between Katsuki’s teeth. Izuku’s warm breath ghosted over his face, smelling like tequila and whatever sugary shit he had been sipping on. But his sweet, wet lips were a hairs width away, and Katsuki gripped the armrests with white knuckles.

Izuku pulled away and there was cheering and wolf whistles, but it all sounded clouded and distant. Katsuki could feel his heart pounding and the heat building underneath his skin.

“Well, well, well, Izuku. What would your mother say?” Katsuki murmured, and he wasn’t sure if it was the liquor or his imagination, but he could have sworn he saw Izuku shiver.

Izuku wandered off, but it wasn’t long until he found Katsuki where he was sitting on the couch, and by then the party had started to wind down.

Deku grabbed his wrist and tugged, “Bedtime.”

Katsuki raised an eyebrow and Deku pulled harder, “Bed. Time.”

“Are you staying with me?”

Izuku rubbed his eyes, “Yup.”

“Whatever, just don’t puke in my bed.”

Deku snorted, “What do I look like, an amateur?” But his words lost all credibility when they were a little bit slurred.

Somehow, whether by their own stealth or by the mysterious workings of Ashido Mina, they got out of the common area and up to Katsuki’s room without incident aside from the fact that at this point Katsuki was practically carrying Izuku. He figured that all those shots must have finally caught up to him.

As he dug through his dressers for something for Izuku to wear, he considered that the last time they slept in the same bed was after the incident at his internship. These were two vastly different scenarios.

Izuku was already half-naked when he turned around and Katsuki stuttered before tossing the clothes at his face, “Put this on.”

Izuku pouted and Katsuki ached, “Put your clothes on, Deku.”

“You do body shots off a guy one time and then it’s like ‘Don’t throw up in my bed, Deku’, ‘Don’t take your clothes off, Deku.” He mumbled.

Katsuki wasn’t quite sure what it was. Maybe it was the liquid courage, or the mouth-watering sight of Katsuki’s too-big sweats sitting low on Izuku’s slim waist, or the tiny self-deprecating smile on his face giving away his nerves, but Katsuki invaded Izuku’s space for the umpteenth time that night.

They were almost chest-to-chest when Katsuki gripped his chin and forced their eyes to meet, “I’m only going to say this once so listen closely.” Izuku gulped at his words but remained silent, “The only reason I’m not absolutely fucking ravishing you right now is because we’ve both been drinking, and I want you dead sober when I take you apart. You have no idea-“ Katsuki’s breath hitched and their lips were once again just a hairs width apart, “-what I want to do to you, Izuku.”

There was a tiny moment when Katsuki was afraid it would all go out the window. When he considered that Izuku had him eating out of the palm of his hand and Katsuki would do literally anything he asked him to at this moment. He wondered if Deku knew how much power he had over the situation. But Izuku was, at his core, a reasonable person with a steady head on his shoulders. He was incredibly competent in a way that Katsuki didn’t acknowledge enough. Deku wouldn’t push it, and he wouldn’t rush things.

He just smiled, like an absolute fucking angel with those dimples, “Okay Kachaan.”

Chapter Text

“Pro-Hero Pyroclastic Caught Red-Handed During Gay Rendezvous With Mystery Man”

It was all over the news, around every corner, and smeared across every tabloid. It was the most pathetic of controversies but the people ate it up.

“My mom said his career is gonna tank,” Matu commented with a low whistle from across the desk isle, gazing critically down at his own copy of the latest magazine.

“Why?”

“Bakugou’s right. You are a stupid Deku. Can’t you read?”

“I… Yes. Why is his career going to tank?”

Matu rolled his eyes as if the answer was obvious, “She said nobody wants to get saved by a guy like that. It just ruins it. If All Might was like that he wouldn’t be All Might anymore, he would just be some sissy.”

“I think he’d still be All Might…”

He cackled, “What? Are you a sissy too, Deku? Hey Bakugou, Deku said he’s a little sissy!” Matu was the cruelest member of Kachaan’s new group of friends, with crooked teeth and an oddly shaped head and a stomach-churning penchant for violence, and with age, his bullying became more tactile: more malicious.

“I just don’t- I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it.” Izuku wasn’t sure why he couldn’t just shut up; he always just made things worse for himself.

“You really are a sissy, huh?” His voice was lower this time, scarier. There was something about the steeliness in his eyes that spoke of consequences. Izuku felt a pang deep in his gut, the kind of fear that makes your hands clammy and your throat dry. It was times like these when he wished he still had Kachaan.

The guidance counselor was a short, round woman, with bright nails and red lipstick that always got stuck in her teeth. She was old, with wrinkles that ran deep into her jowls like canyons and liver spots on the back of her hands.

She peered at Izuku over the desk, smiling with her red-tinted teeth. “Do you know why I called you in here Izuku?” Izuku didn’t like the way she said his name.

He shook his head, his fingers felt cold.

She gave him a simpering look, full of false empathy that made him recoil a little in his chair, “One of your classmates is expressing some concern for you.” She started.

This gave Izuku pause. Concern? He couldn’t really name any classmates that he thought would express concern about him.

“He said you’re having some issues with your sexuality?”

Izuku swore, he swore to God he hadn’t told anybody about that. He didn’t even tell his mom. He didn’t even write it down. He didn’t even tell Kachaan. It was a secret, it was supposed to be a secret: something he could figure out in his own time.

“I… What? No. No, it’s not like that I swear!” He felt tears prick his eyes.

The counselor frowned, “Watch your tone with me, young man.”

“I’m sorry.”

She sighed, “I assume you know how this must make the other boys feel, right Izuku?”

“The other- The other boys?”

“In the changing room, you must know how it might make them uncomfortable, right?”

“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Izuku’s eyes started to burn with tears again.

There was no smile now, only deep divots in her cheeks when she frowned at him critically, “This is your warning to keep your eyes to yourself, young man. It’s my job to make sure all the students feel safe in their environment. Do you want to make my job easier or harder?”

Izuku swallowed thickly, “Easier.”

The smile was back; this time with a sense of victory as if she felt like she had achieved something. She looked pleased with herself.

“Good. You’re a smart boy, Izuku. Just keep your head on straight. You’re excused.”

Class the next day was hell, as well as the next day, and the next week, and the next month. Until he almost couldn’t remember a time where he didn’t have “faggot” scribbled across him gym locker in permanent marker. It made him miss being called Deku. Kachaan wouldn’t even talk to him anymore, he wouldn’t even come close as if he was disgusted by the simple proximity.

It didn’t take Izuku long to figure out that the “concerned classmate” was actually Matu. It also didn’t take long for the entire class to find out about what had happened, and what had been said.

On the last day of middle school, Matu had made the most of what little time he had left to heckle Izuku, “Quirkless and gay? God must hate you or somethin’,” He guffawed, “Right Bakugou?”

Kachaan slammed his book shut with a clap, loud enough to quiet the room, before stalking out of the door. There was an air of finality to it, and Izuku supposed that wasn’t far from the truth. They wouldn’t be attending the same high school. Kachaan was finally rid of Izuku forever. As he watched his retreating back, for the first time in his life he didn’t follow.

***

Aizawa-Sensei was slouched down on the bench beside him, “I’m going to be completely honest, kid. UA has a tendency to chew kids up and spit them out. If you have any doubts you should save us the trouble and decline the offer.”

Izuku was used to this: the doubt and the skepticism. It was like a prerequisite to being quirkless. Still, it took a certain amount of confidence to mark yourself as a contender when you’re weaponless. Still, something told him that his quirklessness played no part in Aizawa’s warning.

Izuku looked across the stadium, “With all due respect sir. I can handle anything your school can throw at me.” And he meant it.

Aizawa looked thoughtful, “The hero world is changing, and the villain world is changing with it. We need grit and strength, but we also need planners and thinkers. We can only have the best of the best backing up those meatheads.” Aizawa made a general gesture out towards what Izuku assumed was his class. The hero department. The current Class 1-A. Kachaan. Something about it steeled his resolve.

“I accept your offer. I’d love to be a part of UA Support.

***

Izuku’s game plan was, and had been for a while; avoid Bakugou Katsuki at all costs. But this time it was more for the sake of his sanity than his safety. Izuku wasn’t quite sure he could handle the angst and confusion of coming face to face with Kachaan after so much time. Especially on the UA campus.

So yes, avoid Bakugou Katsuki but still begin taking charge of Class 1-A’s support equipment, which should have been completely impossible but at the same time… wasn’t. Izuku’s new group of friends was much different from Katsuki’s, and he never really stopped by to re-introduce himself. Izuku was liberated temporarily of coming into actual contact with him but that didn’t mean he didn’t see him fucking everywhere. I was like Katsuki could be two places at once.

“We’ll have to introduce you to everyone sometime! Maybe you can come by Height’s Alliance.” Ochako suggested cheerfully. It wasn’t the first time that she had suggested that he visit the Class 2A dorms.

Izuku gave her a tight smile, “Maybe.”

“Oh, they’ll love you! It’ll be fun. Everyone in our class is pretty nice. Except Bakugou, he’s just the kind of person you might have to meet… organically, you know? I mean he’s better than he was BUT he’s still… kind of an ass.”

Izuku wasn’t sure why he couldn’t just leave well enough alone. He could have easily let her continue to talk up the class and pretended like they were all perfect strangers but of course, he had to open up his big, fat- “I uh- I actually grew up with Katsuki.” He hoped he looked sheepish enough that she wouldn’t pry.

Ochako stopped walking completely, “You know Bakugou.”

“Well I mean I wouldn’t say I know him. I’m sure he’s changed a lot since we were kids. Anyways,” Izuku scuffed his toe on the ground, “We never got along much anyways.”

“But still! You knew him when he was a kid, I need all of the dirt. Any embarrassing stories? Cutsie nicknames?”

As if summoned by the utterance of his name, Katsuki walked out of the adjacent building, sunlight turning his hair to liquid platinum. Still taller and armed with a scowl, painfully handsome, and completely unattainable. “Nope.” He answered, Ochako with a smile, “Nothing.”

***

Izuku was actually having quite a good day. He woke up five minutes before his alarm feeling oddly refreshed. He wasn’t rushed getting ready and actually had time for a decent breakfast before he went to class. The sun was out and the air was warm but not too warm. He dropped his keys on the way to homeroom and a very nice girl picked them up and returned them to him. He had lunch with Hitoshi and Kaminari, which was a rare albeit very enjoyable occurrence. He was feeling particularly motivated to organize, so with his spare time near the end of the day, he cleaned his workstation and made a neat and very organized to-do list on his whiteboard.

It was actually serene, peaceful, dare he say tranqu-

“I WILL NEVER-“ Mei Hatsume stormed through the door, practically steaming and clutching a large stack of papers to her chest, she aimed a kick at a nearby box of scraps, “-WORK WITH THAT UNGRATEFUL-“ Kick, “-RUDE-“ Kick, “-BARBARIAN OF A MAN EVER-“ Kick, kick, “-AGAIN!”

Izuku blinked at her owlishly, he couldn’t imagine what kind of person could rile Mei up to that point of abusing innocent scrap metal. She might have been a little strange but she usually wasn’t the type to fly off the handle. Her hair was a mess from her tantrum and her eyes were slightly crazed and twitching.

In fact, her unnecessary screaming and lavish insults kind of reminded Izuku of a young-

“Bakugou Katsuki,” Mei hissed, and shoved the file into Izuku’s hands and pointed a finger at his chest, “Is your problem now.” And just as soon as she came, she left, leaving the room and Izuku in complete disarray like a tiny human tornado.

Izuku was having quite a bad day.

***

“You’re staring,” Shouto commented evenly.

“I’m n- I’m not doing that. I’m not staring at Katsuki I was just thinking-“

“Oh, I don’t think I said anything about Bakugou.”

Izuku’s cheeks warmed considerably and he cast a forlorn glance at his friend, “You’re a terror. Nobody gives you enough credit for it, but you’re a terrible boy.”

 Shouto barely blinked, “Words can hurt, Izuku.”

Ochako squished her cheek against her fist, “I guess he is kind of handsome in a ‘Tattoo Parlor-Flower Shop AU’ kind of way.”

Izuku hissed, “How can you just say those things? Out loud?”

Even Tenya was looking now with a thoughtful expression, “I can’t say I’ve ever given consideration to Bakugou’s physical attributes beyond his capabilities as a hero but I suppose he has an… alluring aesthetic?”

Shouto and Ochako both hummed in agreement and Izuku groaned, “Stop. Stop this. It’s just that Katsuki pissed off Mei enough that she dumped his stuff on me and now I have to figure out how to have a productive conversation with that.” He gestured broadly in Kachaan’s direction, where he was practically strangling Kaminari with his own tie.

The table fell into thoughtful silence for a moment before Ochako gasped and snapped her fingers, “I got it! Mechanic and Angry Customer AU!”

Shouto nodded seriously while Izuku groaned and let his head fall onto the table, “It’s a good start. What kind of tropes are we thinking?”

“Ooh, I love a enemies to lovers trope.”

Izuku banged his forehead on the table again.

***

Izuku rubbed his temples, hard, “What did you do to Mei?”

“What did I do to her? What did she do to me? She tries to fucking steamroll my designs!” Katsuki was sitting across from him, arms crossed and about three seconds from completely blowing his top.

“She’s good at what she does-“

“SO AM I!” He growled, and okay, yes Katsuki had a good point. Mei definitely had her own way of doing things. And yes she had a tendency to experiment and take the reins. Izuku could see how someone like Katsuki, who was very specific about what he wanted, wouldn’t mesh well with someone like Mei.

Izuku took a deep breath through his nose and pressed the heal of his palms into the table, “Okay… okay, I see where you’re coming from.” But then again, who was to say that Katsuki would work any better with Izuku? Historically speaking, a partnership between the two was probably bound to go up in flames… literally. He wasn’t sure how more people weren’t concerned about this. “So… what do you want?”

“Hah?”

“What do you want to be done to your equipment?”

Katsuki mumbled something and Izuku leaned closer, “What?”

“I said fucking shock absorption. In my shoes. My goddamn feet hurt from the landing and I’m going to fuck up my knees. But that crazy bitch wanted to put like rocket boosters of some shit and I told her to fuck herself.”

Izuku cringed inwardly but nodded. There was certainly a way to go about it, he would have to sit somewhere between advising Kachaan and staying out of his hair. He still wasn’t sure how this wasn’t going to turn into a complete disaster but Kachaan had been relatively cooperative so far. “Okay great, give me 24 hours. Shock absorption might create impact recoil but what I can do is give you sports orthotics inserts. They’ll have to be replaced every once in a while but it’s cheaper than knee surgery.”

He might have been imagining it, but Katsuki almost looked pleased, “See you tomorrow then, Deku.”

“Yeah,” Izuku smiled, “See you.”

***

Ochako looked slightly appalled, “Do you- do you think he’s doing that on purpose?” she whispered to Shouto, who had a single neatly manicured eyebrow raised.

“Probably. Bakugou never struck me as a voyeur, though.”

Tenya looked slightly peeved, “I really don’t condone public indecency but I can’t tell if he’s doing anything wrong.”

Ochako shrugged, “Well, put 20 teenagers with ridiculous bodies in a class together and this is what you- oh no he broke Izuku.”

Izuku’s brain was in the middle of a full reset, as were all of his biological functions. He had been innocently enjoying his lunch on this fine Saturday afternoon on the cool grassy field in front of the Heights Alliance dorms when suddenly Bakugou fucking Katsuki was peeling off his sweaty T-shirt in such a way that made some avert their eyes, while others couldn’t seem to stop looking.

“Izuku, honey, don’t go towards the light.” Ochako wiped a fake tear and shook his limp arm, “Mommy and daddy miss you so much.”

Shouto looked over, “Am I mommy?”

“No Sho, you’re like the estranged cousin.”

“Seems a little rude…”

“I- I’ve never seen… abs like that. What is his workout routine? A virginal sacrifice?” He murmured.

“Oh, abs-shmabs. You’ve got abs, Sho’s got abs, even Tenya’s got abs.”

“What do you mean ‘even’?”

“Sometimes you give off dad-bod vibes,” Shouto whispered conspiratorially

“I feel like he’s posturing. This is a show of dominance and we need a victor. Izuku take off your shirt.” Ochako demanded.

“Wha- NO! In front of that? Absolutely not. Oh my god, he’s coming over here. This is your fault. You summoned him.”

“Deku.” He rumbled, sweet Jesus fucking-

“Kachaan.”

“I have some ideas and shit that I want to run by you, you free later?”

“Uhh… yes! Yup, I’m free. Yeah.”

“Great.” Katsuki cast him a cocky smirk and then gave his friends a bored inclination of his head, “Extras.”

Shouto made a deadpan solute in acknowledgment, “Asshole.” And Katsuki scowled before stalking away.

Ochako gasped once he was (hopefully) out of earshot, “Bakugou just asked you out. Right here. Right in front of my lunch.”

Izuku snorted, “No, no he did not. He is my client. He wants to talk shop.”

“He could have asked you literally any time. He could have just casually dropped by. He came over here half-naked to ask for alone time. He wants to do something on that workbench and it’s definitely not school-sanctioned.”

“I don’t like the implications of that,” Tenya mumbled.

“It’s not like that. Just friends… Bro time.”

Ochako gagged, “Ugh that’s the straightest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

Izuku grimaced, “I know, it was hard to get out.”

“This situation is reading like ‘slow burn’ ‘friends to lovers’,” Shouto commented nonchalantly.

Izuku choked an Ochako patted his back, “I completely agree.”

Katsuki, the same boy who used to sneer at him in class, brought homemade bentos to Izuku’s workshop later that night. At one point in their lives, they couldn’t be in the same room without conflict, now they were eating side by side on a quiet Saturday night.

“This is fantastic! Kachaan, where’d you learn to cook like this?”

He rolled his eyes but there was an endearing dusting of pink on the apples of his cheeks, “Don’t make a big deal out of it, the hag taught me a while ago and I make a habit of it because it’s-“ He gave a tense pause and then gritted out, “Cathartic.”

Izuku hummed and took another bite, “Cathartic, huh?”

“Yeah, I uh…” His knuckles turned white from his grip on the table, “I started going to therapy a little while ago and she said I needed a ‘creative outlet’ or whatever. It’s not- It’s not completely shit.”

Izuku felt a little, unwarranted, bubble of affection rise up in his chest, “I’m glad to hear that, opening up is difficult.”

“Yeah, yeah whatever.”

“Me too, by the way.”

“What?”

He put his chopsticks down and toyed with the hem of his T-shirt, “Me too, about the therapy thing.” He paused, wondering if Katsuki really needed or wanted to know, “When I started at Shiketsu there was this guy. He had a big problem with me for whatever reason, I don’t know.” Izuku could name a couple of reasons why that boy probably didn’t like him, and judging by Kachaan’s flinch, so could he. “Anyways, he attacked me after class one day and I ended up in the hospital for a while. The school expelled him and everything but they sent me to therapy to like… cope? I guess. I just kept going after that.”

Katsuki’s jaw was clenched, “Give me a fucking name, Deku, I swear to god-“

Izuku just smiled, “No, no. Besides, death by explosion is too cool for someone like that, don’t you think?”

The air was suddenly thick with things unsaid, “You shouldn’t even want to be in the same room as me, Izuku.”

His head snapped up at the use of his name, “What?”

“I’m literally no better than that fuck, how can you even look at me?”

Izuku wasn’t sure how to react, mostly because he never thought that this day would come. When he had gotten accepted to Shiketsu High he had figured that the extent of his relationship with Kachaan would be occasionally watching him on T.V. He mourned the loss of contact, but he had eventually made peace with it. The truth was that kids said dumb things, and sometimes the responsible adults didn’t behave like responsible adults. Katsuki was so mean, so mean. But in hindsight, Izuku was incredibly sad for young Kachaan. The fact of the matter was that Izuku preferred his loneliness to Katsuki’s fair-weather friends. At least when people hung around Izuku back then he knew they were there for him, while Katsuki’s ‘friends’ were only attracted to power. When push came to shove, Katsuki was almost as alone as Izuku.

“I forgave you a long time ago, Kachaan.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have.” His eyes were intense, glittering rubies under the dim yellow bulbs above.

“You don’t get to decide that.”

Izuku wasn’t sure when they had gotten so close but he could see the ring around Kachaan’s irises, “Have some self-preservation, for fuck's sake Deku.” They hadn’t talked in hushed tones like this for a long time.

“Never have, won't start now.” He breathed, wary of breaking whatever spell had settled over the room.

“You drive me fucking nuts.”

“Some things never change.”

“No.” He murmured, “I think things change all the damn time.”

***

There were cheers, and whoops, and hollers, and he could hear his friends losing their minds somewhere in the crowd, but honestly all he could think of as he dragged his tongue languidly up the ridges of Katuki’s abdomen was that he didn’t know a person could taste that good. His rational brain suggested that there were less inherently sexual ways to do this, but under the sanctity of his inebriation, Izuku pondered sucking the remaining salt off and leaving a complimentary blemish on the otherwise flawless canvas of Katsuki’s abs.

Contrary to popular belief, Izuku had partaken in the Shiketsu party life. On an even wilder note, this wasn’t even his first body shot. Camie, who had once gotten him out of as much trouble as she had gotten him into, had dragged him along to nearly every secret “get together” with the spiked punch and the horny teenagers. They had an interesting repertoire, one that can only be found between a closeted lesbian and her beard. She really sold it though, with the body shots and the flirting. Regardless, Izuku was usually the one in the chair, and tonight he was shamelessly taking a page out of her book for the sake of technique. Izuku was nothing if not a fast learner. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Katuki’s grip tighten on the armrest, fingers curling into the cushion, like talons. He sort of wished that those hands were in Izuku’s hair, tangled and gripping tightly.

Izuku barely felt the shot of tequila, save for a distinct burning traveling down to his belly, but he couldn’t quite separate the feel of the alcohol from the tingle of arousal, and there was a dizzy, twisted moment of missing time where he had apparently risen enough to lean over Kachaan’s waiting mouth. It was funny, Katsuki’s was the one with his clothes rumpled yet Izuku was sure that he himself looked far more debauched.

The world spun a little and the tartness of the lime grounded him back to the earth. He could feel the pressure of the crowd around him but his focus was tethered to Katsuki’s unfairly charming smirk.

“Well, well, well, Izuku.” His eyes were blown out wide and dark, like the lion poised over the lamb, “What would your mother say?”

***

Izuku, against all odds, really didn’t have that many regrets. He felt as if he could usually see the merit in embarrassing or uncomfortable situations. But not this one. He was still trying to put a positive spin on nearly drunkenly throwing himself at his childhood friend. And Katsuki’s rejection, the things he said, only served to confuse and frustrate him more.

You have no idea what I want to do to you, Izuku.

The words haunted him. The sound of his own name practically dripping off of Katsuki’s tongue like that had him waking up in a feverish sweat nearly every night, achingly hard and somewhat ashamed as he quickly brought himself over the edge with the glide of his fist. It was embarrassing. All Katsuki had to do was exist to get up underneath Izuku’s skin, burning him up from the inside out.

There was no way that Bakugou fucking Katsuki stepped chest to chest with Izuku and spoke of desire and want. Part of Izuku wanted to think of it as a post-drunken haze of horniness; maybe he would have said that to any warm body that was in his room. The thought made Izuku’s stomach twist uneasily.

But Kachaan was honest to a fault and incredibly blunt. He may be brash and rude but he wasn’t a liar. After all, that’s what Izuku liked so much about him in the first place. With Katsuki you always knew what you were getting as if he kept his intentions in a glass box. If he were there to win, he would say so. If he were bored he would say so. If he said that he wanted ravage Izuku, would he have really lied about it?

Izuku leaned his forehead against the shower stall and let the water beat down over his shoulder blades. The direction of this train of thought was almost knee jerk at this point as he looked forlornly at his stiffening cock. He thought of Katsuki’s hot breath washing over his lips as he took himself in hand. Guilt weighed down his shoulders, but he fucked into his fist like a man possessed, biting harshly into the flesh of his hand in an effort to dampen the volume of his gasp. He twisted his fingers over the head and squeezed down to the base, his breath hitching as the familiar coil in his stomach wound and wound until eventually, he was spilling over his knuckles and onto the tile floor. He wished there was some sort of subsequent satisfaction in the act, but all he felt was the heavy sigh that rattled through his chest.

***

            As the weeks passed, things fell back into something akin to normal. If Izuku ignored the blatant sexual tension that was taught between them and poised to snap, it was almost like they were just hanging out. Izuku had a lot of practice compartmentalizing his feelings for Katsuki, and that’s exactly what he planned to do. The chance that his feelings were still woefully unrequited was too high for him to do anything else.

            But if he was honest, it was nice. He knew Kachaan, and Kachaan knew him back, and they had a tendency to fall into a comfortable routine. He could, eventually, genuinely call Katsuki his best friend again. It was simultaneously exhilarating and comfortable.

            However, Izuku had a tendency to think that Katsuki was somewhat infallible. He was extremely observant and very smart, and Izuku didn’t often take into account that there were things that Katsuki still didn’t know. He was foolish to think that their past wouldn’t come sneaking up on them eventually.

            Kirishima had come out to his parents over the break, which went heartwarmingly well as expected. He retold the story of what it was like coming out as gay to his lesbian mothers with such vigor that the group was in stitches, even Katsuki had spared them a twitch at the corner of his lips.

            “-and then-“ He snorted and giggled, “-and then I was like ‘Can you at least pretend to be surprised?’ You know?”

            Kaminari grinned, “U.A. is for the queers.”

            “The straight population in this school is TINY.”

            “What about your class, Mido? I bet support is where the nerdy gays congregate.”

            Izuku smiled, “You would be pretty much correct, myself included.”

            “You’re gay?” Kaminari asked, incredulous, “Oh god, did I out you? Am I outing you?”          

            Izuku couldn’t help the slightly hysterical giggle that bubbled past his lips, “No! No, no, that ship has sailed.” He saw Katsuki stiffen out of the corner of his eye.

            “Wait- you… did someone actually out you? Like forcefully? That’s fucked.” Kaminari looked somewhat bewildered as if he hadn’t actually considered the possibility.

            Izuku tried not to look at Katsuki, “There was just some kid in middle school that told the counselor that I was making the other boys uncomfortable.” Izuku waved his hand casually as if he wasn’t laying himself bare, “It was a big deal at the time but it’s really no-“

            “Wait. What?”

            The group was silent as Izuku turned at the sound of Katsuki’s interjection, “I- what? What are you saying ‘what’ to?”

            Kirishima chuckled nervously, sensing some sort of foreboding tension that had fallen over the room, “I- I really need to hit the gym before lights out. You guys coming?” It was a poorly veiled excuse to leave and let Katsuki and Izuku sort things out, but it was obeyed anyways. Izuku said his goodbyes cheerfully, although he knew the tension in his jaw was obvious.

            The only sound left in the workshop was the sound of somewhat labored breathing.

            “Deku.” Izuku turned to face him, feeling a certain numbness wash over him at the cold fury in Katsuki’s eyes, reminiscent of a much worse time. Katsuki swallowed hard, “That’s not what I heard happened.”

            “Does it matter?”

            Katsuki slammed his fist on the table, “Yes! Yes, it does fucking matter, Izuku.”

            Part of Izuku didn’t really want to know what Kachaan thought had happened all those years ago, but at the same time, he needed it, “Whose side of the story did you hear, Kachaan? Because it definitely wasn’t mine.”

            The expressive look on Katsuki’s face would have been comical if Izuku wasn’t shaking like a leaf, “I heard that you came out to the counselor, and then she told everyone.”

            Izuku shrugged, “That’s not completely untrue.”

            “Who said it? Who said that shit about you?”

            Izuku was almost startled by how quickly his emotions unraveled, he felt the sting behind his eyes like a kick in the ribs, “Don’t- don’t ask questions you know the answer to.”

            Katsuki’s breath hitched and it seemed as though once again the playing field was leveled, they were on the same page, “I- fuck. Izuku, I-“ He reached out his hand, far enough to graze the sleeve of Izuku’s uniform before he flinched away.

            “Don’t pity me.” He wasn’t sure where the anger came from but it felt foreign, like trying to learn to behave in someone else’s body, “You wouldn’t even look at me once everyone found out, but now-“ Izuku knew that he was being unfair, “I thought you were disgusted with me because I was gay. But it turns out you were just disgusted with me in general.” He couldn’t keep the self-deprecating edge from creeping into his voice, just like how Katsuki couldn’t smother the flash of genuine anguish that crossed his face.

           He opened his mouth, and then closed it again, rendered speechless, “I wasn’t- I was just-“

            Izuku sighed, “Just what, Kachaan? Just that uncomfortable around me that you-“

            “No!” He roared, but his eyes looked pleading, “No. I was just in fucking denial for years and by the time I got my head out of my ass you were gone to Shiketsu being fucking brilliant somewhere else and I never even tried to stand up for you or shit like that because I was too busy jerking my fucking ego from inside the closet.”    

            “You didn’t have to defend my honor, Kachaan, you aren’t my keeper-“

            Katsuki raised his hand to cup the size of Izuku’s neck, and the point of contact nearly sizzled, “I want the truth, Deku. I’m not saying I deserve it, but I want to hear you.”

            Izuku covered his hand with his own, feeling the phantom of his jack-rabbiting heart. His eyes fluttered shut, “Why? Why now?”

            He didn’t answer the question, not directly, but the gentle slide of his thumb into Izuku’s hairline was rather telling in itself, “I’m so fucking sorry.”

            Izuku kept his eyes closed, feeling as if he opened them to see the tension between Kachaan’s eyebrows he would be compelled to smooth it out himself. “I hadn’t told anyone yet, which is why I was pretty surprised when the counselor told me that there was a classmate that had concerns about my sexuality. There’s no way he could have known he was right, I think he was just trying to spread rumors.” Izuku took a shuddering breath, “I didn’t deny it when the rumor spread because I didn’t want to sacrifice myself just so they would leave me alone.”

            Katski’s hand slid up to tangle in Izuku’s hair, “Keep your eyes closed. Please.” He sounded closer, Izuku tried not to lean into him. “I didn’t- fuck. I didn’t worry about shit like that, ya know, relationships and attraction and whatever. Not until- I just couldn’t deal with it. With you. With myself. I wasn’t- I wasn’t brave when it counted.”

            Izuku raised a hand to Katsuki’s chest, feeling the erratic thumping of his heart, needing the physical proof that he wasn’t the only one being affected by the proximity, “You can’t always be the brave one.”

            Foreheads nearly pressed together, breath intermingling, “I can try.”

            Lips centimeters apart, fingers tightening slightly in his hair; Izuku tilted his chin up, “Prove it then.”