It's at times like this when Izuku knocks on Katsuki's door. Even after all the insults he's taken, Katsuki is still his friend. The hallway is cold without Mina's constant chatter, and Kirishima's bright personality. The common room is empty without Ochako's smile and Iida's scolding. So, Izuku goes to find comfort in Katsuki's dorm.
Izuku knocks once more, curling into himself.
The bulb lighting the hallway flickers once, twice, and goes out. A pause, and the telltale clicking of a lock.
"Come in, shitty nerd."
Katsuki's room is warm. It smells of fire and cinnamon, of nights watching movies on the couch and days playing heroes in the forest.
Izuku likes it.
Katsuki's bed is made, and the history paper is on his desk.
"You should've gone to sleep, Kacchan."
Izuku lies in Katsuki's bed, nestled in the fiery red covers, the room dark, save for the warm glow of a small table lamp. Katsuki's pencil scratches, the slightest indentations being left on his paper.
Izuku smells of water and linen, of picking flowers in the summer and drinking hot chocolate in the winter.
Katsuki likes it.
A leg peeks out from under the blanket, all tanned skin and muscle.
"Shove over, bed hog."
The dark oak bed groans under their weight. Katsuki drapes an arm over Izuku's stomach, and Izuku shifts minutely into Katsuki's touch. It reminds them of autumn days, when they were younger, when Katsuki would play heroes with Izuku, when Izuku would fall asleep with Katsuki in his bedroom. They long for those days.
When they were young and innocent.
Katsuki nibbles Izuku's ear.
"W-wait, Kacchan."
Izuku feels the heat of Katsuki's tongue against his neck.
"Turn around, Deku."
Katsuki hovers over Izuku. The table lamp casts a faint orange glow on his face.
Izuku thinks he looks like one of the gods.
It's hot. Katsuki has fire in his eyes, and Izuku is turning to water. They both know, because fire and water together make steam.
Izuku kisses hesitantly, with a restrained urgency. Katsuki kisses feverently, rough but gentle. It clashes, very much so, but it works out,
"No one has to know."
"No one has to know."
It's way too hot in Katsuki's room. Izuku writhes under Katsuki's hands. Katsuki trembles in the gaze of Izuku's eyes. They want more. Katsuki is rough, but Izuku can take it. It's sweat and lust, Izuku's tears and Katsuki's tears.
"Only tonight."
"Only tonight."
Everyone can surely hear them. They moan and pant, but the silence is painful. Izuku is commanding, and he seldom needs to utter a word for Katsuki to make him feel welcomed.
"Katsuki."
"Izuku."
Katsuki's room smells of fire and cinnamon, of water and linen. It smells of childhood memories and memories to come. It has a red blanket tossed to the floor. It has feelings of passion and guilt and regret. Katsuki's room is an escape from reality for them. Nothing ever leaves it, nothing ever comes in. And yet, they feel the ghosts come through the cracks in the walls, through closed windows and closeted secrets.
"I'm sorry."
"Thank you."
When Katsuki awakes, Izuku is gone.