Izuku wakes about eighteen hours later. He feels puffy and sniffly, but otherwise, he really does feel refreshed. He likes to think this is what Kacchan wanted for him when he booked this egregiously expensive spa weekend for him. He slept through a facial and a seaweed peel, but he has just enough time to eat a small meal and make it to his last deep tissue massage.
Seeing couples pass by still needles at him, but he really does feel better. Maybe he just needed to have an emotional breakdown and knock himself the fuck out to get a little perspective. This is hardly the worst thing he's ever had to deal with—it's hardly the first time he's ever been lonely, or felt unloved. This is nothing new, so there's no reason to treat this like the end of the world.
He undressed and lays across the cushioned table while he waits for his masseuse. There's candles and soft music trilling over hidden speakers, and Izuku is determined to enjoy it. He sticks his head in the weird face hole and patiently waits. It's not long before he hears the door open and close.
"Hello," she says, and her voice is smooth and easy and he feels a wave of calm caress him.
"Was that a Quirk?"
Her laughter trills like a bell, and Izuku feels it in his goddamn soul.
"Yes. I can't turn it off, so let me know if it bothers you."
"I really like it. Are there drawbacks?"
"For you, yes. It can leave you feeling a bit… upset later. It uses up your serotonin."
"Like a drug," he says, and her hands begin to press into his back. He almost moans, it feels so good. Instead, he says, "Do you mind talking?"
"'Course not," she says simply, and Izuku is off.
They talk about his childhood and growing up functionally Quirkless, and every time she responds to him, he feels light and fluttery. She doesn't speak often, but he can tell she's listening, and the fact that he doesn't know her, and he can't see her makes talking so easy. Honestly, he should pay her extra for the impromptu therapy session. They end up talking about why he's here, and it invariably brings Kacchan into the conversation.
"I think he was worried about me. I've been stressed having him back in my life, and knowing that he's worried feels kind of good, but it also makes me feel guilty."
"Why's that, hon?"
"I… It's my fault that we never work out. I think I'll always love him, but I don't deserve him."
Talking so openly about how he feels about Kacchan terrifies him, but this girl doesn't know them. She doesn't know what they are and what they aren't, or how Izuku has ruined their lives.
"What do you deserve then?" She asks softly, her hands kneading the muscles along his spine. The question slams into him like a wrecking ball.
"I don't know. I guess I always take whatever I can get."
"Maybe you should take what you want."
They don't speak much after that. Izuku is running circles in his mind, trying to find the intersection of need and want and deserve in his life. He's only ever reached out and taken one thing for himself—Hisami, and that's about as high-risk and high-reward as it gets. Hisami was more than enough for him, but now that he spends half his time with Kacchan, all the little cracks in Izuku's life are widening. He needs to do something.
—
Izuku leaves the spa early, after an early dinner ordered in. He feels bad wasting Kacchan's money by leaving a day early, but there's only one place he really wants to be right now.
The car drops him off in front of his mother's house, and she's curled up on the couch in her pajamas when he closes the front door behind him. She pats the cushion next to him, and he can't drop his overnight bag fast enough to get over there. Izuku lays his head in his mother's lap, and they're silent for a long time as she strokes his hair. Finally, he breaks the silence.
"I'm sure you've already talked to the Bakugos."
She mhmms softly.
"And… I assume you've known for a while."
"I have."
"Do you hate me?" Izuku can't help the tears sliding down his face and onto his mother's fleece pajama pants.
"I could never. I don't understand, though. I want to understand why."
"I… I wanted to love someone the way you love me. And I wanted to be loved back. Unconditionally, you know?"
"But why Katsuki?"
Izuku can think of a thousand reasons, a thousand excuses, but they all come back to one essential truth: Kacchan is the only friend he's ever had. There was a time, however fleeting, when Kacchan genuinely cared for Izuku, and that has always stuck with him. Izuku's been used a lot in his life by people he cared about—people he thought had cared about him. Everyone hurts him and everyone leaves. He just wanted one person to stay.
"I think I've always loved him. It's not a reason, or an excuse. It's just a fact. I can't exactly put into words why I did it because it was wrong and it's never not going to be wrong, but I just… wanted a piece of him to keep."
"I'm sorry, baby," she whispers, and it makes Izuku feel warm. "What can I do to help?"
He doesn't mind being babied by her every now and then. He really needed this, and he's not too proud to admit it.
"I don't think you can do anything. This is my mess and I just have to grin and bear it. He's Hisami's father."
"No, you don't have to grin and bear it. If you need a break, I'll help. I'll take Hisami back and forth between you two. You don't have to see each other."
Izuku thinks about it for a second. Honestly, he can't decide if seeing Kacchan would be worse than not seeing him. Now that he's back in his life, it's odd to think about going back to little to no contact. But… Kacchan might actually prefer that.
"Okay. Thanks, Mom. Thanks for always being here." He nuzzles into her leg, and eventually he dozes off.
—
Early Monday morning brings Kacchan, and a still-sleeping Hisami. Kacchan goes straight to his bedroom, and puts Hisami down for another few hours of blissful sleep before folding himself on the couch. He's perilously close to Izuku.
"How was the shower?"
"Great, until it wasn't. I told him he'd get to meet Frostfire, but the bastard never showed."
"I can only imagine the meltdown he had," Izuku says, commiserating and reminiscing on his own experiences with public tantrums.
"I hate seeing him cry. It's the worst thing I've ever felt," he says, and Izuku is awed by how easily he shows his sensitive side. It makes his stomach twist.
"I know how you feel. Next time, under promise and over deliver."
Katsuki nods, and then makes a show of inspecting Izuku, like he's searching for all his imperfections.
"Feeling better? You look like you got some sleep."
"I feel… galvanized."
"There's a four dollar word," he says, smirking.
"You're not the only one who paid attention in school, Kacchan," he says, rolling his eyes lightly and looking away. He hates how much he loves Kacchan's smiles. His face feels hot.
"So, you're a man with a plan then? What's the first step?"
"Make some goddamn friends." He wears a determined expression that Kacchan can't help but raise an eyebrow at.
"You really don't have any friends?"
"I have coworkers and general acquaintances," he says, picking at imaginary dust on the couch cushion to avoid his gaze.
"You don't have a single friend from high school? Or college?"
Izuku isn't about to tell Kacchan about the few people in his life that had previously given him the time of day. He had a boyfriend in high school for about two years, and the entire time they kept it a secret because Quirkless Deku wasn't cool enough to be acknowledged by him in public. There were a slew of people in university who hung out with him because he always shared his notes and filled out study guides in their entirety, but they pointedly ignored him outside of class, and eventually he took the hint. There was a girl whom he'd thought he was in a relationship with, but really she was using him to make her on and off boyfriend—who apparently lived in the apartment next to his—jealous. She would come over at the same time every day and they'd proceed to have very loud— and very mediocre—sex, complete with slamming headboards and banging walls, until one day his neighbor came and punched his lights out. He had a black eye for a month. The list goes on and on.
Izuku shakes his head to shove those memories away. They hurt, but they don't matter anymore.
"The past doesn't matter. I'm not going to let it stop me from moving forward," he says.
"Deku," Kacchan sighs and looks away, almost as if he's embarrassed. "You're a good person. I'm sure you'll figure things out in no time."
"That's… kind of you to say. Shouldn't you be on your way? Your shift starts soon."
Kacchan gives him a look like he knows he's getting the brush off, but they both know Izuku is right, and he really should be going.
"If you need anything, call me," he says, and it's almost like a threat. Aggressively caring.
"Thanks, Kacchan," he says, because he refuses to give a straight answer. He can't lie to Kacchan, and he can't say I plan on avoiding you from now on, so he won't say anything else.
Izuku has plans, and pining over someone who never wanted to be around him in the first place isn't part of that plan. They need space from each other. Kacchan has a life, and Izuku needs to get one.