I don't really like using cliffhangers but ya gotta do what ya gotta do to keep things movin

I'm still trying out diff writing styles so sorry if you get whiplash from the shifts

Enjoy.

Chapter 6

Well, this was the most awkward elevator ride he'd ever been on.

It might just top that time he rode the elevator with All Might, Endeavor, and Shoto. Man, that literally took away years of his life.

Who even knew blood could be evaporated and frozen at the same time?

Izuku fidgeted, feet tapping incessantly. Oh god, this was so uncomfortable, and he wanted to just get the hell out of there. Sparing a glance at Fujiko's reflection on the elevator doors, she seemed to share his sentiment.

They were at opposite ends of the metal box, an impossibly thick invisible line in between them.

Ugh, why didn't his building have music in elevators like those in malls? He'd kill– okay, maybe not kill– for a distraction in the form of generic songs that get stuck in your head for days.

Damn the consequences! He'd prefer drowning in repetitive tunes than suffocate in this overbearing silence.

Just as Izuku was already making plans on how to punch a big enough hole to escape through an elevator without endangering his partner's fianceé, the elevator doors opened.

(Thank god because he couldn't really handle the weight of Fujiko's life right now)

"U-um, right! We're here!" He squeaked out, almost immediately smacking himself because wow, way to point out the obvious, idiot.

For some reason, the chiding voice in his head was starting to sound like Kacchan, and that was not good considering he was with a certain fianceé.

You know? The love of his life's the love of their life? Future wife? Partner 'till death parts them?

Izuku ignores the twisting feeling in his gut, clenching his teeth. With all the practice of years of hero work, he schools a polite smile on his face and guides her into the apartment.

"Um, please, make yourself at home, Takashima-san," He shifts on his feet nervously, "D-Do you want some tea?"

"Ah," Fujiko fidgets, white knuckles tightly clutching at her bag. "No, I... I won't be staying long. I just–"

She bit her lip, eyes flitting from everywhere but at Izuku, making warning bells ring in his mind. He knows when someone's afraid of him– knew enough from reading the body of language of victims and rescuees he'd encountered on the field. And he was itching to know why– what warranted this fear.

As far as he was concerned, Izuku had practically (okay, literally) avoided her since the engagement party. And with Fujiko having no reason to contact him personally due to being preoccupied with wedding plans, he didn't have to pretend to exert effort on his part.

So why was she afraid of him? Or if not fear, then what?

"Takashima-san," Her eyes snapped to his, the torrent of emotions almost overwhelming him. Almost.

Lowering his voice and shifting his body, he took a small step back, leaving himself open. "Is there something wrong?"

It seemed like a good move, seeing Fujiko's shoulders relax– just, slightly. She looked to be contemplating something, with her pursed lips and furrowed brows, and Izuku was whirled with how similar the mannerism was to Kacchan.

Ha, well, that's a perfect match for you. The voice didn't sound like Kacchan anymore, but the bitter undertones left him missing it.

She shifted– this time more assured and confident; less like she wanted to literally be anywhere but here.

"No, I... I was looking for Katsuki, actually. He wasn't–" Something flashed through her eyes, too fast for Izuku to catch. "He wasn't answering my texts."

"Oh."

"And when I got to his apartment, he wasn't there so I..." She trailed off, uncertainty and was that anger? (must be his imagination) laced in her voice. "So, I went here."

Because the first place Kacchan would go to if he wasn't home was obviously here, to Izuku.

The unspoken accusation hung in the air, and all Izuku could do was feel utter shame.

Shame for what, though? He wasn't ashamed of being one of the people Kacchan trusted the most– heck, that was his goal since he began following him when they were kids. If anything, he should be feeling proud for having such an important place in Kacchan's life.

So why was he still feeling shame? As if he was a dirty secret suddenly revealed to the world? He didn't know why but one thing was for sure.

He didn't like it.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Izuku looked at Fujiko, a steely look in his eyes. "Well, sorry to disappoint you, but he's obviously not here, as you can see."

He smiled, teeth showing. "And I'm sure that if you called him, Kacchan would tell you that we were out today."

It was so so petty, Izuku knew. The way he was acting– passive-aggressively asserting ownership over Kacchan. Which was absurd because if any of them should be feeling insecure and angry, it should be him.

After all, it wasn't Izuku who wore the ring.

It was so so petty, but a small part of him (very, very small, like a dot) was smug at monopolizing even a portion of Kacchan's time all to himself.

(It was petty and twisted, and he couldn't find himself caring)

"Oh. Oh, right. I– I'm sorry." A sniffle.

Izuku's thoughts halted.

Was she?–

Another sniffle.

He looked at her and saw brown eyes filling with tears.

Izuku moved on instinct, any feeling of satisfaction gone in a blink of an eye. He caught Fujiko in his arms, barely just catching her from collapsing on the floor as her body was wracked with sobs. She was trying to muffle her cries in her hands, her body shaking with every sob.

He held her against his chest, close but not suffocating, loose enough to give her the agency to reject the comfort but secure enough to give her support. When civilians were in hysteria, Izuku knew that they were in a state of disorientation– torn between needing help and needing space.

Something that Fujiko needed now and something Izu– Deku was offering.

He lost track of time, focusing only on coaxing her into breathing in, out, in, out until the sobs turned into small hiccups and sniffles, no longer muffled by callused hands.

Slowly, gently, Izuku let his arms fall, taking a couple steps back. He reached for a quick glass of water, offering it to the woman who was brushing away the remaining tears.

"Here," He offered the glass to her with a hesitant smile. She returned it with a shaky smile, hands slightly shaking as she held it.

After taking a couple gulps, she sets it down, looking embarrassed. "I'm so sorry, Deku-san. I can't believe I just– it must have been surprising."

She groaned, hiding her face again. "Ah, I'm so embarrassed. I'm usually not like this, I swear."

"No, no! It's fine!" Izuku frantically waves his hands, sending her his brightest smile. "I can't call myself a hero if I left you in your time of need, after all."

And that, he was sure of. He may have his moments of doubt when it came to Fujiko, Kacchan, and bundles of complicated feelings, but this– this he was sure of.

Midoriya Izuku was a hero– Deku, who gives people hope.

"So, um," He coughed, an awkward air hanging between them again. "Would you mind telling me, um... why?"

(Okay, that wasn't his smoothest but give him a break. He wasn't Shinso who knew the right thing to say all the time)

"Oh."

Fujiko rubbed at her arms, biting her lip. She looked to the side, seemingly battling an inner struggle.

Crap, crap, crap. Okay, that was obviously not the route to take, stupid Izuku. Ugh, why couldn't he just keep his mouth shut and let her keep her issues to herself? For God's sake, they weren't even close enough to have a heart-to-heart, and they didn't have a reason to anyway–

"It's been hard, this past month. With the wedding."

Oh. Of course. Izuku wanted to slap himself for thinking that there was another– what?– reason for her weird actions. He didn't know if he should laugh or cry because, of course of course, it was the wedding. His hands began itching to open that bottle of wine from his manager–

"Since, you know, we called it off."

.

.

.

.

What?!

Fujiko jolted from his outburst, and Izuku just realized he had shouted it out loud. And maybe he should've also toned down his voice, but at the moment, his mind wasn't functioning right, not being able to concentrate on anything else.

The wedding. Kacchan. Fujiko. They called off the wedding.

What? What?

Izuku stumbled back, glad for the nearby chair catching him. He ran his hands through his hair, tugging at it. Shots of pain cleared his mind from the haze, but the words were still sinking in.

(Or refused to sink in because is this really happening? Did I hear it right?)

"–san. Deku-san?"

"Huh?" He turned to the voice– Fujiko's– absentmindedly. He was still out of it, the thumping of his heart impossibly loud and mocking him with wedding wedding wedding wedding.

A slender callused hand took his, fingers pressing and–

Izuku jolts, the haze snapping out of existence, dropping him back to his body. Green eyes snapped to brown concerned ones, her fingers still applying pressure.

Fujiko smiled, "Back, Deku-san? You gave me quite a scare there."

"Ah! I–I'm so sorry! I just–" Izuku floundered, feeling his face heat up out of embarrassment. "I just didn't, um, know about, um, yeah..."

Wow, you should be a politician with how smooth that was, nerd. Ugh, shut up inner voice that sounds like Kacchan.

She looked at him, surprise flooding her face. "You didn't know? When Ka–" Her voice broke, a flurry of emotions flashing and disappearing from her eyes. "When we called it off, it reached the news outlets and uh, kind of became a big thing?"

Brown eyes stared into green again, and Izuku wasn't usually intimidated, but he guesses the situation warranted it. The way Fujiko was looking at him was like a scientist studying a bug under a microscope.

(It was Izuku. Izuku was the bug. A stupid bug that didn't use his stupid phone)

"You," Slender callused hands tightened their hold on his for a moment. "You really didn't know?"

He scratched the back of his head, "Um, no? I was overseas and just came back this week, actually. And I haven't had the time to check on what I missed."

Which was really, really a stupid move on his part, now that Izuku thought about it. Information is the primary asset of a hero, a stern Aizawa-like voice in his mind iterated.

(Okay, first there was a Kacchan voice, and now there's an Aizawa voice? Who's next, All Might?)

Ugh, he really shouldn't have gone on a media blackout. It wasn't his fault (it was, but he wasn't going to admit to it) that his heart couldn't take the constant articles that were abuzz with the nearing wedding.

After all, he had already gone across the globe to escape such heartache and despair. Why should he let it go on through his phone, right?

Wrong.

Because apparently, the gods decided that was the perfect time to drop a bomb.

"Wait..." Izuku felt dread sinking in his stomach. He looked at Fujiko, "Is that why you were looking for Kacchan? To–"

"Discuss the logistics of the cancelled wedding, yeah." She chuckled, but Izuku saw and heard the pain in her voice. He saw because that was something he had done– and continues to do; to cover up his pain with laughter and smiles.

And something in Izuku snaps.

Because how dare Kacchan do this? How dare he let this amazing woman– his perfect match go and just leave her to cry? For her break down until her legs gave under and she couldn't breathe amidst body-wracking sobs? How dare he?

Izuku must've said this out loud because slender but strong hands tightened around his.

"It's fine, Deku-san."

He snapped his gaze to Fujiko's, and his anger– rare, genuine anger burned as he took in her defeated expression.

"No," Izuku gritted out, "No, it is not fine, Takashima-san. God, I can't believe he didn't tell me! He should be–"

"–going through what I'm going through too."

His mouth clamped shut, feeling disbelief and a kind of awe at the conviction that left her lips. She still looked in pain, defeat hanging around her shoulders, weighing her down. But the fire and surety in her voice were there, clear as day.

As much as Izuku wanted to say otherwise, to get her to admit that this was unfair, this hurts, she should fight for them, he stopped himself.

It wasn't his place, after all. And even if it was, the little he knew of Takashima Fujiko assured him that she had already thought long and hard; that she had already fought and admitted her loss.

"You're pretty amazing, Fujiko-san."

Izuku wanted to say more. He wanted to shower her with praises and reassurances, but he knew he got it across with those few words. After all, Kacchan was the same.

(The thought of the blonde still seared anger in him, but that'll pass, he knows)

Fujiko smiles, brown eyes looking at him again. Instead of feeling like a bug under a microscope, he felt he was being measured– assessed. To see if he fit the standards of– what, Izuku didn't know.

After a few moments, her brown eyes filled with mirth and understanding, a smirk tugging at her lips. She looked like she had just gotten an answer to something, the weight on her shoulders lightening.

"Now, I see," Ignoring Izuku's confused expression, she squeezed his hand before heading to the door. Just as she turned the knob and just as Izuku was about to call her back, she stopped.

"So, that's what it was. Ha," She shook her head, a bittersweet smile on her face, "You're pretty amazing too, Izuku-san."

And with a soft click, she was gone.

Leaving an utterly confused Midoriya Izuku on the kitchen stool who was really in need of a drink.

This is Bakugou Katsuki. If you fuckers are leaving a prank call again, I will cut your fingers and stuff them up your asses. If not, then why the fuck are you calling?

The phone beeped. Izuku took a breath and started another message.

"Kacchan! Hi! Um, yeah, I know you're busy but you haven't returned my calls and," He released a shuddering breath. "Well, just, um, call me back? Please? I really need to talk to you and not just unload everything on a machine, Kacchan. Plus, it's really building up on my phone bill, so please, call me back or I'll be forced to call Auntie and–"

The phone clicked, ending the period for the message. Izuku swore, glaring at the device as if it had personally offended him.

Which it technically has since it keeps failing to get his calls through to Kacchan for the past weeks.

He groaned, throwing his phone to the side, flopping face-down on his bed.

This was getting him absolutely nowhere. He had tried everything– and by everything he means everything; texting, chatting in LIME, social media, spamming mentions, shouting his whole hero name (not just Dynamight!) while on patrol, wafting the smell of triple spicy curry through his window.

Hell, Izuku even tried bribing Hatsume to hack into Mirko's agency's database to get a copy of Kacchan's schedule and patrol routes (because apparently the blonde up and decided to end his vacation on the same day of The Incident™ which was not suspicious at all)

If that was an indication that his partner was ignoring him, then that was just the start of the excruciating radio silence.

Obviously, all those methods failed spectacularly (the last one resulting in a 4-hour lecture from his manager and HR), so he was back to leaving voicemails.

Yes, it was completely normal to send around 10 (minimum 5) voicemails per day. Izuku wasn't an idiot to send 20; that would just seem desperate.

The only reason that kept him going was that Kacchan's network provider had called and asked him to kindly please stop sending continuous voicemails to Mr. Dynamight since it's barring other calls.

(Though Izuku was willing to bet his All Might collection that Kacchan was the one who told them about it)

Ergo, the only option left to him was to use the Auntie card, but he wanted to avoid that as much as possible. At best, it would get Kacchan to return his calls. At worst, well, let's just say using the Auntie card would violate the bro code that Kirishima spouted about.

(And would result in his blood all over the floor, but psh, details)

Now, Midoriya Izuku was a good friend. He knew when to reach out to some and when to back away. He knew almost all of his friends' favorite foods and what they would chuck out of the window. He even has their birthdays and special anniversaries on a separate calendar.

So, yeah, Izuku takes pride in calling himself a good friend. He knew he was overcompensating for his lack of friends back in middle school, but he loved it. He loved being able to turn their frowns into smiles, their tears of sadness into that of laughter.

So when Kacchan suddenly dropped him after constant da– meetings (stupid, stupid), he couldn't help overthinking every little thing he did and said.

Did he mumble too much? Should he have learned to stop himself when he was ranting? Oh god, what if it was his hair? After all, Kacchan always complained about it. Or was it something he did during their breakfasts together? Crap, did something slip from his exhaustion-addled brain? Oh no, did he actually eat a rock?

Izuku groaned in frustration, punching his Dynamight plushie.

"Why are you acting this way, Kacchan?" He glared at the plushie, its scowl taking up almost the whole thing. He swatted at it, but it only flopped sideways, fiery-red eyes still glaring at him.

He huffed, maintaining eye contact. If anyone probably walked in, they'd think he was crazy, having a staring contest with a plushie.

(A limited edition first release plushie, mind you)

"...Is this what you felt when I ignored you that time?" Plushie-Kacchan didn't reply, still glaring at him on its side. Izuku sighed and straightened it, fluffing it up. He lied back down, back against the wall, the plushie against his chest.

The past weeks were horrible, with an army of feelings battling out inside him. Among the feelings of confusion, irritation, guilt(?), it was a deep-trenching sadness that won. Not because Kacchan was ignoring him, no.

It was because Kacchan was acting like nothing was wrong (even though there was because if there wasn't, then why couldn't Izuku sleep?)

In place of answered calls and messages, he devoured news after news of the blonde like a starved man who was hungry for even a sliver of indication that Kacchan was there.

He found himself torn between pride and hurt for the multiple rescues, busts, operations streamed across the country featuring the rising Symbol of Victory.

Because Kacchan was okay. He was more than okay; he was on a streak and keeping the world's eyes on him.

But Izuku wasn't okay.

"Kacchan..." He buried his face in the plushie, a familiar burn in his eyes.

There was an almost manic emotional undertone in every message, every call he sent. Izuku's heart drummed and threatened to burst out of his chest as he waited and waited and waited.

It would be a lie to say that he wasn't expecting something from those messages and calls. It would be a lie to say that Izuku didn't stay up several nights in a row, waiting for Kacchan to pick up and call and–

And what? What exactly did he expect to happen once he heard the deep, grumbling voice?

Did he expect a happy ending? A fairytale scene where Kacchan professed his love for Izuku? Where he'll lovingly whisper in Izuku's ears that he left her for him for him for him

Images of pained brown eyes filled with tears and slender callused hands clutching at him flashed in his mind. Izuku remembered how Fujiko held herself up after breaking, resolute in picking up the broken pieces with a finality. He remembered her cries and the sobs that looked too big– too much for her to handle.

And he feels sick. He wants to punch himself black and blue, to rip out his traitorous heart that skipped a beat when she–

"We called it off."

Katsuki. Katsuki.

Kacchan.

Kacchan.

Izuku remembers. He remembers the smell of the sea, the wind, and the waves that tickled him. He remembers the feel of sand latching onto his feet as he ran, mischievous crimson eyes gleaming as they chased after him. He remembers crackling and explosions and wrecked sandcastles. He remembers crimson eyes staring up at him, the usual scowl gone and replaced by the rarest of smiles. He remembers them filling with tears as they both tackled one another to the sand, hands tickling and laughter ringing across the water.

He looks at his phone, thumb hovering over the call button. The chat was filled with messages– unread and all from him for the past weeks.

Izuku took a shuddering breath.

Ring

And called.

.

.

Please.

Izuku was so tired.

He rolled his shoulders backward, groaning at the cracks. God, he really should use those massage coupons Yaoyorozu gave him.

But then he remembered the pair of spa coupons she slipped him, a knowing smile on her face.

"Maybe you can invite someone to go with you? It's nicer to relax when you're with someone... important."

Izuku had blushed then, spluttering random excuses he pulled out of nowhere.

Out of your fucking ass, a voice that sounded way too familiar sniped at him. He shook his head of those thoughts, not missing how his heart squeezed at the thought of Kacchan.

Kacchan, his childhood friend who was estranged for a good decade before they reconciled. Kacchan, a crush turned the love of his life when Izuku finally finally stopped denying it.

Kacchan, who... was ignoring him.

Izuku sighed and stepped into the elevator, the doors closing. He spent a good minute just standing behind the closed doors, not pressing any button.

(Of course, he knows where his room was! This wasn't a repeat of the Mochi Incident, okay)

He bit his lip, eyes darting from 2 to 4.

Should he– but what if– but then– oh no he'll– still, things are– ugh.

Channeling all the courage he'd saved up over the years, Izuku pressed a shaking finger on the button for the 4th floor. The familiar clunking of the elevator signaled the ascent (and maybe his inevitable death too).

Clenching his fists at the side, he looked resolutely at the elevator doors.

I can do this! I've gone a long way since I started in UA. I'm no longer the useless Deku! I'm a hero! I'm confident, intelligent, brave–

The elevator shook as it stopped, doors opening.

–and dead. Oh god, what was he doing? He can't believe he went to Kacchan's floor! Oh no no no, he needs to get out of here!

"Midoriya?"

Izuku didn't know if it was a good thing that Aizawa decided to make pretty much everything in the dorm quirk-proof when he jumped out of fright, instinctively activating One For All.

Before, he would've left a Deku-shaped hole in the metal box. Now, Izuku groaned from the floor, rubbing at his head. The school may have saved a lot from damages to school property, but it certainly didn't keep him from losing a couple brain cells.

"Ow..." He winced when he touched a sore spot. Oh, that was going to leave a big bump, alright.

A couple of arms reached out to him. "You okay there? Sorry, didn't mean to surprise you. I was concerned since you were just standing there looking like someone killed your dog."

Well, that was an almost accurate depiction of how he felt before his spectacular elevator jump.

Izuku sheepishly smiled, taking one of Shoji's hands up. "Yup! 'M fine, just a little bump! Perfectly a-okay!"

Shoji raised a brow, obviously not believing a word. "Hm, okay. Well, put some ice on that before you sleep."

He saluted, "Roger that, Tentacole!"

The taller boy shook his head, amused at the greennette's antics. The girls were right; Midoriya was a fluffy cinnamon roll.

Shoji stepped into the elevator and looked at Izuku. He tilted his head towards the open metal doors.

"Aren't you getting off?"

"Eh? Um, actually, haha, funny thing is, um..." He trailed off, mumbling excuses of my hand slipped, and I fell on it. Amidst his mumbling, he didn't even notice multiple arms pushing him out until the elevator doors were closing.

And he wasn't in it.

"Eh?!"

"Bakugou's up on the roof, by the way. He left his room a while ago," Shoji gave him a thumbs-up, and he could swear the silver-haired boy was smirking under his mask. "Goodluck, Midoriya."

"W–Wait! Shoji–"

The elevator doors closed, ringing the familiar ding before the clunking started up again.

And that's how he found himself on Kacchan's floor, looking like a watermelon with how red his face was. At this point, Izuku wasn't sure why he was flushed– from exhaustion? From panic and overthinking? From being betrayed by Shoji? Or from the thought of finally seeing Kacchan?

Judging by the thundering beat of his heart and the feel of his stomach twisting itself in knots as he walked towards the stairs to the roof, he's betting on the latter.

(And maybe from the fact that the taller boy had read him so well)

Izuku felt like he was walking to his execution platform with every step he took upwards, the door to the roof seemingly tantalizing yet deadly to him.

It was a venus flytrap, and he was the fly that was venturing too close to the sweet scent.

Staring down at the doorknob, Izuku knew he could still turn back. He didn't have to do this today. He was tired, after all, from running all around town for his internship. He hadn't even changed yet, his clothes sticking to him and emanating the mixed smell of sweat and dirt.

He could go back down, take a quick shower and get some good hours of sleep that he'd missed the past week.

He could do all that.

Izuku looked at the doorknob again.

He turned it and pushed.

One of the things that Izuku liked the most about Musutafu was the night sky.

Sure, there was Takoba, the nearby almost unending forest, the arcades, and some hero monuments.

But it was the night sky that tugged at his little heart, bright green eyes gazing in wonder at the multitude of bright lights– stars, his mother said– that seemed never-ending.

He knew that other places in Japan were not privy to the sight, the glaring lights of the hustle-bustle activity obscuring the wonder of Mother Nature above.

So Musutafu at night was special for Izuku; it was his special little paradise.

His favorite were the moonless nights, where even the smallest of these lights got their turn to shine– to say, I am here.

Tonight was one of those nights.

A gust of spring wind greeted him as he closed the door behind him, an indication of the end of winter and the start of another season. It also signaled the end of their time in UA, with only a month left before they stepped out and announced their presence to the world.

As heroes.

Izuku felt his world stop at the sight before him, his heart deafening with the rapid thump thump thump thump.

The whole night sky was filled with stars and constellations, their individual glow and sparkle intertwining with each other, forming a trail– a sea in the heavens.

And right in the center, surrounded by it, was Kacchan.

The blonde's back faced him, his body resting back on his arms, face directed up to the stars. The illuminating light of the sky fell upon Kacchan's hair, making it glow amidst the darkness of the moonless night.

Izuku's heart couldn't stop beating loudly that he clutched at his chest uselessly as if the action would stop the incessant sound.

Bakugou Katsuki was breathtaking.

At times, when he asked himself why he loved Kacchan, he ended up not being able to answer. Not because he couldn't find anything to say, but because there was too much for there to be words to say anything. Because when he thought about why he loved Kacchan, he couldn't find words that would be enough to handle– to carry the burden of the torrent of feelings.

Midoriya Izuku just knew that he did.

He had looked at Kacchan's face, the impermanent scowl etched on his face as he scarfed down the new ultra-spicy ramen and just thought:

Oh, I love him. Huh.

Because for Izuku, 'love' had always been equated with Kacchan. When he thought of love, he thought of golden hair and crimson eyes. When he thought of love, he thought of crackles and explosions in his heart. When he thought of Bakugou Katsuki, he thought of love.

Just like now.

He moved, silently sitting beside Kacchan. The blonde didn't acknowledge his presence, but Izuku knew that Kacchan already knew he was there– even before he had opened the door.

His heart fluttered at the thought that, like him, Kacchan was aware of him too. It had always been that way, after all.

They sat in silence for a while, Izuku leaning back on his arms and gazing at the stars that remained constants in his life. Maybe, long after he passed, they would still be there, just shining down on the rest of humanity.

It was a bittersweet thought, but it made Izuku look at things in perspective, at the things– the precious people in his life that would eventually pass as he would.

Would Kacchan be one of them?

He turned to look at Kacchan and froze.

Crimson eyes were steadily looking back at him, no scowl present on the blonde's face. Kacchan looked at him with a contemplative look on his face, studying the greennette.

Why, he wasn't sure. But then again, even after years of knowing each other, Izuku never really knew how to read his childhood friend. He knew how to dissect his words buried under profanities and insults. He knew how to study the meaning beneath his violent actions and tendencies.

But reading Kacchan? That was one thing he couldn't do.

Which was why when the other had ignored him for the past week– abruptly, just one morning– Izuku's mind had gone into a frenzy. The stress of panicking over what he did added to his internship's workload, giving him little to no time to process and dissect it.

It made his head hurt and knowing that Kacchan wouldn't outright tell him. He would never take the first step; that the greennette knew.

So Izuku took the first step. He always did.

"Kacchan, you know you can tell me, right? If I did something wrong? I–" He clenched his fists, lip trembling. He didn't look away, "I'm your friend, right?"

Kacchan didn't say anything back, crimson pools drawing him in. Izuku willed himself to keep his tears at bay because he couldn't cry. Not here, not right now. He wanted to avert his eyes from crimson, to stand and go back. It wasn't like he expected Kacchan to do a 180 and spill his heart out after all. They– they weren't that kind of friends.

They were still Deku and Kacchan. Not Izuku and Katsuki.

Izuku opened his mouth, an excuse to leave ready– to be anywhere but here, then–

Kacchan moved, hands reaching out.

And something buried in Izuku's mind came out like a flash; images of sneers and taunts, hooded crimson eyes filled with hate, deafening explosions, and burnt paper. Those images– memories that he'd buried long ago jumped out and overlapped, and he couldn't help it.

He flinched, eyes closing and arms raised.

.

.

But the explosions, the taunts, the burn never came.

Izuku lowered his arms and opened his eyes, meeting crimson ones that shone with emotions that whirled and clashed against one another.

Shock, guilt, anger, sadness, resignation, acceptance.

Then Kacchan blinked, and the shutters closed, the walls went up once more. He turned his gaze back to the stars, hands back at his sides.

"'S fine. It was just a shitty week. Stop thinking everything's about you, Deku."

Oh. "Oh."

Izuku didn't know where to go from here, a tense atmosphere hanging heavier by the minute. He knew– somehow, he knew that it was because of something he did. And he wanted to fix it– whatever this was before leaving it to die out in the night air–

"Ain't you goin' to take a shower, shitty nerd? You fucking stink."

The fire inside him fizzled out, his determination deflating at the words.

Kacchan wants me to leave him alone. He swallowed, the lump in his dry throat becoming heavy.

"...Okay, Kacchan."

Each step felt heavy like his feet were chained by a weight. The stars seemed to shine brighter, the wind picking up and trying trying to push him back down, to stay.

Izuku turned the knob, and the weight was gone, the stars back to the heavens, the wind passing. Before closing the door behind him, he turned back, a sad smile on his face. The blonde wasn't looking, and he wasn't sure if he was glad for it.

"Have a nice night, Kacchan."

Izuku closed it, a soft click echoing.

And the world was dark again, with no stars and no wind. With no sea of lights in the heavens that played with blonde locks and no familiar scent of cinnamon and smoke.

Ugh, i really want a bkdk plushie :

I never really liked OCs lol, they're such a pain to write and make important. But alas she's an important part of this story so I had to bring her up again. When i picture her i seriously just see a blob lol still, her quirk is freakin cool tho.

Aaand we are officially on our last 2 weeks before i wrap this up. Hope uni allows me to release Ch7 by then!

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