I posted this on AO3 for Deku's birthday but not here since I wasn't sure if FFN rating policies would take it down. But oh well, I'll take the risk :
I know that UA follows Japan's trimester year, but I decided to push back the start of the school year to the first week of May instead of mid-April. I mean, just in case readers who care about that get confused.
Enjoy!
the You who loves me
"Izuku! Can you pop over to Imada-san's shop to pick up the order? Yuu-chan forgot to get it yesterday."
"Ah," A wild tuft of green curls popped out from behind the tower of boxes in his arms, careful not to jostle the jars of anko. "Sure, Okada-san! Do you want me to drop by Sakaguchi-san's about the tofu skin too?"
"Please do!"
If someone told Izuku he'd be spending the weeks after his second year at UA being the errand boy in Aldera… well, he wouldn't exactly be surprised.
Confused, sure, but it wouldn't be too shocking or mind-boggling to consider that he'd extend a helping hand to anyone in need.
While helping around his district was nice, the question of why he was even home in the first place takes precedence in his mind. Because as far as he was concerned, Izuku had been planning to intern at an agency in Osaka or Tokyo, with the final year looming over him.
So, why…?
Go home. No internships, no official hero work of any kind. Rest or I'll make sure you all rest forever.
Ah. That's why.
Izuku sighed, smiling and waving at the people he passed by, just narrowly missing hitting a cat with his bicycle.
It's not that he didn't like helping out– carrying this and that to here and there, and delivering newspapers with all sorts of knick-knacks. He even ended up serving customers at one point, though Izuku never got to repeat it.
Something about his eyes and freckles? And… his arms and legs? He wasn't exactly sure what went down in that town meeting, and he decided not to push it.
Middle-aged men and women in his district were scary; on a different level of terror than the usual villain.
This was better, Izuku thinks, than how the others from his class were faring. At least with him, his mother didn't constantly force-feed and force him to go to amusement parks or arcades like Ochako's did.
This blank space of free time even made him finally learn how to ride a bicycle!
Plus…
"Ha? The fuck you doing here, Deku? You slacking off work or something?!"
Izuku turned, the smile that always made its way to his face when it came to one person already there.
"Kacchan! You're here!"
"Fucking obviously, idiot. What, your side jobs making you lose your eyesight, ha?"
Izuku laughed and shifted the box of nori and bags of tofu skin. If he did it just so he could get a better view of Katsuki, Imada-san and the other perusing patrons didn't comment.
Of course a little added weight on his arm was nothing compared to seeing his friend(?). Even if it was a building getting in Izuku's way to catch a glimpse of that golden hair and captivating crimson eyes then–
Izuku blinked when something hit him on the forehead, his eyes following the surume that rolled for a bit on the floor before stopping.
"Stop your muttering, shitty Deku," Katsuki clicked his tongue, crossing his arms over his chest. "Don't need you to scare the shit out of the idiots in the old man's shop."
"Oi! Don't go nabbing and throwing my wares, kid!"
"It had a bug on it, fucktard!"
Before Imada-san could even begin firing up a retort (and what looked like a bug swatter), Katsuki's phone rang, an indie rock tune playing in the small establishment.
Knowing his friend(?), Izuku knew that Katsuki always answered on the first ring. Something about 'not letting a fucker have the upper hand'?
So when the blonde just gritted his teeth and let his phone ring, the volume growing louder along with the constant buzzing, Izuku was, admittedly, confused.
"Kacchan? Aren't you… going to answer that?"
"No."
"Oh…" Izuku bit his lip, and looked around. Everyone else averted his gaze, even Imada-san suddenly having great interest in counting the coins in the register.
Another thing that he discovered with this little break was that Katsuki was, even with how far he'd already gone for himself, still treated as a live wire by everyone. Especially by those who'd watch him grow up in these very streets.
Which was really unfair because anyone with proper eyes (like him) and a bleeding heart (like him) would see how much his friend(?) had changed.
Izuku knew that the vulgar words, gruff and delinquent behavior, and sometimes downright asshole persona was simply Katsuki being… well, Katsuki.
And there was nothing wrong with that.
"Kacchan, didn't you tell me you have a policy of never letting a call go unanswered?"
He saw Katsuki twitch, the blonde moving over to peruse at the shiso leaves, which– Izuku noted– was a distance greater from him than earlier.
Izuku frowned and stepped closer, the ringing still going on and on. He watched as every buzz made Katsuki twitch, and for a split second, he was worried the blonde would grind his molars to dust by the time the caller finally had enough.
Now, who would be brave enough to call Katsuki and make him not want to pick it up?
Oh.
Izuku sighed. "Kacchan… that's Auntie, isn't it?"
He sighed again when the telltale swear left Katsuki's lips, which, now that Izuku observed, was darker than usual and with a bit more shine.
He took a step back, eyes surveying (not checking out! No!) the blonde; this time, properly. The outfit was achingly similar to his usual fits that it fooled Izuku on the onset, but there were details here and there that supported his suspicions.
But really, it was the eyeliner and smokey eye with a dash of glitter that did the trick.
"Kacchan!" Izuku gasped. "I can't believe you're playing hooky!"
"Fuckin– No, I'm not you–" Katsuki growled, glaring at Izuku. "That's, I– Shut up!"
While the rest of their class and Izuku's other friends were moaning about the forced relaxation on them, he didn't want to say it but… well, Katsuki drew the short stick.
It was an accident, honestly! Izuku had absolutely zero expectations that the modeling agency he delivered food for once was where the Bakugous forced their son to 'finally have some use for those muscles'.
Which… well, Izuku couldn't exactly fault them for. The reasons to why he used his well-earned salary to subscribe to the next edition of that magazine was… well, not open to the public.
The ringing finally stopped, but the second of peace soon led to constant pings and buzzing from Katsuki's phone.
After more than decade of knowing his friend(?), Izuku should've known better than expect another round of Katsuki ignoring his phone and pretending it didn't exist.
No… that kind of move was too out of character for him.
"Fuck it."
It was a good thing that it wasn't the new bowls for Fujimoto-san that he was carrying, with the upended boxes of nori and scattered bags of tofu skin the only thing left of the two them in Imada-san's shop.
Ah. And…
"Get back here, you brat! Don't you fucking dare leave me to deal with your boss!"
Katsuki flipped him off, cackling as his scooter revved and left the shopkeep in dust. "The old hag can fucking eat your shitty surume, geezer!"
Izuku yelped at the burst of speed, his hands scrambling to fix the hastily thrown helmet in his face.
This was… well, he liked to call this kind of thing as a once-in-a-blue-moon phenomenon, but that'd be lying what with how many times Izuku got dragged along during Katsuki's escapades.
He should be berating his friend(?). Maybe go on a tirade about how he shouldn't make things hard for his parents and be a filial son!
Izuku should! As would be his responsibility as Katsuki's friend(?).
"Kacchan, can we drop by the junk shop? Oh, and at Furukawa-san's place too! He still needs some help moving stuff, and I promised to play with Kei-chan too."
But with his hands clutching onto Katsuki's shirt (and maybe brushing against the thin mesh), the wind in their faces, and Katsuki's threatening growls, Izuku thinks he could do that at another time.
Now… Izuku just had to figure out how many more jobs he could take so he could buy whatever perfume it was that Katsuki was wearing that made his heart thrum loudly in his chest.
Or buy the blonde, in general.
The details weren't important.
"A day off? Really?"
Izuku wiped off the bead of sweat from his face, tilting his head. He heard a couple sighs and camera clicks from inside, but that must've been his imagination. There was no one but him and Yuu-kun outside, after all.
Maybe they were taking selfies?
The younger Imada glared at Izuku as he reached for another box from the truck, shirt long gone and slung over the driver's seat. Setting it down, he tried for a smile, wincing when the glare only intensified.
It's weird how Yuu-kun reminded him so much of Katsuki. Well, with the glares and muttered 'stupid green-haired wall', anyway.
"Yeah," The kid huffed, kicking at one of the empty boxes. "Mom wanted you to enjoy your shitty youth or whatever."
"Oh…" Izuku blinked when a pink petal landed on his nose, scrunching up his nose to dislodge it. "I don't know what that means, but thank you?"
When he still couldn't get it off, he shifted the last box and tucked it under his arm, scarred fingers deftly picking it off. Again, Izuku kept hearing clicking of cameras but when he squinted to look into the shop, no one's looking his way.
Maybe he did need a break.
Yuu-kun sighed. "Why do I even– ugh, she meant you should go to the hanami. Next week's April already, right?"
Huh. Who knew two weeks flew by just like that?
Izuku hummed as he set down the last box, swiftly wearing his shirt just as the gust of spring wind passed by. Even with the sun already high in the sky, the air was still cool.
Main reason why he took it off, really. He couldn't let the sweat dry on his back!
With the wind came a rush of petals, a swath of soft pinks and magentas swirling around them. Of course, with everyone else looking at the scene, it looked something out of the commercial– with budding hero-in-training Deku looking up with shining eyes and hands open to catch the little things in his hand.
It made the cacophony of camera clicks and the younger Imada's glare increase. Though, really, Izuku was just concerned about how to clean up the front of the shop.
"Hanami, huh," Izuku hummed as he grabbed broom, sweeping away the petals. "Maybe I'll go. It's been a while."
.
.
Izuku blinked owlishly, a stick of hanami dango halfway into his mouth.
"Kacchan? What are you doing here?"
"Ha? What, do you fucking own this place, dipshit? No? I didn't think so." Katsuki glared at him as he chewed on a sakura mochi, the usually imposing aura dulled by the petals caught in his hair.
Cute.
Even with the (very) adorable sight, there was an obvious air about him that prevented some big and small groups from even trying to ask if he was planning to share his spot.
Katsuki sharing? Preposterous.
"Well, you don't own this place either, Kacchan." Izuku hummed around the dango, plopping down beside the blonde, their shoulders brushing as he back against the tree.
With a few threats sliding harmlessly off of him, he wondered what more he could get away with any more than having a spot beside Katsuki.
Izuku bit off another dango, chewing and lost in thought. He chanced a glance at his reluctant companion, eyeing the just-opened container of temari sushi.
Could he…?
"Don't even fucking think about it, Deku."
Izuku flinched, eyes snapping to crimson ones. He smiled, opening his mouth to maybe tell his friend(?) about the wonders of sharing is caring, but the crackling palms led him to munch on what remained of his dango.
Stingy.
While mourning the loss of what could've been a taste of homemade sushi, Izuku finished off the last pink-colored dumpling. He chewed on it slowly, the tension from the day long gone as he looked at all the others.
This was… nice. Izuku spotted varying groups of friends playing all sorts of games and charades, some older ones with a can of beer or two in hand, children with drawing boards in hand, and even dogs sleeping on their owners' laps.
He felt a weight land on his head before sliding off, eyes widening in wonder at the perfectly intact cherry blossom in his hand.
Izuku smiled.
"The fuck are you looking like a crazy ass for? Your dango got dipped in something funny, ha?"
He held the blossom between his disfigured hands, turning to show it to Katsuki. He was still marveling at it, not noticing the closed distance between them with food containers set aside.
"Look, Kacchan," Izuku whispered. "It's a full blossom! Remember when we used to collect these after every hanami?"
Katsuki scoffed and leaned away in time for Izuku to look back up at him. "You mean when you kept crying your shitty ass off and begged me to share what I found?"
Izuku gasped. "Lies!"
It was true.
It was a game they invented when all the other kids their age were down with hay fever, only crimson and emerald flying after the each other in the race to salvage the most of the fallen blossoms.
Of course, with Izuku's two left feet then and Katsuki's too coordinated body, the game usually ended with no one as the winner, since–
"Well, you always shared with me so here, Kacchan," Izuku smiled, and placed the blossom on Katsuki's knee. "A flower for you!"
It was cheesy. Incredibly so. He regretted everything as soon as he did it, the words making him cringe that he wanted to uproot the tree they were leaning against and hide in the hole.
It hasn't been that long since Izuku could call Katsuki his friend(?). Not that long since they talked (fought) out whatever it was that drew a wedge between them, and definitely not that long since the awkward tension dissipated.
But this was… wow.
Izuku gaped, eyes blown wide at the laugh coming from the blonde.
"Ha," Katsuki snickered, his body still shaking from laughter, a hand on his stomach. "You're really such a goddamn nerd, Deku."
Laughing. Katsuki was… laughing?
It wasn't the usual derisive snort or the evil cackles the blonde would get started on when he played against Kaminari at the dorms or when he'd go to blast a villain's face off.
It's the laugh of a boy, just a few weeks away before he could be called a man– a sound that Izuku hadn't heard from him since… well, since never.
It's as if the heavens themselves were shocked, the gust of wind bringing down rains of intact blossoms on around them– a torrent of cherry spring. Izuku wouldn't fault them– he was shocked too.
But apparently not shaken enough to release a laugh of his own, the corner of his eyes crinkling and almost disappearing from how much his lips stretched wide.
Ah, this was nice.
"Want to bet I'll get more full blossoms than you, Kacchan?"
Katsuki's laughter died down, but that was fine (since Izuku already had the sound saved in every nerve in his brain), what with his friend(?) shooting him that grin.
The very one that made ran shivers down Izuku's back, the hair at the back of his neck raising– with anticipation, excitement, pleasure, he wasn't sure.
Just that it was Katsuki's grin and that was enough.
"You're fucking on, Deku."
When Izuku heard it, lent his ear to it, what shocked him the most wasn't the intricacies or the telltale intrigue imbued into it.
It's that in hearing the myth, it immediately made him think of golden hair that his fingers always itched to know whether they were softer than they looked, and a scowl that he wanted to see turn into a smile.
Oh. Oh dear.
"Izuku-kun? Something the matter?"
Yes. It seems he had, unknowingly but inevitably, realized he was very much in love with Bakugou Katsuki.
Izuku smiled at the old lady. "No, Kawano-san, I was just… um, yeah, it's nothing!"
It was definitely not nothing and he was pretty sure he'd hyperventilate and have a heart attack if not for the still-functioning part of his brain that was programmed to help people.
So even if the shrine grounds were already swept clean that the only trash left was him, Izuku latched onto that part of him and continued sweeping.
Maybe then he could sweep these… realizations under the rug, too.
"Hmm," The old miko gave Izuku a knowing smile. "Someone popped into your mind, didn't it? Someone you want to make a crown for."
"Eh?" Izuku laughed, his sweeping getting a bit frantic. "N-No! I was just– um, where'd that myth come from, anyway?"
It wasn't smooth, that attempt to steer the conversation away from something he's still conflicted on whether to unpack or push down. Instead of steer, it was akin to Izuku erecting several inches thick of a wall to prevent any more probing.
This was why he left Kawano-san as the last in his list (yes, he made one from the survey he sent out) of people to help. If the middle-aged storeowners were scary enough as it was, the old miko was on a whole other level.
If he didn't know any better, Izuku would've thought that she had a mind-reading quirk.
She chuckled, turning back to the omamori cloth before her. "Alright, alright, I won't push. I know how you youngsters get with your privacy and all."
Taking out a piece of wood, brush, and ink, she set to work, words still flowing from her and echoing in the empty shrine.
"I like to think that it came from the first hanami back in the Heian period when that one Emperor stopped his carriage to look upon the cherry blossoms. That, in a moment of weakness compelled by the kami, he seized a branch and wove a crown, pouring into it his woes of not being with his love."
The miko looked up, and smiled. "Romantic, no?"
The sound of sweeping had long stopped with only the rustling of omamori cloths and strings the only thing to be heard.
"Isn't it…" Izuku frowned, looking down at the trail of ants carrying petals of pink. "Sad? That someone so powerful couldn't do anything else but weave a crown he could never bear?"
That, pleading with the gods to hear your call to gain the heart of the one you love but could possibly never love you back was sad, instead of romantic?
Going home that day, with an unnamed omamori– its meaning and purpose kept secret by Kawano-san– Izuku realized she never answered him.
.
.
Izuku was a very weak person. He knew this, that fact only being cemented further when the path he chose turned crooked and almost made him fall.
He also knew this as he looked at the jar of cherry blossoms before him, the moon high in the sky slipping through his room's small window.
"Ha…" Izuku sighed, chuckling and fiddling with wily branches he'd picked up earlier. "What am I doing? What are you doing, Izuku?"
It's a good question to ask himself. It's the very thing he muttered as he frantically wrote down what he remembered from Kawano-san's story and instructions. It's a sort of mantra at this point that repeats over and over, Izuku not being able to muster an answer.
And now… here he was.
Izuku's phone buzzed on the nightstand, fingers reaching up to swipe it open.
alienqueen: happy birthday katsuki!
charger: lolol we should totally call him katsu-nii
nightmare: seconded. I always wanted an older brother
brickwall: ohh that's so manly! Happy bday katsu-nii!
theflash: welcome to the family katsu-nii. your speed will make the iida clan proud.
antiendeavor: i wish you don't end up crazy like touya, katsu-nii
rockstar: guys, he's an old man remember? Prolly sleeping already
moneybank: what she means is that you all have a few hours to write your last wills before he commits patricide.
moneybank: …for what it's worth, i'd love to have an older brother, katsu-nii
Well, at least his class could still laugh. He's grateful, though, really. The continuous discussion of family ethics and adoption papers did manage to distract him for a bit.
Just a bit. A minute at most, a second at worst.
After though, Izuku felt the weight of the things in his room– of how his hands (those traitors) already made the base, only the flowers winking at him from their jar left for the finish.
This is… this was bad.
Maybe it's this suffocating turmoil that made Izuku press the call button, the All Might clock beside his bed flashing 00:00 for a few seconds.
Ring, ring, ri–
Izuku held his breath, one hand stinging from clutching at the rugged and somewhat thorny woven flowerless crown in his lap.
"Deku? What the hell? It's–"
"Happy birthday, Kacchan. Sorry I called you, I–" Izuku paused, not really knowing what else to say; the reason for pressing the button unclear even to him.
He heard shuffling over the phone. "What's wrong, shitty nerd?"
"Eh?" Izuku laughed softly, fiddling again with the crown. "Nothing's wrong! Ah, really, I'm sorry for calling so suddenly, Kacchan! I'll end–"
"Don't fuck with me, dipshit," He shut his mouth at the growled out words, breath hitching until Katsuki sighed. "Fine, don't fucking tell me. I don't care."
The silence that followed was a painful reminder of how… new things were between them. That even with the increased banter and interaction, there were still hurdles to go through before they could even begin to go back to days before Izuku found out that the world was unfair.
"Ka–"
"Thanks. For the birthday greeting or whatever," Izuku heard shuffling again, a hitching of breath and a mutter. "Good night, stupid Deku."
He let out a breath, voice a whisper. "Good night, Kacchan."
No one ended the call. And that was a mistake Izuku couldn't find himself regretting at that moment (and probably never even in the future).
Because it's to Katsuki's soft breathing– to the man Izuku learned to attach the character of 'love' to– that he completed the crown.
With every disgruntled snort was a blossom carefully woven in between the wily branches from the very same tree they came from. An indiscernible mutter adding broken-off petals in the gaps, accenting the whole blossoms.
By the time Izuku finished the crown, his finger had already pressed on the end call button. Silent tears fell, joining the slivers of blood from scratches on his hands.
They say if you weave a crown of cherry blossoms and dedicate it to the one who holds your heart, you'll get to hold theirs.
"Kacchan."
Izuku held it with the utmost care his trembling hands could manage, smiling and whispering to it.
"Kacchan. Kacchan. Kacchan."
Katsuki.
What was love?
It's a question that nagged at the back of Izuku's mind sometimes, an itch that couldn't be scratched and a point he couldn't grasp no matter how far reached for it. It came and went often enough that Izuku took it in stride whenever it does slip in.
When he saw the way his mother blushed and tucked a stray hair behind her ear as she talks to his father over the phone, he thinks that's love.
When he saw Aizawa with his hair tied up, holding Eri's hand as they picked out groceries and the occasional sweet, he thinks that's love.
Even when he saw a stray cat, obviously a different breed and unrelated, feed and curl around abandoned kittens, he thinks that's love.
Still, Izuku knew that there was something more to it. Because the questions continued to nag at him, its presence making itself known day-by-day since he could begin to think of him and Katsuki as friends(?) again.
It nagged at him, quite relentlessly, especially when stilted conversations no longer ended up in an explosion of smoke and awkward silences.
The question, before a silent passenger in Izuku's brain, now manned the helm and made him feel… things. Things that someone definitely shouldn't feel for their friend(?).
"Deku-kun? You still there?"
"Eh?" Izuku dragged his eyes away, blinking to focus back on the blobs he eventually identified as his friend. "Ah, yes! Sorry, I was just… distracted."
He rubbed at his chest, the action an attempt to quell the warmth pooling in it, flexing his fingers around the cup containing questionable liquid. "It's my first time drinking so I'm a bit out of it. I'm sorry!"
Uraraka giggled and patted his thigh. "No need to apologize, Deku-kun! I'm pretty sure half the class are in the same boat right now."
He knew. Izuku had been looking around since his cup was refilled for the third time, the buzz spreading throughout his body making the usual shame of being caught staring unimportant.
"Mhm," He laughed lightly, taking another sip. "I think I saw the birthday boy juggling the pots and pans from the kitchen."
That wasn't a lie. Izuku did see Kaminari and the others laughing, with even Momo being supportive enough to drunkenly produce contorted pots and pans.
What he didn't mention was that in the past hours of getting the first taste of an adult drink in celebration of Shoji's birthday, Izuku had been looking at one thing only.
Just one. Nothing worth to take note of enough to share with.
Absentmindedly, Izuku still heard Uraraka chatting, the hand on his thigh not being drawn back. Still, even with their bare legs brushing against each other, he took no notice of all of that.
Because there's this… something that Izuku couldn't tear his eyes away from. Even if he did, like earlier, they'd always get pulled back like a moth to the flame.
"No fucking way you could do that, shitty Ei."
It's really nothing. Just… just Katsuki; his friend(?) who hadn't stopped smiling uncaringly since the party lights turned their lounge into a pseudo club.
Izuku watched, the alcohol in his hand no longer seeming to be the only cause of the fluttering in his chest when Katsuki locked eyes with him.
.
.
This thing was… well, a problem. A very big one, if Izuku wanted be dramatic. But, really, it was no big deal. No need to make a fuss over it!
He stiffened when strands of blonde hair tickled against his neck as Katsuki moved, a few inches the only thing left before Izuku's soul would leave his body.
A few inches that he was in a great conflict over: should he close that distance and satiate his curiosity on what Katsuki's lips would feel like on his skin? Or should he do what a friend(?) should and wake him before they both embarrass each other?
Izuku… was at a loss.
"Ngh." Katsuki groaned, eyes squinted shut as he shifted. He mumbled something incorrigible, moving his arms to wrap around Izuku's waist.
Oh. Well. Guess he didn't have to do anything, after all.
Izuku bit his lip, hesitating for a poor excuse of a second, before lifting his arms to wrap around Katsuki. He shifted them, the position on the floor with their backs against the couch uncomfortable to begin with, but he made do.
It wasn't good to make Katsuki wake up with an aching body or stiff neck right? Right.
That's what Izuku repeated over and over as he grabbed a random blanket that Yaoyorozu passed around earlier, covering them with it.
It's for Kacchan's sake.
He repeated this as his arms around Katsuki tightened, the other's face settled into the crook of Izuku's neck. At the rearrangement Izuku stiffened before relaxing (trying, anyway), letting his breathing even out to match Katsuki's and not really minding the spiky locks tickling his face.
It's for Kacchan.
"Mhm," Katsuki mumbled against his neck, the smell of alcohol on his breath nothing compared to the warmth it– everything exuded. "Shitty Deku…"
Izuku let out a shaky breath.
He had honestly forgotten all about the crown until he woke up one day, opening his eyes to the sight of petals falling from the wall hook he hung it on.
Izuku spent a few minutes longer in bed because of that, his gaze blearily following them– no longer soft and vibrant– as they fell one by one.
Well… of course it wouldn't last forever. Cherry blossoms never last long, he knows. That's why there was a whole season the Japanese dedicated to it– to cherish what would only last for a short time.
So Izuku couldn't understand where the slips of silent tears came from, but he let them go.
With every petal that fell, a tear followed. Blossoms cracking into pieces before joining its siblings on the carpeted floor, a hitching of breath would follow.
The whole endeavor was strangely cathartic, with every wilting petal a sign that these… feelings weren't meant to be.
He wondered if it was a sign.
"Izuku? Are you up yet?" Izuku blinked the sleep away from him at the soft knock on his door, rubbing at his swollen eyes.
"Katsuki-kun's already here!"
Eh?
"What? Mom, what are you–"
He hears her sigh from the door, feet shuffling away with her voice getting farther. "Oh good, you're awake. Go wash up and grab breakfast, sweetie! He's been waiting for a while, already."
Eh?
"Wait, mom! What–" Izuku scrambled out of bed, blankets haphazardly thrown off, knocking a few school books to join them. He ignored the toes– all of them, probably– that banged against the legs of the bed as he threw his door open.
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN KACCHAN'S HERE?!"
.
.
So… Izuku's dead. Well, he thinks he was because if he wasn't then he really might go into cardiac arrest or just… combust and leave his mother and All Might to gather his ashes.
Huh. Would life as pieces of ash really be so bad?
"Stop your shitty gawking and let's fucking go already, Deku."
His hand suddenly turned incredibly warm, making Izuku frown and look down because he's sure that heat waves don't happen in spring so what–
Oh. Oh.
"Kacchan," Izuku croaked out, voice a little shaky from pretty much everything that's happened this morning. "Wh– why are you holding my hand?"
Honestly, it's a feat in itself that he could manage to string words together even with the incessant internal breakdown he was having.
Izuku knew he thought about Katsuki every minute of every day, but the constant kacchanhandohmygodkacchanhandminewarmohmygod was a bit too much even for him.
Katsuki glanced at him, his usual scowl soon becoming Izuku's saving grace for all the weird things happening in his life. "Ha? You telling me I fucking can't?"
"Uh, no? Ah, I mean, yes? Uh, what– I'm– you–"
The blonde let out a long-drawn sigh, pulling his gaze away when the sign turned red. "I have zero fucking patience for your sleep-deprived mouth, nerd. Stop asking stupid questions or I'm shoving them up your ass."
While Izuku wanted to very much go on a tirade about how his questions were very much not stupid and actually essential to maintain his sanity, he didn't get to when Katsuki's hand moved–
"Stick with me, alright? Can't have you getting lost on my goddamn watch, Deku."
There were a lot of things he could've said then. Maybe demand an actual explanation as to why, when Izuku basically inhaled his mother's grilled sawara and stumbled out of their apartment with his misbuttoned shirt, Katsuki was waiting for him.
Katsuki. Bakugou Katsuki who had never waited for Izuku to go to school together– in this case, the pick-up point for their class– in both of their lives.
"Okay, Kacchan."
But all those rational demands practically melted into a puddle of goo, warmed and heated by Katsuki's hands intertwined with his.
Even as they boarded the shuttle bus UA arranged in various pick-up points for the students, Katsuki didn't let go and neither did Izuku.
Even though Izuku knew, that as soon as they arrived in UA to be bombarded by the start of their final year as heroes-in-training, that this… thing would end, he found himself not caring.
He carefully tilted his head, smiling as he saw Katsuki sleeping, uncaring of the music from an unknown band blasting music from their shared earbuds.
Izuku squeezed their intertwined fingers, scarred ones stroking hardened blisters on Katsuki's palm.
"I'll wake you up when we get there, Kacchan."
It's fine. He'll treasure this.
Izuku was frozen-still, eyes wide with his mouth partly open in a gasp.
"I… you… wha…"
Absentmindedly, he registered the shocked silence that befell the room, silently grateful that what just happened wasn't his imagination.
Because if it was, then Izuku really, really needed to get more sleep if the lack of it made him imagine… this.
Katsuki smirked against Izuku's cheek, the brush of lips and warm breath making him shiver from the k-ki–
"Oh my god! Was that a kiss?!"
"It was! It totally was!"
"I don't know if this is the best or last day of my life, but finally!"
It's with a final squeeze of Izuku's hand and a whisper of 'don't make me wait for you at training, nerd' that Katsuki finally stepped back and let go.
This was… He didn't…
What was happening?
Izuku was still staring in shock as his eyes followed Katsuki nonchalantly walking to the elevator. It's crimson eyes glinting with mirth and a smug smile that he saw before the doors closed.
Leaving Izuku to the ruthless mercy of teenagers-almost-adult heroes-in-training who just witnessed the most mind-boggling event that probably topped the USJ attack.
He would know. It was Izuku's mind who was still frozen, unable to process the tingly feeling on his cheek and the remnants of smokey sweat on his hand.
"Dude!" Kirishima laughed, clapping Izuku on the back. "When did this happen, man? Wow, that's the first time I saw Katsuki smile like that."
"I–"
"Deku-kun! Are you alright? Is he blackmailing you or something?"
"Ochako-chan!"
"What?" Uraraka frowned, pushing Izuku behind her as if in a gesture of protection. "You all saw how Deku-kun reacted! What if it wasn't consensual on his part!"
"Um–"
Ashido huffed, crossing her arms. "Are your eyes not working? Look at him! He's still blushing and touching where Bakugou kissed him like a shoujo manga girl!"
Eh? He was?
Izuku flushed, the blush deepening when he did notice his fingers that brushed gently against the spot- that still hadn't stopped tingling. The lingering scent of burnt sugar and smoke from when Katsuki cuddl– leaned against him in the shuttle bus wasn't helping with making his heart calm down either.
"Aw," Aoyama cooed as Izuku covered his face with his hands. "Look at him, going all embarassed because if his beau."
Beau? What? What was happening? And more importantly…
"What," Izuku choked out, peeping through his fingers. "What do you guys mean, 'finally'?"
His mind was still whirling with all sorts of questions, as if the mysteries of the universe was suddenly something he needed to solve (or else he'd die). He was still flitting his gaze back to the closed elevator doors, expecting… well, he wasn't sure.
Izuku expected a lot of things today. He expected to wake up to his All Might alarm, sleepily wash up and eat his breakfast at a normal pace, pack his bags and head off to the pick-up point, and maybe get some sleep on the shuttle bus to UA.
Never– in reality anyway– did he expect stepping out of his apartment to the sight of Katsuki casually waiting for him as if it was the most natural thing to do. The hand-holding and sharing music while the other slept beside him was supposed to be just a pipe dream!
Just a dream! A pervertion of reality and the feelings for his friend(?) that he'd been trying all spring break to bury under part-time jobs and training.
So, why… Just why was he expecting Katsuki to come out of those doors again, and give him smiles and kisses he knew the blonde would never give him?
.
.
"Kacchan, you're… waiting for me."
Izuku couldn't help the words be tinged with this sense of disbelieving awe, his face probably in a permanent state of shock by now.
Katsuki raised his brow and pushed off from the pillar, a sheen of sweat already covering his exposed arms from the tank top, glands probably overcompensating for the slightly cold spring air.
"What, did you fucking forget about that spar thing you kept nagging me about over the break?"
"Ah, no, I didn't, but…" That was before you picked me up, held my hand all the way to the dorms, and kissed me, making some of my braincells die.
At Izuku's silence, Katsuki sighed, scratching the back of his head and looking to the side. "Fucking– why the hell are you acting so weird, Deku? Dammit, fine, I'll just go train on my own–"
"Wait!"
Okay, maybe screaming at his friend(?) wasn't the best course of action especially with everything most definitely not making any sense.
He knew that the best course of action was to clarify everything with Katsuki! Make it clear that if there was a decision where they suddenly passed the line of being friends(?), then Izuku wasn't informed.
Sure, he liked surprises but not the kind that made his heart twist uncomfortably while butterflies fluttered in his stomach at the same time.
But… Katsuki looked sad, dejected even and, well…
Izuku stretched his legs, keeping his eyes on the blonde who did the same. Water bottles and towels were set aside on the benches, door to the gymnasium left an inch open.
He smiled, getting into position. "Ready, Kacchan?"
"Ready to kick your ass? Always, nerd."
Izuku loved getting into the bottom of things– analyzing everything until it finally made sense to him. He thinks that if All Might hadn't approached him on that fateful day, he would've become a quirk analyst of a sort.
Above that finger-twitching instinct though, he loved making Katsuki's captivating crimson eyes light up– even if it meant pushing aside the questions.
Anything for Kacchan.
Izuku closed the door behind him, managing a few steps into his room before his legs buckled and he crashed to the floor.
It hurt.
His muscles ached from the hour-long spar, reminding him that doing manual labor was definitely not the same as executing combat moves made to take down villains twice his size.
"Ngh." Izuku groaned, pulling himself up to a sitting position on the heated floor, legs stretched out with his toes wiggling.
It hurt.
"Ah… why does it hurt so much?" He sighed, leaning back against the bed and throwing an arm over his eyes, plunging him into darkness. Izuku took in a shaky breath, letting it out after three beats before repeating.
In and out. In and out. In and out.
"Shit, ah," Izuku choked, pressing his arm over his eyes in hopes that maybe nothing would slip past it. "Dammit…"
He knew he was a crybaby. The rate at which he constantly shed tears, big or small, was enough to solve drought, according to one of Iida's drunken ramblings.
Still, Izuku didn't like crying. It left him feeling powerless, with the tears and sobs pouring out of him bringing with it a part of himself that he never wanted to reveal.
Crying reminded him of broken dreams, of stolen comrades, of eyes losing the light in their eyes, and of death spearing through the love of his life.
"Ha… Really, this is…" Izuku laughed, the sound gargled with sobs. "This is cruel, kami-sama."
The phone in his hand, the very same he hadn't let go of buzzed. Swallowing around the lump in his throat, Izuku pulled his arm away to look at it.
Kacchan: oi. Deku.
Kacchan: [sent a photo]
Kacchan: you left your shitty shirt with my shit.
Kacchan: didn't know I kissed that good.
Ah. Yeah, he can't… he can't handle this.
Kacchan: fr tho i'm throwing this shit away.
Kacchan: you'd look better in my clothes, anyway
There was a loud thud followed by a crash.
Izuku wanted to scream– to let out the frustrations of the unfairness of the world from his lungs. He wanted to claw at his chest, scratches deepening until he could stop the torture his heart was going through.
He stared, tears silently streaming down his face, at the cracked screen of his phone, the bright glow caressing wilting petals and unravelling bindings of the crown.
"I'm sorry, Kacchan."
Maybe he shouldn't've gone to the hanami that day.
.
.
When Izuku saw it, his heart stopped.
"Kacchan… what's–" He swallowed around his dry throat, his sweaty shirt dropping on the locker bench. "What's that?"
Katsuki turned to him, frowning. "Ha? What's what?"
Izuku took a step forward, and then another. He continued, the sound of his sneakers loud against the tiles until they stopped. Scarred hands went up, fingers trailing along skin covered in a sheen of sweat.
The muscles under his touch tensed, Katsuki hitching his breath when a finger grazed his chest. "Deku, what are yo–"
"This, Kacchan," He didn't tear his gaze away, even with crimson eyes burning their gaze into the side of his face. "What is this?"
It was a cherry blossom tree.
Izuku stepped closer until scents of burnt sugar began mixing in with petrichor, breaths mingling. He splayed out his hand on Katsuki's abdomen, the other lightly tracing the intricate lines of deep black branches from his collarbone down to his hips.
Izuku looked up from the blossoms of soft pink and rich magenta, emerald meeting crimson. "What is this, Kacchan?"
He wanted to see recognition in those eyes. A hint of understanding at what Izuku was pointing at, that he knew would be followed by a gruff explanation– maybe even a trademark swear.
Katsuki grabbed a hold of Izuku's wrists, not pulling them away– just holding, calloused fingertips softly tracing indiscernible markings at the pulse.
"What the hell are you talking about, Izuku?"
Ah. This was bad. This was… this wasn't good. No, no, no–
Katsuki shuddered under Izuku's tightening grip, looking at him with hooded eyes, mouth slightly agape and letting out soft pants. Crimson eyes flickered to Izuku's lips, licking his own.
"Fuck it."
He shouldn't do this.
Izuku pushed them back, swallowing Katsuki's groan when the blonde hit the lockers. His hands roamed, mapping sinews of skin and muscle that tensed when he'd nip at Katsuki's lip, tongue exploring and devouring.
He needed to stop.
"Ha, Fuck, Izu– ah!" Katsuki moaned, breaking the kiss as he writhed under Izuku's touch, scarred fingers pinching sensitive buds, the other raking lines down Katsuki's back. "Shit, wanted you, ha, wanted you all fucking day."
Stop.
"Kacchan, Kacchan." Izuku dove in for another kiss, not getting enough of Katsuki's taste, Katsuki's moans, Katsuki's love–
STOP.
He pulled away, the both of them breathing heavily with eyes dark– no hint of the color it once had. Izuku rested his forehead on Katsuki's, hands still gripping at hips tainted with something unworldly– blasphemous, imaginary.
When Katsuki leaned to close the gap again, Izuku almost let him. When Katsuki's hands tangled and pulled at his hair, he almost let himself be led in again.
Almost.
"Sorry, Kacchan," He brushed his lips between the furrow of Katsuki's brows, voice almost breaking when it smoothened instantaneously. "I'm tired and everything hurts."
Izuku smiled, hands trailing the blossoms and branches on Katsuki's skin before letting go.
He took a step back, the high and adrenaline of attaining something forbidden slowly ebbing away into fear that made him want to run away– to run before he succumbed to his want to stay.
Katsuki stared at him, body still flushed and muscles twitching before sighing. "Fine."
Izuku relaxed, an excuse ready to get him away before he could do anything els–
"That's," Katsuki pulled away, nipping at Izuku's lip one last time. "For riling me up, you shitnerd."
Oh. Oh dear.
Records show that during the reign of Emperor Saga back in the Heian Period, a man of unknown class and name would be seen walking with His Imperial Highness during late March to early April.
It is only pure speculation that this man was his lover, testimonies alluding him to a ghost as he disappears as abruptly as he appears.
Emperor Saga is seen, however, in the days before the man appears, gathering cherry blossoms at the cusp of their bloom. Attendants have shared their observations of the candle lighting up His Imperial Highness' quarters until the strike of midnight.
According to them, he would spend these hours weaving crowns from the blossoms, uttering all the while the name of the man who would then appear a few days after.
Katsuki frowned, turning off the stove as he plated the omurice. "What's with your face, nerd?"
"Eh? My face?"
"No, your foot. Of course, you're fucking face. That's what I said," Katsuki huffed, swiftly pouring out ketchup before sliding it over to Izuku. "You look like shit."
Ah. Well, he guessed that's the most accurate description of how Izuku was feeling too. Though he thinks that that wasn't enough comparison to match to how he was really feeling.
"Mhm," Izuku smiled, the redness of his eyes hidden by dark circles that could rival Shinsou's. "Just had trouble sleeping last night, Kacchan. I'm fine."
He wasn't.
The whirlwind of information and feelings of dread and guilt hadn't settled down since last night, not with the hours spent scouring every corner of the web for information on… the thing.
Izuku's eyes fell on the slip of skin that showed from Katsuki's shirt that rode up, catching sight of hints of black lines and spots of pink and magenta.
The 'thing'.
It's a vague term to call what made Izuku's world turn upside down, his dreams that he never wanted to speak about turning into reality.
"Oi. Open your mouth."
"Eh? What is it Ka– mmph!"
Katsuki narrowed his eyes, his free hand squishing Izuku's cheeks. "Bite, chew, and swallow, nerd. Don't you dare throw it up or I'll kill you."
As Izuku chewed under Katsuki's watchful glare, the thought that even if it was poison, he would still wholeheartedly trust the other passed through his mind, making his insides flutter.
Due to glee or maybe due to actual poison, Izuku didn't want to dive too deep about it.
Dreams coming true.
It was. A dream come true, he means.
This… scene; where everyone else were still asleep at the early hour, only Katsuki and Izuku basking in a peaceful silence that people often took for granted. It was a domestic sight that always made Izuku wake up, smiling into his blankets.
And now it was real. Happening.
Now, with the cherry blossoms answering Izuku's plea, everything was becoming real. The soft nudges against his hand as a signal to open up again and take another bite. The fond exasperated look on Katsuki's face as he swiped stray ketchup or rice that got stuck at the corner of his lips.
"The hell are you smiling like an idiot for?"
Izuku's smile widened at that. "You're smiling too, Kacchan. Like an idiot."
"Am fucking not."
"Am too."
"Fucking not, idiot."
"Your idiot, Kacchan."
Ah, this was really bad. Really, really bad.
He should say something to Katsuki, maybe show him the sparse pieces of information he found in buried forums. Or better yet he should just… Yeah, Izuku should just stop this.
Create distance.
Katsuki blushed, scooping out another serving and shoving it in Izuku's face. "Shut– ugh, you shitty nerd. Stop being so– fuck, just eat your goddamn omurice."
Cute.
Katsuki was cute. This Katsuki– the one who looked at Izuku with dark eyes and gave him the sweetest of sounds at the slightest touch, squeeze, and kiss. This Katsuki– who was still as brash as the friend(?) Izuku knew but allowed an Izuku-shaped hole in the walls he erected.
"Kacchan… can I kiss you?"
This Katsuki– who gulped nervously, a pretty blush spreading from his neck up, before setting down the spoon and going around the table.
Katsuki– Kacchan– who shivered and bit his lip when Izuku hitched his shirt up– just a bit. This Katsuki who melted into his hold as scarred fingers traced the lines of black and blossoms that no one else could see.
"You don't need to ask, idiot." You're my idiot, remember? And I'm yours.
Izuku shut his eyes close into the kiss, lips moving to explore, to draw out– to devour this dream he'd been handed. He slipped in his tongue, shivering when Katsuki's met his– both tasting and tasting until Katsuki's taste became Izuku's.
It's addicting. This 'thing.'
Scary.
Katsuki laughed when they broke apart, calloused hands playing with green curls and nails lightly scraping at the shaved underside.
"Guess I should cook more often, huh, nerd?"
It's everything. It's all Izuku wanted and more– more than the dreams that forced him to wake up and face reality once more.
It's…
Temporary.
.
.
"So, you and Bakugou, huh. You're really," Uraraka bit her lip. "Together."
There's this automatic impulse now in Izuku to stand at attention, turn his head, and have every braincell and nerve he had to be at the ready when someone even so much as mentioned Katsuki's name.
It was stupidly pathetic and Izuku wouldn't trade such an ingrained instinct for anything else in the world.
"Ah," Izuku laughed, scratching the back of his head as he glanced off past his group of friends, eyes latching onto that striking tone of gold. "Yeah, I guess we are."
Katsuki was scowling, mouth moving in what looked like threats of death and destruction to Ashido and the others who were relentless in their poking– most likely about the same thing Izuku was being hounded for too.
He just wished they didn't do it in the library. Izuku kind of felt bad for the librarian.
…Kind of because the new rule against muttering was just plain discriminatory at this point.
"Oh."
Hm? Izuku tilted his head, attention shifting back to a sullen-looking Uraraka. He glanced at the others, confusion evident in his features.
Did he say something wrong?
"It's… kind of sudden, don't you think?" Iida cleared his throat, eyes flitting between Izuku and Uraraka– who now seemed to be being consoled by Asui?
Did Izuku miss something?
He opened his mouth to answer, the speech he'd practiced from the other night already ready to cover all bases–
"Not really," Todoroki piped in, flipping another page in a book he'd picked out– Encyclopedia of Quirks. "They've been dancing around each other since after Kamino, so it isn't surprising."
Eh?
"It's… not? I– what do– dancing around each other, wha–"
The implications of his best friend's casual remark made his mind whirl again, events of the past three years flashing at a lightning pace.
Was it really that easy to tell people that he and Katsuki were together? No need for convoluted stories of their first kiss or who between them asked the other out?
That easy?
Izuku gulped. "Yes, I… agree with Shouto-kun. It wasn't, um… yeah."
It definitely wasn't Izuku's most elegant moment, though that word didn't really fit him anyway. He was more of a rambling guy– a, uh, word vomit nerd as Katsuki called him multiple times.
But it was apparently a trait, this befuddlement of his, that everyone else seemed to… understand? That they saw his loss of words and lack of proper articulation as a supportive factor in proving that yes, he and Kacchan were together.
Uraraka sniffled, giving Izuku a shaky smile. "Okay, Deku-kun, I-I'm happy for you two."
Izuku blinked in surprise before returning her smile, hand reaching over to squeeze hers. It was nice; to have this kind of support from the people who'd been supporting him for so long.
"Thank you, Ochako-chan, I…" Izuku thought of Katsuki's small laugh that went through his whole body that morning, crimson eyes soft for him.
"I'm happy too."
I'm happy that until the flowers fall, I can live out this dream of mine.
"Kacchan, do you know why the hanami only lasts for two weeks?"
"Are you making fucking small talk right now, Deku? Cuz I can give you a whole ass lecture as to why I don't give a shit."
"Mhm… no, I'm really just curious."
"You call yourself a nerd but you don't even know that? Lame."
"You're the one who started calling me a nerd, Kacchan. And I'm asking you because you know everything!"
"…Damn right I do. Fucking fine. It's cuz that's only how long the shitty flowers reach the peak bloom, alright? Now shut the fuck up and let me beat your ass in collecting these shits."
"Heh, not if I collect more, Kacchan!"
Izuku moaned, hands scrambling for the glass of cold water that the owner mercifully handed to him. He chugged it down, the sudden drop in temperature making him wince and sigh in relief.
"God, you're so fucking lame, Deku. Can't even handle a little heat?"
He glared at Katsuki, his friend(?) casually finishing off his bowl, not a drop of the spicy broth left in it.
"You–!" Izuku scowled, nursing his tongue and mouth with cold water. "You twicked mwe, Kwacchan!"
He couldn't believe this! Here he was, excited with a figurative tail wagging when Katsuki declared they had a date, but what did Izuku get?
Deception, that's what.
Katsuki smirked, popping a piece of gyoza into his mouth. "No I fucking didn't, nerd. Not my fault you thought it was a date."
He swallowed the now-warm water, pointing his chopsticks accusingly at the blonde. "Of course I thought it was a date! You told me we were 'going out'."
"Yeah," He swiped Izuku's cola, taking big gulps. "Told you we were going out to kick some shitty challenge's ass."
Well! Now that was just unfair. How did Katsuki expect him to listen to the rest of the sentence when thoughts of kacchandateohmygodholdhandsdatedate immediately ran rampant in his mind?
That was just impossible and Katsuki of all people should've known that. Which the blonde probably did considering he was laughing his ass off when the owner set down a bowl of ramen that definitely did not look like the shoyu he ordered.
Cruel.
But that'd be calling the kettle black on Izuku's part if he pointed out this little deception that didn't even hold a candle or stand in the same ring enough to be compared to, well…
"I ain't giving you my karaage, Deku. No matter how hard you use those shitty puppy eyes."
It didn't compare, not one bit, to the past few days that Izuku crossed out in his calendar, counting and waiting– loving and desiring, deceiving and manipulating.
Was this a punishment or a blessing? A punishment for attempting to tie down hearts meant to roam free. A blessing for giving Izuku this– a taste, a whiff, a dip in the water.
Whatever it was, and whatever it would be in the future, he… He just wanted to live this dream.
Izuku smiled, reaching over to Katsuki's hand. He hummed as he flipped it over, fingers gently tracing callouses that mirrored his own. He did it until the tingling from his fingertips spread across his palms before finally slotting his hand onto Katsuki's.
Perfect.
Katsuki was perfect.
He looked up, heart stuttering at Katsuki's awe-filled face as he stared at their hands. Izuku watched– entranced as the other was– as Katsuki's features softened, fingers wiggling against Izuku's, squeezing experimentally.
Izuku was still staring when Katsuki brought his gaze back to his, the food on the table and chattering of the restaurant turning into nothing but muted buzzing to his ears.
"Mhm, I don't really want karaage…" He smiled. "Can I just stare at you, Kacchan?"
"Wha– what the fuck? Why, you weir–"
"Because you're pretty," Izuku laughed, looking at Katsuki and seeing his world. "My pretty Kacchan."
It didn't matter if it was punishment or a blessing; no matter if it was temporary or permanent, reality or a vivid dream. All that mattered was having this moment, this imperfect picturesque memory of being able to Bakugou Katsuki his.
.
.
When he reached to press the button for the 2nd floor, a hand stopped him. Izuku shot Katsuki a confused look, the doors shutting and the metal box whirring as it carried them up.
To Katsuki's floor.
"Uh, Kacchan? My room's on the second floor, you know?"
Katsuki gritted his teeth, glaring at Izuku though his hold on Izuku's hand was gentle and warm. "As much as you shits keep calling me old man, of course I fucking remember where your room is."
Izuku frowned, brows furrowing. If Katsuki knew where his room was, then why stop him from going back? The smell of ramen and karaage still stuck to his clothes, so he really needed to shower… The smell isn't exactly pleasant and Katsuki was really sensitive to that kind of thing so why drag Izuku to his roo–
Oh.
Well. Now he just felt stupid.
He bit his lip, trying and failing to keep his smile at bay. Which probably didn't go unnoticed by the sudden bone-crushing grip on Izuku's hand.
Ow.
Izuku pouted. "Kacchan, that hurt!"
"Your hand's practically dead already, nerd. Be fucking thankful you could still feel shit with it."
Oh? That's interesting.
Izuku turned slightly to Katsuki, pout turning into a ghost of a smirk dancing on his lips. He leaned closer– just a few steps, nothing surprising– pulling on their hands to prevent the other from taking that step back.
"Oh?" His breath fanned Katsuki's face, lips brushing lightly against the other's cheek. He turned their intertwined hands, scarred ones moving down to feel the rapid beat of Katsuki's pulse.
"I can feel your heartbeat just fine, Kacchan."
The doors opened and Izuku pulled away, laughing as he ran, having a few seconds of a shell-shocked Katsuki before the explosion came.
This was… nice. It was fun and exhilarating, being able to do this sort of thing without a worry in the world– not of the wrong thing being said, not of stilted conversation and tense silences.
Building back a friendship that had been intentionally burned at one end and unintentionally neglected at the other wasn't easy; not by a long shot. A decade's worth of misunderstandings had to be waded through, Izuku not knowing whether the next step would lead to higher ground or a plunge into the raging waters.
So this easiness was a mercy; perhaps a glimpse of what Izuku and Katsuki could be with explosions managed, actions forwent for words, and walls torn for each other.
"Oi. Keep your eyes on me, Deku."
This… thing; the feeling of Katsuki's hands peeling away every layer of Izuku's clothes, calloused hands mapping scars and muscle. This was…
"Kacchan, Kacchan." Izuku whispered between kisses, lips and tongue sliding against each other, the tingle and spark of earlier's challenge spreading– intoxicating.
He couldn't get enough of this– won't get enough of the sight Katsuki made for him and only him; body flushed, chest heaving for breath, and oh–
Katsuki's eyes that drew Izuku in for every kiss that he told himself would be the last; crimson that struggled to keep open even as pale lashes fluttered against smooth skin.
"Ah! Fuck, ha, Izu–" Katsuki panted, hands that could propel anyone to the skies holding on to Izuku– depending on him to ground the other.
Beautiful.
"Pretty," Izuku murmured against quivering muscles, lips leaving reverent kisses on the the blossoms that dwindled in number day-by-day, scarred fingers brushing against lines of black that dipped further.
"Kacchan's so pretty," He bit down on a sensitive nub, groaning at the hands that tugged at green locks. "My pretty Kacchan."
"S-s-shut up, you– ah!– nerd," Katsuki growled, pulling at him until they were eye to eye. "Stop saying embarrassing shit."
"Mhm," Izuku laughed as he dove in for a kiss; another taste, another moan. "You like it, though."
His hands were splayed out on Katsuki's chest, the other drawing circles at the waistband of the other's boxers. Izuku sighed, resting beside the blonde, noses brushing against each other.
"You know your heart skips a beat when I call you that, Kacchan?"
Izuku's eyes fluttered close at the hand that cupped his face, nuzzling into it; breathing in the scent of burnt sugar and smoke. He smiled at every stroke on his face, not having to open his eyes to know that Katsuki was taking him in; breathing him in.
He didn't have to because Izuku was doing the same– letting his hands memorize every expanse of skin, every little and big scar that accumulated.
"Then," Izuku opened his eyes, breath hitching at seeing Katsuki's boyish grin. "You're my pretty Deku, huh."
Ah. Really.
This was…
Izuku smiled, scarred hands getting lost in the beat of Katsuki's heart– the heart that he could call his for a few more days.
"Your Deku, Kacchan."
Perfect.
So… apparently this was happening. Izuku didn't even know this was still a thing apart from the movies and shows he saw on TV. Ah, what was this called again?
"Are you all… giving me the shovel talk?"
Right! That. Huh. Of all the things to happen this week, this was definitely another curveball Izuku didn't expect.
Of course if someone told him he'd be ambushed in the dorm elevators, dragged to the 5th floor, and now surrounded by the dubbed Bakusquad™ last week, Izuku would've just laughed.
Now, it seems, laughing in this tense atmosphere wasn't going to be the best response.
Six pairs of eyes looked at him, making Izuku revert back to his age-old instinct of curling into himself and avoiding eye contact. Habits died hard, after all.
Kirishima smiled, squeezing Izuku's shoulder. "No, man! We just wanted to talk! You know, friends to the boyfriend. No shovel talking needed, bro."
Then he frowned. "Unless… there's a need for it?"
In all of Izuku's interactions with the redhead over the years, he had grown from petty jealousy to awe-filled respect at the boy's uncanny ability to barrel his way into Katsuki's space.
Maybe it's time to add 'can get pretty scary' to that assessment, Izuku thinks.
He gulped, offering a shaky smile. "N-No! No need for that!"
Should Izuku have added a 'sir' at the end? Maybe. Actually, it might not be too late to follow that up–
"Guys, stop it already. Blasty's going to kill us if he finds out we made his boyfie faint from overthinking." Jirou clicked her tongue and glared at the others, looking over at Izuku and smiling.
"Sorry for this Midoriya. We just… well, we're his friends you know?"
"Sadly– oof!"
"Yeah," Sero grinned as Kaminari groaned from Satou's hit. "We know you're a good guy, man. Everyone knows that. But–"
"–I'm sure you know, more than all of us, how Bakugou is about… feelings. And, I can't believe I'm saying this but," Ashido took in a breath, grimacing. "He's really… delicate."
Delicate? Katsuki? Those words were… strangely fitting. It made sense, in a roundabout way that Izuku could only understand because of the past few days he'd been given this gift.
Katsuki was a lot of things, Izuku discovered. He was picky when it came to the ingredients others would bring for sukiyaki, but careless when it came to the clothes he'd wear.
It's a secret– a precious one he'd cherish– that the blonde was clingy when they were behind closed doors or basking in silence with just them. Sometimes, when they studied together, Izuku'd already find Katsuki nuzzled against his side, craving any sort of contact– fingers playing with the shaved underside of his hair, toes wiggling against Izuku's, and the occasional kiss.
Delicate.
Yeah, that fit.
"We know we ultimately can't say shit about what goes on with you two, but," Kirishima's eyes burned through Izuku's. "Please don't hurt him, Midoriya."
He looked around, seeing the same somber and serious expression on all their faces– even Kaminari, who was still clutching at his stomach that Satou elbowed earlier.
Oh.
Izuku smiled, eyes tearing up. "I won't. I'll never hurt, Kacchan."
I can't promise that he won't hurt me; that my heart won't be broken when this thing passes and the last blossom falls.
"Oh, dude! Don't cry! Gah, now we're all crying, dammit."
Hurting Katsuki? What a preposterous thought.
.
.
"They fucking did what?"
Izuku hummed, pressing on the pedal to reload before he took his aim again. "Oh! They just talked to me. Gave me the shovel talk."
He shot a few targets, tilting his hand to change weapons. "It was cute, actually. One minute they were telling me different ways Satou-kun could fold me into a pretzel–"
Katsuki choked, cursing as a zombie slipped past his barrage. "What?"
"–and the next they were crying and offering a getaway car if I 'couldn't take Blasty' anymore." Izuku laughed, quickly firing off dead shots before the screen froze, the game ending.
He placed the plastic gun back on the console, glancing at Katsuki's fuming form when his screen flashed red before turning black.
Ah. Katsuki was really cute. Cute, cute, adorable.
"I'm going to fucking bash their heads in and dump their bodies in Abe River."
Yeah, really cute.
Izuku was still softly laughing and Katsuki grumbling about 'meddlesome shitty extras who should be fucking praying now' as they made their way out of the arcade, with almost every game decimated by 'DK' or 'KEM'.
He was pretty everyone let out a collective sigh of relief when they finally left. Rude. It wasn't his fault that the hand-eye coordination and fast-track strategic minds honed by UA made almost all games– even the claw machine– too easy.
It was still fun to see Katsuki gloat at the prize exchange booth as they traded in their baskets of tickets, though– a disposable film camera for Katsuki, and an unofficial but still cute 3-foot All Might stuffed toy for himself.
Katsuki's prize was a curious thing, though.
"Ehh, I never took you for someone who liked photography, Kacchan. I thought you hated having your picture taken?"
Katsuki grunted, a wooden ice cream spoon hanging from his mouth, the cup balanced on his lap while his hands tinkered with the device. "The hell does that have to do with shit? I just like what I fucking like, idiot. Simple as that."
It's unfair, really. Very unfair; how Katsuki still managed to do this to him.
Izuku felt his face heat up when Katsuki stared at him at those last words, the scoop of ice cream in his spoon splattering to the ground.
I just like what I fucking like.
"Ah," He ducked his head, covering his face with his hands. "You can't just say things like that, Kacchan."
Not if Katsuki wanted Izuku to keep living until the next minute, with the early summer heat adding to the rapid beating of his heart. He heard a laugh, making him look up.
Click.
Eh?
Katsuki grinned, lowering the camera. "Say what nerd?"
The blonde reached over, thumb swiping over a dollop of strawberry ice cream at the corner of Izuku's lips, pushing it in. He was frozen-still, staring at crimson eyes as Katsuki's thumb spread the cold delicacy across his tongue and teeth.
"I like you?" Katsuki's grin turned teasing, thumb pressing down lightly on Izuku's tongue before pulling away, leaving only a mix of sweet and salty for him to taste.
The kiss ended as soon as it started, with Izuku's tongue quickly slipping into Katsuki's mouth, flavors exploding between them– sweet, salty, spicy– before he pulled away.
"I like you too, Kacchan."
It's… Izuku's in a haze of a sorts. The plot of the movie they went to watch flying over his head– sounds and flashy colors muted in his eyes and ears.
There was just Katsuki and the words. They continued ringing in his ears, skating along the disfigured fingertips that played along Katsuki's palm in the dark. It slid across their palms, traveling to Izuku's chest until it sizzled and simmered.
Like. It's just a word, right? Nothing serious.
Izuku could easily say that he liked katsudon. That he liked resting on the grass and looking up at the stars of the night sky, and that he liked spending time with his friends.
Like, like, like.
Izuku cradled Katsuki's face, eyes half-lid and panting slightly as he pulled away. He whispered it inaudibly against Katsuki's lips once, twice, before he finally stepped through the doors to his floor.
"Goodnight, Kacchan."
Silly. How could Izuku just simplify these feelings that raged in him as a two-week long storm, to simply 'like'?
It's preposterous, just ridiculous.
The feeling of opening his eyes to the dawn and thinking of how nice it'd be to wake up to gold and crimson– to the scent of burnt sugar and smoke instead of morning dew from the summer showers. The desperation, guilt, and desire that went into every step Izuku took towards the kitchen that morning-after– his body spurred on to touch, taste, and own.
Like?
Not enough. Never enough.
Katsuki clicked his tongue, glaring at the numbers then at Izuku. "You idiot. No fucking way are you getting out of this shitty bed today."
"Ngh, no," Izuku groaned, moving his heavy body to a somewhat sitting position, ignoring Katsuki's growls for him to 'fucking listen'. "I'm fine, Kacchan. I can just sleep it off at the shinkansen."
He wasn't fine. His eyelids were heavy and drooping, every part of his body aching and trembling from the mere effort of sitting against the wall of his bed.
Izuku personally thinks that he'd throw up if he even tried taking one step towards the door, more or less a two and a half-hour train ride to Osaka.
But of course he won't reveal that to Katsuki. He wasn't that stupid to ruin the day trip Izuku'd planned to USJ.
"Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that we'll still go while drinking cold medicine and eating soup, you muttering nerd."
Whoops.
Silently, Izuku cursed his mouth that, even after three years, hadn't learned to stop with the muttering. Maybe he should have that looked at.
But for now…
He pouted, looking up at Katsuki's glaring form– sighing when he realized the blonde was already dressed to go as he was before the thermometer betrayed him.
"But I wanted to go on a date with you, Kacchan. Try all those rides, eat all the weird things they served there, and–" maybe steal a kiss or two in between the nooks and crannies of buildings, or find out if Katsuki was still a scaredy-cat like when they were kids.
Izuku wanted to do everything and then some things. This was a dream– one he wanted to make into reality before the 'thing' ended.
He had eyes. He saw the the numbers of the blossoms dwindling, only two left– if the three yesterday were any indication– with the branches fading into taut and scarred skin.
Izuku had so much he still wanted to live out– so many more memories of Katsuki being his that he wanted to burn into his mind, his hands, his tongue, his eyes.
So much more.
Katsuki sighed and turned, nabbing Izuku's age-old laptop from the desk before the blonde joined him on the bed.
"Stop looking like a goddamn kicked puppy, Deku. That shitty capitalist trap's not going anywhere anytime soon, and I'm the one who has to call extras up for a refund. Now move your sick ass and pick a goddamn movie."
Izuku's been disappointed so many times in his life now. When his father didn't come to one of his school plays; when his mother didn't say the words that he hoped she would after their visit to the doctor; when the cracks of hero society threatened to swallow everyone whole.
It was a norm at this point– something he took in stride because that was life. There were ups and downs, disappointments and achievements, wins and losses.
But…
This, Izuku thinks, would never be one of them. This scene– memory– of Katsuki stripping them both of their clothes, calloused hands firmly but gently wrapping him with blankets and running through green curls.
Thoughts of eating cotton candy, fighting over which rides to take, and making every nausea-inducing one a challenge ebbed away under the soft caresses– scratches against his scalp, cold toes wiggling with his and making him shy away.
This was nice.
How could he even think that anything that happened with Katsuki was a disappointment? It was a miracle in itself– this thing– that Izuku was even with the blonde.
"Deku."
Izuku tore his gaze away from the small screen, that and the orange-fiery glow of the sunset seeping through his curtains the only thing shedding light into the room– on them.
Katsuki stared at him, and Izuku kept that gaze. He didn't look away for a minute; not when the blonde moved over him, not when Katsuki pushed him back, slotting his body over Izuku's.
Where else would he look?
The heaviness and chill in his body shifted, minutely, in that simple action; the call of his name, the way it rumbled and rolled out of Katsuki's tongue. The haze of something as fickle as a fever dissipated, snapping Izuku into the here and the now.
"Kacchan."
His hands, scarred and disfigured ones that had always been a point of weakness for him, trembled as they grasped and clung onto Katsuki's bare hips, boxers long discarded with the blankets.
Hot. It's hot. It burns.
"Fuck, fuck, fu– ngh!" Katsuki arched into Izuku, moans bouncing off the walls before he ate them up, lips and tongue moving along Katsuki's jaw, neck, chest, teeth grazing and leaving marks.
It's warm. Wet. It's home.
How many times had Izuku sunk into dreams like this?
Izuku panted, groans leaving him with every thrust, every tug, every scratch. Scarred hands hadn't released their grip since the start, spots of black and blue joining fading lines and beautiful cherry blossoms.
For how long had he wanted this– craved, desired, and longed for this? Days, months, years, decades, lifetimes– it didn't matter.
Not now. Not when Izuku finally had this– had Katsuki.
He tilted his head up, darkened emerald and crimson meeting, half-lid, before lips reached up and descended on each other. Izuku's saying something, babbling lost to squelches and the slapping of skin against skin.
It took a while for him to realize what he was saying. Another to realize that it wasn't only him who was saying it.
"I love you, I love you, fuck–" Katsuki cried out, hands scrambling at everything– nails scratching, fingertips counting freckles, palms cupping Izuku's face.
"I love you, Izuku. I love you, I love you," Katsuki laughed in between kisses, in between caresses and thrusts. "My nerd. My Deku. I love you, I fucking love you."
Ah. So this was it. This was what it was.
He reached up to cup Katsuki's face, kissing him and swallowing down the moans, the tension strung in their bodies before it releases. He held him, riding out the aftermath, smiling amidst the tears.
"I love you too, Kacchan."
Izuku's eyes burned under Katsuki's smile, the tears not abetting even as the other swiped them away, kissing them way. Instead he allowed himself this– whispering sweet nothings and everythings until Katsuki slept with a smile on his face, bodies intertwined as their hearts were.
So this is what it was.
"My Kacchan. My sun, my victory, my–" Izuku choked, sobs wracking through his body as his fingers traced another fallen blossom. "My love, my life."
This was what the price was– the punishment of selfishness and the culmination of guilt and desire. This was the reason for the shared myth.
The crown wasn't meant to herald others to follow– to bleed and plead to the gods as blossoms were woven and dedicated. This was what it was– a warning, a premonition of a fate worse than death.
For what greater pain was there that could hurt him as much than knowing that this love returned wasn't real?
.
.
"Huh, Bakugou got called out?"
"Mhm, yeah," Izuku smiled sheepishly. "He's interning with Best Jeanist and an operation came up. Don't worry, he's coming back later!"
Of course they shouldn't worry. Katsuki was the best, after all. Plus, it was a simple operation and other sidekicks would be there too!
It'll be fine.
Izuku jolted when a hand lands on his shoulder. He turned, following it to the owner.
"It'll be fine, Izuku," Todoroki squeezed his shoulder– an attempt at reassurance and support he didn't know he needed. "It's Bakugou. Worst case scenario is him waking us all up when he comes back."
"Ah, I-I'm not worried!" Izuku laughed, skirting around all the others who gathered around him, hounding him for answers. He placed the dishes in the sink, all but running away with a feeble excuse.
Really, though, he wasn't worried. Out of all the people in the world– save for Katsuki's parents– Izuku knew the blonde best.
Todoroki was right; Katsuki might come back a bit battered, a bit irritated, a bit smug– but he will come back.
And that's… that's what worried him.
Not the call that woke them both up, Katsuki elbowing him before the other could find the source of the ringing and buzzing. It wasn't the thought of Katsuki going to Kakegawa to help with subjugation of an organized villain group that led Izuku to take an additional two flights of stairs.
It's…
"Really, Kacchan," Izuku chuckled softly, closing Katsuki's door behind him. "I don't know if you have the best or worst timing."
Today was the last day.
The calendar he hid in his closet had thirteen days crossed, the last encircled one declaring the date of the day. Of course, he wanted to deny it– denial was something he's an expert on.
But the morning light that shone on the last cherry blossom– a somei-yoshino with its pure white petals in full bloom, delicate pinks and yellows at its core– said otherwise.
It was a sort of dramatic irony that it was the one resting on Katsuki's heart– the very same one that he'd first touched that day, and the one he'd kissed as he worshipped Katsuki's body every night.
Ah. He missed Katsuki.
Izuku shuffled to and fro across the room, an assortment of things already in his arms– one of his 't-shirt' shirts, a pair of All Might boxers, a spare toothbrush Katsuki set aside for him, and the list went on.
Izuku smiled as he approached the desk, eyes softening as he picked up the strip photo, chuckling when he saw Katsuki's scowling face.
This so fucking lame. Be thankful I like your nerdy ass to even get in these shitty things.
"He liked the purikura so much, though…" Izuku hummed, still smiling as he pocketed it, moving on to other things that caught his eye.
Movie tickets to the foreign film with a plot that flew over Izuku's head, remembering only the way Katsuki's hands felt in his, fingers wiggling and playing with each other.
A gatcha ball that Katsuki nicked from Izuku, switching them with a victorious grin on his face with him not really caring as long as the other was happy.
One of Izuku's pens, the one with bite marks at the end, that he probably left during one of their study sessions– all of which ended up with Katsuki proving he was smarter and Izuku staring shamelessly at the other wearing glasses.
There were more. Lots more.
Izuku didn't realize just how much of himself he'd pushed upon Katsuki in a span of almost two weeks. It was… complicated. How he felt.
He was happy, ecstatic even, and doing this made his insides flutter. It reassured him to know that Katsuki allowed this– allowed Izuku into his life with the ease of breathing and living.
With every little knick-knack Izuku found in Katsuki's room of their time together, he smiled, let himself be swept up in the memories before tucking it into his arms.
It's sweet. How Katsuki kept everything and more.
Izuku had to make two trips, arms overflowing with every little thing from the past weeks, until there was nothing left to get– to erase, to liberate, to forget.
Ah…
It…
It hurts.
"Ngh, fuck." Izuku cried, biting his lip to stifle the sobs that let themselves out from the gates. He bites down hard enough, trying to still his trembling hands as they tucked everything in a box.
Hurts, hurts, hurts. No, no, no, he doesn't want to do this. He can't–
Izuku places the lid over, a photo of Katsuki looking away from the camera and smiling, eyes trained at green eyes and green locks the last thing to catch light before darkness descended.
When he closed his closet, the movement jolts the crown and charm from their perch, both fluttering innocently to Izuku's hands.
Ah.
They say if you weave a crown of cherry blossoms and dedicate it to the one who holds your heart, you'll get to hold theirs.
"Hey, Kacchan?"
Katsuki grunted against Izuku's chest, bare bodies flush against the other, chests heaving, arms around the other.
He brushed his lips against the furrow in Katsuki's brow, laughing softly when the other leaned up to catch it with his own. Scarred fingers played with golden locks, untangling knots and flicking off dried blood and dust.
Izuku pulled away, humming and rubbing Katsuki's back, knots of tension from the day unravelling with his touch.
Cute. Precious.
Izuku continued, stroking and caressing, planting soft kisses until the other's breathing evened out, soft puffs of air tickling his chest.
Someone popped into your mind, didn't it? Someone you want to make a crown for.
Izuku looked at Katsuki, emerald shining with spilling tears and taking in everything; just as his hands had mapped out and burned Katsuki's moans, his body, his love in memory.
"I wish that cherry blossoms didn't just last for two weeks." Izuku's voice was hoarse, lips trembling as he brushed them against Katsuki's, the tingling making him break out a sob.
"I wish you could love me forever, Kacchan."
I wish, I wish, I wish.
He tried for as long as he could, batting away the cloak of sleep before he could no longer hold on. Izuku's eyes fluttered shut, and the realm of dreams dragged him under.
For the last time.
Ah… this must be what they called déjà vu. At the moment, Izuku's not sure what he should be feeling.
He expected, was prepared– or liked to think he was–, for the heart-wrenching sadness that'd come over him in that moment. Izuku even thought he'd cry and wail out loud, maybe even cursing at the gods.
But… Now he just felt…
Nothing much. It's nothing really.
It's jarring, how much the tears wouldn't come. A bit frustrating even on his part. Because this was supposed to be a world-ending type of thing right? Did his eyes have a schedule for when or when not to cry?
Izuku stifled the laugh bubbling in him, emerald eyes soft and bleary in sleep looking at Katsuki.
It was way too early, the window still dark with even the sun not up yet. Even Izuku didn't usually wake up at this early hour, Katsuki usually being the one to kick him awake.
And yet, here he was. Here they were.
He leaned closer, letting out a breathless laugh when blonde locks tickled his face. Izuku closed his eyes for a moment, smiling and breathing in the scent– of burnt sugar and smoke, of sweat and sex, of Bakugou Katsuki.
Could he wake up everyday to this?
With the love of his life nestled in his arms, legs tangled, and Katsuki moving in slumber and letting out unconscious gasps that Izuku mirrored when they brushed against each other?
Could he?
Izuku's hands splayed out on Katsuki's chest; no lines of black branches and no blossom in sight.
Just his chest– no marks from any of the nights they spent together– moving up and down, heart beating normally against Izuku's palm.
He couldn't, huh.
Ah… that's… disappointing.
"Sleep some more, Kacchan," Izuku whispered when Katsuki stirred, watching the blonde roll over into the empty space, nuzzling into it. He smiled, allowing himself one last kiss, one last caress, one last–
"I love you."
It's later that Izuku realized why he didn't cry; why he even managed to laugh softly in those early hours, stealing a kiss or two, even stifling the jolt of pleasure when Katsuki's leg brushed lower.
The reason was simple– painstakingly obvious that he would've laughed if he could.
Of course, of course.
No matter when or where it was, Izuku didn't want to show Katsuki how his legs buckled underneath him when he shuffled back to his room. He didn't want to– never wanted to let Katsuki hear his pitiful cries muffled into his pillow that had lingering scents of burnt sugar.
He didn't want to look so weak in front of his friend.
.
.
"Ah," Izuku blinked, swallowing a few gulps of water. "We broke up."
If the words still haven't stopped driving spears through his heart and made his eyes burn, he would've laughed.
It's cute how it took everyone a few weeks of not-so-subtle shared glances and hushed conversations to ask him.
Izuku could've made it easier on them, he knew. There was the choice of telling them on the very same day the blossoms wilted away, the disappearance snatching back the heart he had in his hand.
Yeah… he could've.
Izuku smiled, setting down the bottle of water. It was a smile both for himself and what looked like half the class who converged in his space.
"Before any of you say anything, no, we didn't fight or anything. We just…" Izuku shrugged. "…didn't work out."
A lie.
He knew, in those two weeks, that no one would ever be close enough to complement him– to complete him than Katsuki. He knew, from the way their hands fit, to the way they'd win together, and the way their bodies sung, slotted together, that there'd be no one else.
That there could be no one else.
"It was a clean break and there's no blood lost between us, so please no need to bring it up with Kacchan… I–" Izuku murmured, ducking his head to blink away the tears. "I wanted to tell you guys earlier but…"
That's why.
It was one thing to mourn in his room– to silently let his heart break when Katsuki no longer rolled his eyes and shoved food in his mouth or shouted at Izuku for making him wait too long.
One thing to find himself waiting, his eyes drawn to crimson ones, for Katsuki to stop in his tracks and hold out his hand, maybe shooting him a boyish grin as he dragged Izuku to another food joint.
But it's another thing entirely to say it out in the open when he knew that those touches– those smiles, that intimacy and love wouldn't come anymore.
He felt arms wrap around him, hands squeezing his shoulder and hands. Uraraka pulled away, Kirishima and Todoroki looking at him with sympathy.
"It's fine, Deku-kun," She smiled, returning Izuku's shaky one. "You needed time. We understand that."
"Midori– Izuku," Kirishima cleared his throat, eyes shining. "I know I'm Katsuki's friend, but I'm your friend too, man. So I appreciate this; you telling us."
Todoroki nodded. "We're here if you need us, Izuku. We always are."
Guilt was an ugly thing, Izuku realized.
It eats at him when everyone would give him sympathetic looks when Katsuki would storm over to him, their brash and unpolished dynamic snapping back into existence. Guilt clogged up his throat when he'd hear the others talk about defense mechanisms of anger and resorting back to what they were.
But, ah, most of all… It's stifling– this thing called heartbreak.
Izuku didn't know (maybe he never will) how he'd manage to focus on his friend– not when every glance too long at crimson eyes and calloused hands made him remember what it was like.
What it was like being able to call Katsuki his, and being Katsuki's in turn.
My nerd. My Deku.
Being friends with Katsuki again was Izuku's lifelong dream. Even before the… feelings intruded and carved out a part of his heart, it was friendship he was desperate for, longed for, and desired.
So this was fine! Really! More than fine, actually.
It's slow, maybe a bit more stilted and awkward the first month after the flowers fell, but eventually, things got better.
Katsuki's threats and knee-jerk impulses to push Izuku away eventually tuned itself out into good-natured teasing– still on the brash side, of course– and casual skinship.
It was good. Perfect. A dream come true.
"Stop fucking spacing out while I'm beating your ass, shitty Deku!"
"Eh? Ah, oh no!" Izuku groaned, throwing the console on the carpeted floor as 'GAME OVER' flashed on the screen. He got a second to mourn over the loss before a shadow passed over him.
Katsuki grinned as he pinned Izuku down, cackling when he could no longer contain the laughter dealt by the tickling assault.
"N-no, K-Kacchan, s-stop–" Izuku laughed and giggled, trying and failing to worm his way out from the assaulting fingers at his sides. "Ah, I– ha– can't–"
"Suck it up, Deku. You know the rules," Katsuki grinned, increasing the intensity and bringing out more stomach-aching laughter. "Giggles for Winners, Tickles for Losers."
"I n-never– ah!– agreed to th-that rule, K-Kacchan!"
"Losers don't get to agree, nerd!"
This was it, this scene.
Izuku couldn't count how many nights he'd dreamt of being in this exact scenario, back when 'friendship' was something as unattainable as reaching the far ends of the galaxy. It could've been just a few nights a month or every night for a year.
Maybe even longer.
This– this scene; Katsuki grinning without a care and laughing as they rolled over in the common area, legs and arms getting tangled in the wires of the set-up gaming console. And Izuku, laughing and giggling when he got to pin the other and have his turn to make tears build up in the corner of Katsuki's eyes.
It was a dream come true.
This was everything Izuku wanted– to be able to proudly say that he was Katsuki's friend and have the reassurance that Katsuki would recognize that and say–
"You're the shittiest friend I've ever played this shitty game with, Deku."
"Heh," Izuku giggled, glancing at the other splayed out beside him. "You called me your friend."
Izuku got up, leaning over Katsuki with a bright smile. "That alone makes me the winner, Kacchan."
It was a dream come true. It was, it was, it was… everything.
But, ah, why was he still so selfish? Why did Izuku still find his heart stuttering when Katsuki blushed, his fingers itching to run through his dripping hair after training, and body aching in the night with Katsuki's name on his lips?
Why, even now after their friendly scuffle, did he want to kiss Katsuki senseless– render the blonde boneless and moaning under him as they both were in those two heavenly weeks?
He had Katsuki's friendship already. That was enough! That should be enough!
Katsuki rolled his eyes, reaching up to pinch Izuku's cheeks. "Yeah, duh, you're my friend. What, did tickling you make your brain forget, ha?"
Please, please, let it be enough.
He's already had Katsuki's heart once and learned to let it go.
Izuku didn't know what would happen if he had it in his hands again.
While Emperor Saga was known for the vast amount of consorts he bedded and children he sired, a point of controversy was the cause of death.
Documents officially declared it under the pretense of his ill-disposition since his enthronement, though personal accounts of court masters and personal attendants said differently.
It was popular belief then that around the time the unidentified man-ghost stopped showing, even with the numerous blossom crowns His Imperial Highness would weave, the Emperor was riddled with sickness of the heart.
Those present at his last moments were speculated to have heard him mutter the name of the man over and over until he passed.
"One, two… Happy birthday!"
Izuku gaped, eyes wide as the lights turned on, party poppers drowning him in streamers and… was that glitter?
"Oh! Um, I- eh?"
"Heh," Tokoyami chuckled. "I think we broke Midoriya."
That'd be the understatement of the century, Izuku thinks. His brain was still processing everything– and yes, there was a lot, maybe even too much– making him stumble over words of thanks.
He… definitely didn't expect this. Not that he didn't see his friends as inconsiderate people, no! Definitely not!
It's just… well, he didn't really have much experience with birthday parties. The ones he did have, he didn't remember anymore, what with them happening before society basically labeled him as 'do not interact'.
So with the mindset of someone who'd had too many disappointments in life, Izuku didn't really put much thought to his birthday. It was just a day like any other– he still woke up, washed up, went to school, trained, and flopped down on his bed as he talked with his mom before sleeping.
There was really nothing special about his birthday, and Izuku preferred it that way.
But, well…
"–seventeeen, eighteen! Damn, Midoriya! Even Shoji wasn't able to make it to seventeen seconds for his birthday!"
Izuku wiped the slight spill of what was definitely tequila– if that buzz hitting him was any indication– shrugging. "Mhm, it's not that hard, though…?"
Kirishima whistled, clapping him on the back. "Looks like we know who's the heavyweight in our class! You heard the birthday man– bring in the shots!"
Izuku most definitely did not say anything of that sort but the tequila added with the charged happy atmosphere made him just… go with the flow.
His birthday wasn't a special date, not really something worth going ballistic over that's for sure.
"Alright, who wants to play the Elephant game? Losers do body shots!"
But if it made people happy– an excuse to throw away the worries of the present and the future at least for a night– then Izuku couldn't protest.
It's other people's happiness that pushed him to go on, after all. Even in lieu of his own.
So Izuku laughed.
He smiled when everyone drowned him in gifts, following true to their expectations when he opened them one by one, thanks spilling out easily.
He cried when Todoroki and the others went all-out, doing speeches of the irreplaceable role Izuku had in their lives, and hugged them all, Black Whip helping to reach everyone.
It was… nice. Celebrating, being with everyone important in his life– everyone he loved and would always watch their backs for.
The memories of their laughter, their smiles and their tears and shenanigans was nice too as a distraction from the cold nights Izuku would spend with not a wink of sleep.
It's nice, to be surrounded by warmth, Izuku thinks.
.
.
Someone placed their hand at the crook of his elbow– not pulling and not holding, just… touching, as if hesitant to do anything else but that.
Izuku turned, vision blurring for a bit before focusing. "Kacchan?"
"Hey," Katsuki's hand on his arm shifted into a light grip. "You got a second, nerd?"
He glanced at the others, most of them occupied with watching a bottle spin, others already conked out on the couches and chairs.
He's pretty sure Todoroki and Sero were still in the kitchen trying to cook… something, and Uraraka was having a staring contest with the All Might bobblehead Izuku donated for their common room.
"Yeah, I have time, Kacchan." Izuku smiled, the eighteeen seconds straight of downing tequila making him stumble after the blonde.
Oh dear. That additional beer bong was definitely not a good decision. Not with the floor and ceiling suddenly warping into one.
Katsuki clicked his tongue and tightened his hold, just in time to stop Izuku from ending up with a broken nose on top of a headache.
"Shitty nerd. Stop falling over yourself like an idiot or I might just lug your ass over my shoulder."
"Mhm," Izuku took a step forward, still smiling as he righted himself. "That's not such a bad idea."
It wasn't, right? Katsuki was strong, after all. He could easily throw Izuku over his shoulder and not falter one bit.
And falling?
Izuku stepped closer, barely registering how far they managed to get away from the party before his face was only inches from Katsuki's.
Ah, Katsuki smelled so nice. Like candy. He tasted like it too, sounded like it.
"Then," He licked his lips, emerald meeting crimson. "Can I fall for you instead, Kacchan?"
There's this buzz going through his body right now, a haze settling in his mind that numbed thoughts that weren't important. All that mattered was following his instincts, his desires– what made him happy.
And there had only been one thing that really did.
The kiss lasted only for a second, and Izuku couldn't even call it a kiss, not really. Just a chaste brush of their lips. Not compared to the ones they shared before–
Oh. Oh no.
"Fuck!" Katsuki shoved Izuku away, the other's grip on his arm being the only thing that stopped him from losing his balance. "What the hell, Deku? What the actual fuck?"
Shit, shit, shit.
The rejection poured cold water over everything– the familiar mingling of their breaths, the warmth of Katsuki's body against his, the spark and tingle that followed that first touch.
He screwed up.
"I-I– Ka-Kacchan, I'm–" Izuku choked on his words, not knowing what could even possibly justify what he did– what line he crossed, what barriers he barreled through.
What bridges he burnt.
The 'i'm sorry' was there at the tip of his tongue, ready to be launched over and over until it could cover this slip of his. Excuses using alcohol and the happy-go-lucky atmosphere of the past few hours were ready too, just waiting for Izuku's signal to put out the fires and salvage what he could.
But why, why couldn't he say it?
"Stop it, dammit!" Katsuki growled, grip tightening to an almost painful degree. "Stop fucking looking at me like that! Like, like–"
What? Why… why was Katsuki crying? Why did he look like it was him who was in pain from Izuku's moment of weakness?
What was happening?
Katsuki glared at him, party lights illuminating the shine of unshed tears. "Stop looking at me like you want to do it again. Stop looking at me like you do in the goddamn camera I found in my room. Just– just fucking stop with looking like I broke your goddamn heart, Izuku!"
"But you did!"
Izuku should stop. He should let those apologies and excuses pour out of him, masking everything as a mistake– a misunderstanding that they can both move on from.
But even now– months after– Izuku hadn't moved on from desiring, craving, loving Katsuki. He was still stuck in those two weeks of a dream turned reality, where he'd be greeted by the sight of easy smiles and rough, gentle kisses.
He needed to stop– needed to but he couldn't.
So he pushed through, uncaring of fickle things as consequences because this type of life where Midoriya Izuku was only Bakugou Katsuki's friend was unfair.
"I love you, Kacchan. I loved when you showed up at my home that day. I loved when you held my hand and never let go for a single second as you leaned against me."
Tears poured on and on, some slipping into his mouth, joining the choked out words and sobs that'd been building up since he walked out of Katsuki's room.
Shaky hands reached up to cup Katsuki's face, and Izuku couldn't help but cry in relief at the warmth he'd been missing and craving for.
How could he have thought he could live without this?
"I loved when you took me out on dates I never expected you of all people to take me on. I loved how you laugh when I ate that wasabi you slipped in, or when you snorted, trying not to laugh at my jokes."
Izuku knew he wasn't making sense to Katsuki.
He knew the other was trying to pipe in, wanting to ask him about things he had never done, places he'd never taken Izuku to, and words he'd never said– about the camera Izuku missed.
"I…" Izuku sobbed, running his hands through Katsuki's hair, neck, and back. Not getting enough of this addiction he couldn't shake.
"I loved when you kiss me when I asked and when I didn't. I loved the sounds you made for me and only me. I… fuck," Izuku laughed, leaning his forehead against Katsuki's, shivering as he breathed in the scent he'd come to call home.
"I loved when you called me yours and the smile you gave me when I called you mine."
Their lips brushed, barely, before Izuku pulled away, smiling. The tears haven't stopped; not as he moved his hands down, fingers tracing Katsuki's– familiarizing with calloused fingers, with sweaty palms, and minuscule scars.
Izuku intertwined their fingers, palms touching, magnetic, and it was like the past months of forgetting didn't happen.
"I love you, Kacchan, even if you broke my heart by waking up one day and not knowing that, at least for a while, you loved me back."
He dragged his eyes back to Katsuki's, lifting a scarred hand up to wipe the blonde's tears away. Izuku's smile was shaky, disfigured fingers trembling– the same ones that Katsuki'd kissed and whispered love for.
Don't be fucking ashamed of these, nerd. They're a part of you, so of fucking course they're beautiful.
When Katsuki brought his hand up, Izuku closed his eyes, pulling his hand away.
He was ready. If he wasn't then he would be after the first hit, explosion or push.
Friends?
Yes, it was his dream. The dream of a wide-eyed Izuku who chased after his symbol of victory and hero.
But… friends? Now, when Izuku was no longer chasing after but walking besides, and he himself as a symbol for Katsuki's rise?
A delusion.
"You fucker. You goddamn son of a bitch."
Izuku bit his lip, trying to contain the whimper from the stab those words delivered. He wouldn't be weak– won't be a coward. Not anymore. He knew he deserved everything that would come– be it anger, disgust, disownment.
When Katsuki touched him again, it wasn't with a hit, an explosion, or a push.
When he touched Izuku again, it was with a touch– a caress reminiscent of the nights and days spent entangled with each other, drunk and addicted to the feeling of every thrust, every kiss, every moan.
Izuku's eyes fluttered open, closing momentarily when that warmth tinged with the rich scent of burnt sugar and smoke engulfed him. He sighed, giving into the impulse to nuzzle into Katsuki's hold.
"Kacchan…?"
Katsuki sighed, squeezing Izuku's hand. "I don't fucking know what you did, Deku. I don't know if I even want to know."
He bit his lip, conflict racing across his face. Katsuki stroked Izuku's face, the pads of his fingers tracing freckles that his body memorized.
"But… this… fuck," Katsuki grabbed their intertwined hands, leaning his forehead against it, letting out shaky breaths. "It's fucking messed up how I just fucking know how to do this; how to hold your shitty hand, how to chase after your lips and bring out those goddamn moans that haunt me in my sleep."
He breathed out, lips brushing against the tips of Izuku's fingers that clung onto Katsuki's. "I don't have a goddamn idea of how I fucking know how you like strawberry ice cream, or that your favorite filter on the purikura is the shitty bunny."
Katsuki brought his gaze back to Izuku, and he almost cried out at how… lost the blonde looked. His grip was tight– desperate– depending on it to ground himself in this chaos Izuku brought him into.
Was it cruel of him to feel happy at that? Was it depraved even, to feel his insides flutter at the thought– the prospect– that Katsuki remembered– even if not fully?
Even if only in dreams?
Maybe.
It was unheroic, selfish, and everything Izuku wanted.
"I…" Katsuki choked out. "I don't know why I know what you taste like, how your hands feel all over my body, and how you feel inside me."
Izuku moved without thinking, arms going around Katsuki and rocking the man against him. He planted kisses all over Katsuki's face, whispering incorrigible sweet nothings and everythings into his ear.
If Izuku still had any doubt– any expectation of rejection– all of it dissipated when Katsuki melted into his hold, sobbing into his neck.
"I don't know, I don't fucking know anything about where the hell all the things I do know came from– where the hell that camera came from. It's messed up, fuck, fuck, it is, dammit."
His fingers clutched tight at Izuku's back, breathing in the petrichor scent he'd woken up to months before.
"It's fucking messed up and I should be beating the shit out of you but I fucking can't when all I know is that I fucking love you, Izuku."
Izuku cried, voice broken. "Kacchan. Don't–"
Please, don't. Don't do this. Don't offer your heart to me because I don't know if I can learn to let it go when you decide you want it back.
Trembling callused hands cupped Izuku's face, and Katsuki pulled away from the hold, staring at him with those eyes that led towards this spiral.
The kiss was soft and harsh, sudden and expected, with their lips and tongues moving according to memory of their hearts that sung and beat as one.
Desperation leaked with every step taken, every stumble into a room once filled with the things Izuku had hidden in his closet. It was desire, pure and raw, that followed clothes strewn across the floor, bodies tangling on the bed.
Izuku didn't realize he was still crying, words repeated over and over with every thrust, every bruise his fingers made, every mark his lips left.
Izuku didn't realize it until Katsuki was crying out an answer as he moved in tandem, his heels digging into Izuku's back, nails raking down lines from green curls to a scarred back.
"Don't stop loving me, Kacchan. My Kacchan. Don't stop loving me, please, please. I love you, I love you."
"I'll love you, fuck– I'll love you, Izuku. My Deku. I'll fucking love you so don't leave me again. Don't you fucking dare leave me."
This was crazy, Izuku knew that.
Twisted, convoluted, perverted, and all the other things he could call this… thing. It was all of it and none of it, the myriad of right and wrong, of black and white mixing into an indiscernible mess.
But, dammit.
Katsuki smiled into the kiss, laughing when he tasted Izuku's tears. "God, you're such a crybaby, nerd. The hell are you crying for now?"
"I'm just…" Izuku hiccuped, hiding his face in Katsuki's chest, calloused fingers running through green curls. "I'm just so sorr–"
"Oi," Katsuki tugged at his hair, glaring down at Izuku. "Don't fucking apologize for this, Deku. Try and I'll fucking kill you."
"…Okay."
"I'm fucking serious, dipshit."
"Mhm."
Katsuki sighed, ducking down for another kiss, pulling away to nip at Izuku's nose. "We can talk about… everything in the morning, alright?"
Izuku shifted, moving until their foreheads touched, noses brushing. Emerald eyes stared at crimson ones, both still shining with tears left to be shed.
"…And you'll still be here, Kacchan? In the morning?" Scarred hands gripped at Katsuki's waist, fingers tracing Katsuki's face. "The you who loves me?"
Katsuki grumbled, this time being the one to hide in the crook of Izuku's neck, the tips of his ears red.
Izuku almost missed it, the words soft and quiet, almost getting lost amidst the thumping beat of the party downstairs, and their heavy breaths.
When Izuku did catch it, though, he couldn't stop himself from sobbing all over again, even when Katsuki chastised him. The tears didn't stop, not until Katsuki's breath mingled with his, evening out.
.
"Morning or fucking evening, last year or this night, I'm always the Katsuki that loves you, idiot."
.
They say if you weave a crown of cherry blossoms and dedicate it to the one who holds your heart, you'll get to hold theirs.
…At least until the flowers fall.
But do you know that there are species of the flower that blooms more than once?
A heralding, perhaps, of a second chance.
AN:
Happy birthday to the one and only Midoriya Deku! Hope bakugou knocks some sense (and maybe give him a bath) into him soon!
In writing this i just… wrote. I didn't really take notice of the style I used or overt characterizations. I just wrote them as I wanted to.
And that little tidbit about Emperor Saga is pure utter bullshit that I made up (though he was a legit emperor) for the sake of this story
Once again, if this violates, FFN policy, it's no problem since I already cross-posted it to AO3 lol. Thanks for reading and reviews are appreciated!
