Izuku woke up to the sound of jangling keys and opening doors. His head was pounding, his mouth a desert. He felt so shitty that for one sleepy second, he thought that if he was somehow about to be attacked or robbed at gunpoint in his own home, well, that was just the way it was. Of course, that was silly. There was only one person with a set of keys to his apartment. His heart fluttered weakly.
He could see his familiar silhouette, tall and lean and so welcome. Shindo made his silent approach, and upon noticing Izuku was awake, he knelt down at his bedside.
"How are you here?" Izuku mumbled in the bleary dark.
"Three calls in two minutes is never a good sign," Shindo murmured. His hand on his cheek was a comfort, however small. This was why Shindo was… whatever he was to Izuku. Only Shindo would take a four hour train ride into the city after a patrol because he called him one too many times. Only Shindo made him feel like he was something worthy and precious.
At times like this, Izuku could see himself loving Shindo. Loving him the right way. The way it was when you gave someone everything you are. The way it was when you loved yourself just as much as you loved the person you're with, just as much as they loved you.
At times like this, Izuku couldn't help but cry. He couldn't say you didn't need to come, or I'm fine. All he said was, "Thank you."
Shindo stripped to his boxers easily and climbed into his side of the bed. He knew he'd probably left straight from work with only the clothes on his back. He'd be in Izuku's clothes all weekend—or for however long he stayed—even though none of them fit quite right. Something about that made Izuku feel good and guilty in equal measure.
It wasn't long before he pulled Izuku into him, his cold chest pressing into his back with the comforting weight of his arm caging his waist. So often when they laid like that it felt oppressive, a real cage that Izuku didn't want to be in. He didn't want to be Quake's Quirkless boyfriend or the lesser part of a hero couple. He lived too much of his life under other people's definitions of him. He wanted to be his own person with his own accomplishments, and he was. He knew he was, but it was hard to remember that when the first question a reporter asked him after taking down a major crime syndicate, or starting a charity foundation for homeless youths was, "How's Quake? What's the status of your relationship now that you live and work in two different cities?"
But that night, his cage was a comfort. A small, secret thing that belonged to the two of them. It wasn't oppressive, it was the only thing for miles tethering him to safety out in deep space. Shindo was his own kind of force and gravity and the pull of it felt just right. Maybe tomorrow it would feel crushing. Maybe tomorrow he would tell him he was fine. He didn't want to think about tomorrow. He sighed when Shindo kissed his hair and squeezed him tighter. They fell asleep tangled together, a gilded cage of limbs.
FEBRUARY"Are you okay? You're moodier than usual," Ashido said, sliding into the bright red booth across from Katsuki. For some reason they always met at a kitschy 50's style American diner. The food wasn't the worst, but the atmosphere was annoying. Sero and Kaminari slid in after her, squishing closely together while Kirishima sat next to Katsuki. It wasn't often that they all got to hang out together despite most of them—Sero being the only exception—living and working in the same city. This was the first time in months they all had a free Friday night and a day off Saturday. Ashido was usually on some late-night show or other, while Sero and Kaminari usually spent their free time with their significant others. It just so happened that both Iida and Jiro were busy that night. Kirishima was pretty unencumbered when he wasn't at the gym, much like Katsuki. He'd noticed things about Kirishima lately that he never would've seen if Izuku's voice wasn't always ringing in his ears like a mantra. You're so self-centered.
He'd started to notice that Kirishima, much like Katsuki, was pining for someone. He figured he was trying to keep his schedule open, should a certain pink hero call on him.
"I'm…" Katsuki started to say fine, but somewhere between his brain and his mouth fine turned into, "Shitty."
Everyone at the table went silent, their eyes blown a little wide as they took turns looking from Katsuki to each other. This went on for several seconds before Katsuki snapped.
"What?"
Everyone jumped. Ashido, as per usual, was the bravest at the table, and therefore the first to speak.
"You never actually tell us when you're not okay. It's…"
"Terrifying," Sero finished for Ashido.
"Shit must really be hitting the fan if Bakugo Katsuki isn't okay," Kaminari said, loudly sucking on the straw of his milkshake.
"What's wrong, man?" Kirishima asked, his eyes filled with genuine concern. Katsuki instantly regretting being a whiny dumbass.
"Nothing." He cleared his throat. "Any of you ever meet that Quirkless hero?"
Everyone at the table seemed taken aback by the subject change, but didn't call him on it. Everyone at the table, besides Sero, shook their heads.
"He's good friends with Iida and Uraraka. I've met him a few times," Sero said. Katsuki's head whipped up so fast to stare at Sero his neck cracked. How had Katsuki never made that connection? Of course he would know Iida's friends. He was too stunned by his own stupidity to play it cool.
"When's the last time you saw him? How is he?"
Katsuki hadn't heard from Izuku in six months, and he was trying to respect his needs. Time and space. Katsuki was suffocating on time and space like backwards claustrophobia and nothing he did could fix it, especially since Izuku's social media presence had dwindled in the previous months. Was it because he was just busy teaching, or was something wrong? At this point, he'd rather see a post of Izuku and Shindo full-on making out than have no update at all. Well, actually no, he didn't want that in the least.
"Maybe a month ago. Why?" Sero asked, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"Don't tell me you're crushing on Quirkless too?" Ashido squealed. Too?
"Hah?" Was all Katsuki could say while he was trying not to snarl at her.
"He's so cute. I mean, I'm not, like, interested, but all I'm saying is I have a full celeb-hero crush on him. Like, I'm one fluff article away from cosplaying him and asking for his autograph at the next HeroCon, you know?"
Both Katsuki and Kirishima wore twin frowns. Katsuki was feeling possessive, Kirishima was probably feeling jealous.
"He's not that great, is he?" Kirishima asked, trying and failing to maintain his sunny disposition. Ashido didn't seem to notice and Kaminari looked apologetic. He could feel the waves of sympathy coming off him, trying to comfort his friend. Just then, the waitress brought their food to their table, everyone thanked her, but didn't jump back into their conversation until she left.
"No, he's pretty great. One of the nicest guys I've ever met. You know how sometimes you meet a hero and think wow, you're not as cool as you seem on TV?" He had a laser focus on his burger, so he didn't see the pained look on Kirishima's face.
"You mean how most people feel when they meet Bakugo?" Kaminari asked, his mouth too full with fries. Kaminari was lucky Katsuki was determined to be a better person or he would've lunged across the table and knocked him the fuck out.
"Yeah, exactly. Except Midoriya is better. He's so smart and mature, and like, real, I guess. Like, everything he says and does is genuine."
That didn't surprise Katsuki in the least. It didn't take long for him to realize that Izuku was only angry and impolite around Katsuki. To everyone else, he was as kind as he was when he was three years old and he shared all his snacks with Katsuki. A small, fond smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.
"Oh my god, you are crushing on Quirkless!" Ashido pointed an accusatory finger in Katsuki's face. Before Katsuki could defend himself, Kaminari squawked like a particularly annoying bird.
"Someone write down the time and date, this is a momentous occasion! Bakugo Katsuki having a crush on anyone is unprecedented!" He banged his hands on the table for emphasis.
"Isn't he… you know, with Quake?" Ashido asked, looking to Sero for confirmation. Sero shrugged, digging into his burger.
"Will you idiots shut up? Everyone is staring at our table," Katsuki grumbled, ducking down in the booth.
"We're all top 20 pros. They were already staring, hon," Ashido said, nonchalant as ever.
"What's going on, Bakugo?" Kirishima asked, softer. He put a firm hand on his shoulder.
"Nothing. I just...used to know him. Was wondering how he's doing," Katsuki said gruffly, an embarrassing flush creeping up his neck. Kirishima gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze that said we'll talk later.
"I forgot you grew up in the same neighborhood. You'd think it'd be a better known fact, or at least more talked about," Sero said thoughtfully. Everyone at the table made various sounds of affirmation, but Sero continued, "I think he's homesick, to tell you the truth. Missing his support system."
"Maybe you should call him, Bakugo! And get me an autograph!" Ashido said, utterly unhelpful.
"Maybe," Katsuki said, noncommittal and fully regretting ever bringing him up.
"Quake is gonna kill you." Kaminari snickered. Ashido squeaked out a laugh.
As if he could beat me, Katsuki thought, before shutting the conversation down completely.
"Alright, enough. Fuck off and eat your food."
—
Just over twenty four hours after hanging out with his friends, Katsuki was heading to work. He walked by a vendor just outside of the train station when something green caught his eye. A photo. Katsuki's eyes bugged out of his head at the offensive tabloid and the highly edited photos plastered on the front cover. He ripped the shitty magazine off the shelf and flipped it open to read the slanderous blurb under what looked to be his and Izuku's preschool class photo. Their faces were the only ones not blurred and pixelated.
PINING PROS?
Sources tell us that notoriously withholding #5 Pro Hero Ground Zero may be smitten with the #29 Pro Hero turned UA professor. Quirkless has long been rumored to be in a relationship with the #18 Pro Hero, Quake, since their days in Ketsubutsu. However, Ground Zero shares a connection with Quirkless that, though lesser known, spans much farther back in time. Could there be a love triangle brewing in the upper echelons of hero society? Read more on page 17!
Katsuki, so shocked he'd abandoned all sense, started to walk away with the magazine. He only took about three dazed steps before the vendor snapped at him.
"You better pay for that!" And then upon realizing who he was, added in a much smaller voice, "Sir."
Katsuki put some crumpled notes on his cart and walked away without his change.
The second he walked into the agency, all conversation stopped. A fair few of his coworkers were holding the same tabloid he was, and when he looked at them they scrambled to hide it. He hadn't even taken off his coat before Kirishima was at his desk.
"I'm really not in the mood," Katsuki said, doing his best not to lash out at his best friend.
"Yeah, I know. You're trending on Tweeter. I figured I'd tell you since you never go online."
There was a reason he never went online (his obsessive stalking of Izuku's profiles notwithstanding). Shit like that crappy tabloid burning a hole in his coat pocket was the reason he never went online. Katsuki signed.
"So, is it true?" Kirishima asked, going for nonchalance, but completely missing the mark. Katsuki narrowed his eyes at his perpetually pleasant friend.
"Did you really just ask me that?"
"Well, yeah. You've been all funky for months. And you asked about him at dinner the other night."
"That dinner is exactly why this bullshit is trending. Fucking Ashido and her loud mouth." Katsuki threw himself in his desk chair and pinched the bridge of his nose. What did Izuku think of all this? He logged into Tweeter on his desktop even though it was technically against agency policy and clicked to the trending topics page. Kirishima pulled a chair over to sit beside him. He couldn't be bothered to tell him to fuck off because with every hashtag he read on the screen he felt a creeping sense of dread.
#PrayforQuakeless
#groundless
#QuirkZero
#BakugoKatsuki
#GroundZero
#Quirkless
#MidoriyaIzuku
#notMYship
#boylove
#LGBTQHeroes
"You've got to be fucking kidding me. He's going to think I'm a fucking psycho." Katsuki blew out an exhausted breathe and dragged his hands down his face. Kirishima chose that moment to intervene.
"Okay, this isn't helping." He closed out the browser and dragged Katsuki to his feet. Under normal circumstances, Katsuki would never allow himself to be dragged anywhere. There was nothing normal about this. In all his years as a pro, Katsuki had kept a tight lid on any and all personal information about himself. And now, all of Japan was adding their two cents in about his crush and his sexual orientation. He hadn't seen hide nor hair of Izuku in months and now their names were linked together in 1.4 million tweets. This was the opposite of giving him space.
Kirishima pulled him into the first floor bathroom, and before closing the door, he plucked an out of order sign from behind the trashcan and stuck it on the front of the door. The lock bolted with a satisfying clink.
"Why do you have an out of order sign?"
"Mina and I make out in here sometimes—oh, wow, you're so lucky she's off today, or this would be, like, ten times worse for you."
"The fuck?"
"That's kind of a long story. Let's stay on topic. So, Quirkless."
"Fuck, no. You can't tell me you're hooking up with Racoon Eyes at work and not elaborate." Katsuki crossed his arms and leaned on the sink.
"Well, the short version is It's a recent development. I haven't asked her out yet. We're keeping a low profile."
"There's nothing low profile about Ashido Mina. That was her way of asking you out, dipshit."
Kirishima's sharky mouth turned into a perfect o as he thought about it. Katsuki wanted to laugh at the dumb expression. Instead, he threw his friend a bone.
"It's pretty obvious you're in love with her. Just go for it…. Preferably, not in this bathroom, though."
Kirishima smiled. "Yeah, the ambiance here isn't exactly romantic. How are you so good at giving relationship advice in the midst of your own gay panic?"
Katsuki punched him in the arm, and Kirishima was a good enough sport to take it and not activate his Quirk.
"So, Quirkless," he said, trying again to bring the conversation around to Katsuki.
"He's a person that I know," Katsuki said, looking away.
"No shit. Figures you'd have a crush on the only guy I've ever seen beat your ass."
"It's not a crush," Katsuki grumbled, a flush creeping up his neck. It wasn't a crush. It was way more than that. Crushes weren't supposed to feel the way Katsuki felt. He felt like the sky was falling in slow motion when he thought about Izuku. He missed him. He'd found himself unable to sleep at night because he was too busy picking through his memories for morsels of Izuku.
"Maybe you should take your own advice, man. Just go for it. Or maybe you should push him into a bathroom stall and ask if he wants to kiss you." Kirishima smiled, thinking of some recent memory, no doubt.
Katsuki gave him a withering look. For the sake of thinking about kissing him, he entertained the idea for a second. Izuku would break his arms. The thought almost had him grinning, if not for Kirishima's watchful eyes.
"We're not like that. We're not even friends."
"Maybe that's where you should start," Kirishima said simply, softly.
"It's not that easy."
"Maybe not, but when have you ever gone for the easy things in life?"
—
Izuku sat on the floor in front of his living room trying to separate all the puzzle pieces that looked like the outer edges of the night sky. His new therapist suggested it. Well, he was hardly new at that point. He'd been with this therapist for about four months. After his All Might-induced panic and the subsequent fallout, Shindo convinced him that making monthly treks out to his old therapist wasn't enough.
Before he'd moved back to Musutafu, he'd met with his therapist once a week since he was fifteen. Clearly, without the structure of weekly sessions, Izuku was backsliding. Or, at least, that's what Shindo thought. And when Shindo had an opinion he made needling comments until Izuku decided to take it as fact just to shut him up. So, there he was, doing a thousand piece puzzle of the Milky Way at his new and condescending therapist's behest.
He was loathe to admit it, but he actually liked doing the puzzles. It gave him a break from thinking in circles. It allowed him to step outside of himself and his problems and focus on finding perfect piece after piece until he was done. He found he was good at puzzles. Shindo was pretty good at them too. They had a system. Izuku would gather the sky and Shindo would gather the earth and they'd build until they met in the middle. Sometimes that felt good. Sometimes the creep of annoyance nestled its way in Izuku's heart until all he felt were the bars of the cage.
He'd tried to explain the cage to his new therapist, Dr. Shimada, once. Dr. Shimada might be good at suggesting leisure activities, but he knew fuck all about being comforting or helpful when it came to Izuku's problems. Izuku fit another piece of space in its rightful place when Shindo came through the door with the grocery bags.
For all his annoyance, Izuku was feeling more endeared to Shindo than ever before. There was something to be said about the fact that Shindo dropped everything for him that night. And even more to be said about the fact that Izuku hadn't turned him away. They'd fallen back into the easy crutch of each other. Shindo spent all his consecutive days off in Izuku's apartment, playing house and making sure he was eating and sleeping and taking his anti-anxiety meds. And Izuku was trying to be a fraction as loving toward Shindo as he always was to him.
Shindo dropped the groceries on the counter with more force than necessary.
"What's wrong?" Izuku asked, looking up from the holes he'd been trying to fill in the galaxy. It didn't take a genius to know that Shindo was pissed off.
Shindo sat in front of him on the other side of the puzzle and dropped a magazine on top of it. It displaced some of his pieces, flipping them over to the dull cardboard underneath. The annoyance pricked in his skull.
"What is this?" Shindo asked, his voice hard.
"A gossip rag?" A gossip rag with his face on it, actually. Izuku flipped the cover open and read the blurb under his preschool photo.
"What the fuck, Izuku," he said. He said it like a sigh. Like he was so exhausted. Like he was so tired of giving all his love to someone who didn't deserve it.
"You know we grew up together. I don't understand why you're so upset." Izuku pressed his thumb over the tiny, green haired Izuku on the glossy page, as if he were a smudge to rub off.
"Is the rest of it true?" Shindo looked less angry, the line of his shoulders hunching.
"Of course not. I haven't talked to him since December." Izuku flipped to page fourteen where the rest of the article was written. He skimmed it for the pertinent gossip that clearly had Shindo so upset. There was hardly anything. It was mostly highlighting the fact that Bakugo knew him before Shindo ever did. It was full of speculation, sure, but it almost explicitly stated that he was in a relationship with Shindo.
"I didn't even know you were talking to him."
Izuku looks up from the magazine at Shindo and he looks so hurt. He shouldn't look like that. Not over him.
"He apologized for being an ass. It's not the declaration of love this article makes it out to be," he said, and somehow it felt like a lie. He remembered the way Bakugo cupped his cheek. He remembered the way he called him by his name and it sounded the way a caress feels. Smooth and soft and warm. He remembered asking for space because he was reeling and his fractured friendship was the last thing he wanted to deal with.
"I just—it seemed like things were going so well with us. Like—" Shindo cut himself off, but Izuku could almost hear the rest of the sentence.
Like you love me. Like we're together for real.
Izuku leaned across the galaxy and cupped Shindo's face in his hands.
"Yo," he said, because he didn't know what else to say and he didn't want to talk anymore. He didn't want to think about the jumble of bullshit bouncing around in his head that the tabloid dredged up. His lips crashed into Shindo's. He didn't want soft or loving. He didn't want space. He refused to think about anything else but the pressure of his mouth against Shindo's, open and willing to reciprocate.
Fuck space. Fuck the puzzle and intimacy and his therapist and Aizawa's troubled gaze and Kacchan's confusing little crush and the cage of Shindo's love. Izuku didn't need any of that. He needed control. That was the last thing he thought before he laid Shindo down on the vast, disjointed pieces of the Milky Way and pulled his shirt over his head.