Izuku had completely forgotten about his borrowed copy of The Little Prince until he'd unearthed it from the bottom of his overnight bag over a month after Kacchan had lent it to him. He'd been so distracted during the holiday break and visiting his mom—and the awkward run-in he had with Shindo on a last minute grocery trip—that he'd hardly thought of the book at all. He'd hardly thought of anything at all, really, aside from his newly discovered, terrifying attachment to Kacchan and what that meant for him, and bending over backwards to avoid Aizawa at work.
He hadn't spent more than an hour or two at a time at his apartment in weeks. He'd all but moved in with Kacchan, and when he realized that he made a conscious effort to reverse that as much as possible. In the nick of time, Kacchan's agency ramped up his hours. He was working a double that day, and Izuku decided it was the perfect opportunity for a little alone time. What better way to start that than with some light reading?
Izuku finished the book quickly. It really was very short. He mulled over everything he'd read, and felt like he was missing something. What did Kacchan find in the pages of this book that had him so moved that he'd read it a thousand times? He read it cover to cover two more times, searching the worn pages for clues. It was beautifully written. Simple, but poignant in a way he couldn't put his finger on. It made him yearn to be young again, so he could see things the way the little prince did. Izuku tried to puzzle out his feelings, to discover what resonated with him about the characters in the book. At times, he felt like he could've been any of them, whether they be human, flora, or fauna, but he couldn't—or maybe wouldn't—say exactly why.
Was he the flower, selfishly grooming himself and growing superfluous thorns that wouldn't save him in the end? Or was he the fox, unable, but not entirely unwilling to be tamed, even for a short time? Was he any of those awful grown-ups, blustering on about matters of consequence? Maybe he was just the boa constrictor masquerading as a hat, or perhaps the elephant inside it. He'd worked himself into a frenzy for no apparent reason, so much so that he didn't want to be alone with his thoughts anymore. He wanted Kacchan. He wanted to know why this book was so special, and what it said about him—what it said about them.
He let himself into Kacchan's apartment—he'd given him a key for Christmas, along with a pair of pants and bodywash, just like he'd promised. He almost never used it, the implications that came with having a key to his apartment made him jittery and nervous. But I'm already jittery and nervous tonight, so who cares? Not him. Certainly not Kacchan.
He'd only had to wait about twenty anxious minutes before Kacchan came through the door, wet from the agency shower and dead on his feet.
"Hey," Kacchan said, a smile instantly lighting up his face. He stood a little straighter when he saw him, and threw his gym bag down by the door. Izuku held up the book.
"Which one am I?"
Kacchan's eyebrows knit together, a silent question. Izuku repeated himself.
"Which one? Who am I in this book?"
"What do you mean?" Kacchan came closer to him, pulled Izuku into his arms. Who was he to fight it? He buried his face in Kacchan's neck, but only for a second.
"Am I the flower, or the fox? Am I the grown up who gave up his dreams because it was more impractical?"
"What are you talking about? You're just you. Why are you so upset? You didn't like it?" Kacchan loosened Izuku's death grip on the book and tossed it onto the nearest flat surface before he cupped his face in his hands, tilting his head up to look at him. Izuku shook his head as best he could.
"I liked it. I read it three times, but I couldn't figure out why it was so important to you."
"Well, what did you like about it?"
"I liked the part about the sunsets. And the picture of the baobabs, and flying away on a flock of birds."
Kacchan smiles softly at him. He began running his fingers thought Izuku's hair. It made him feel warm.
"I like the little prince because he saw things in a way I never would've if I hadn't read the book."
"You're like him. You know what's important. I feel like I don't know anything," Izuku said, his voice a breathy sigh.
"I think you know more than you realize. Be patient with yourself." Kacchan's thumb grazed the puckered skin of Izuku's scar and kissed the space between his furrowed brows, willing the knot to loosen.
He hoped Kacchan was right. He hoped he understood what Kacchan was trying to say, he hoped he knew why that book and those flawed characters resonated so deep within him. He hoped this was Kacchan's way of telling him that everyone deserved to love and be loved, even the sly, untamable fox and the preening, capricious flower. Izuku hoped he deserved love as much as they did. He hoped they could be patient with each other while they figure it out. When Kacchan kissed him, it felt like an answer. It felt like a yes.
APRIL"Midoriya, your doom and gloom is suffocating. Aizawa and I are supposed to be the surly, unapproachable ones, not you," Shinso said, taking the seat next to Izuku in the teachers lounge. Izuku would admit that he'd been less than excited during work hours, but he'd hardly describe it as doom and gloom. His working relationship with Aizawa hadn't improved since December, but that was mostly because Izuku promptly left the room anytime Aizawa entered it. He couldn't even look at him without feeling awful, gut-churning shame. Izuku gave Shinso a withering look, and he rolled his eyes.
"You're still fighting with Aizawa?"
"I wouldn't call it a fight," he muttered. Fighting required speaking. Fighting required being on equal ground, and Izuku was leagues below him.
"If you told me what your fight was about, I could probably help, you know," Shinso said, probing for information. He'd been trying to find out since that night, but he wasn't too keen on sharing his shame with Shinso. Shinso was nice, and relatively non-judgemental, but he was also just as bluntly direct as Aizawa. He couldn't handle knowing whether or not Shinso agreed with Aizawa. Izuku shook his head, his mouth a hard line. Suddenly, Shinso grabbed Izuku's face, squishing his cheeks to the point that his lips puckered up.
"Wha—" Izuku had a hard time speaking, squished as he was.
"I'm not letting go until you cheer the fuck up," Shindo said, smirking at Izuku's obvious discomfort and confusion.
"I'm cheery," Izuku deadpanned, but the effect was lost in his inability to speak clearly.
"Smile, then. I dare you."
"What are you, twelve?"
"Yeah, if you need a backstory. We're at your thirteenth birthday party playing truth or dare. I just dared you to smile." Shinso gave his own wide, disingenuous smile, and it looked so out of place on his pale, tired visage that Izuku laughed. At his smile, Shinso loosened the hold on his face just enough to allow it free.
"That's better. No more sulking, alright? It's unbecoming of a hero."
"You sound like Iida." They both laughed, and Izuku would be lying if he said he didn't feel better. And then Kacchan walked in, and his good mood was bolstered by his unexpected presence.
"Hey." He smiled. "What are you doing here?"
Kacchan stood across the room with a wrapped bento in hand. Izuku found it odd that he hadn't come any closer. He looked a bit disgruntled. He was staring at Shinso, his brows drawn low over his eyes.
"'Sup, Bakugo?" Shinso drawled.
"Am I interrupting something?" Kacchan snarked, and Izuku was reminded distinctly of Shindo whenever he brought up Kacchan for no reason. And then it clicked. He was jealous.
"Just trying to cheer Midoriya up," Shinso said, clearly unfazed by the daggers Kacchan was attempting to shoot from his eyes. Izuku stood up to go to Kacchan because he was apparently frozen.
"What's that?"
"I brought you lunch," he said, finally turning his gaze on Izuku. He smiled gratefully, and took the proffered bento and unwrapped it from the orange cloth. It was Ground Zero-themed. Izuku thought it was really cute, and that if Kacchan wasn't clearly in a bad mood, he might be blushing at the idea of gifting his own merch.
"Thanks."
Kacchan was still occasionally looking at Shinso, who couldn't care less and was scrolling through his phone. And then Kacchan tried to kiss him, and Izuku instinctively turned his cheek. What if Aizawa walked in, or a student?
"Kacchan, I'm at work," he said, chiding him lightly. Kacchan ignored him.
"What was that? With Shinso, just now."
Izuku shrugged. "I don't really know. I thought it was weird too, but it did cheer me up."
"He was touching your face."
"Squishing it—platonically," he said, feeling awkward about even needing to clarify that.
"I'm not allowed to touch you like that in public. Why does he get to?"
Izuku looked at him, utterly incredulous. He couldn't fathom why they were having a conversation like this at all, let alone at his place of work. The beginnings of anger and annoyance needled his insides. He hadn't felt like this in a long time. Not since Shindo. And so, what he said next wasn't smart.
"You're not my boyfriend, Kacchan. And I don't find jealousy attractive. You're acting like Shindo used to."
"Don't compare me to him," Kacchan said, and it was almost a growl.
"Why not? You're acting like him. For no reason, might I add."
"Because I'm a different person, and you can't project your past failings onto me," Kacchan snapped.
Ouch. His heart squeezed painfully at Kacchan's words. Izuku felt something inside him wither and retreat. Aizawa's harsh critique of all Izuku's flaws rang in his head again.
"I think you should go now. I don't want a scene."
"This isn't a scene. We're talking," Kacchan said, and the hurt in his voice was apparent, even if it was hidden under a layer of incredulity. And then Aizawa walked into the lounge, and everything went from bad to worse. Izuku shut down, and even though he knew he'd be kicking himself about it later, he said, "I don't have time for this. This is why I never wanted anything like this in the first place. Just go."
Katsuki sucked in a breath like he'd been sucker punched. The worst part was that Izuku didn't even have the decency to look at him when he'd abruptly ended their first fight and dismissed him. He was looking over Katsuki's shoulder, and when Katsuki turned around, he saw Aizawa in all his sleep-deprived misery leaning in the doorway with a look of self-satisfied disapproval.
"Right. Okay. Well, you can keep the bento. I got it for you." He scratched the back of his head, looking to the tacky Ground Zero bento. He instantly regretted having the gall to gift his own merch. He started to walk away because he didn't know what he'd do if he didn't get out of there immediately. "See you around, Izuku."
Katsuki shoved passed Aizawa on his way out, refusing to give a shit about being a dick to his former teacher. Izuku said he didn't want to be in a relationship, but he knew that was bullshit. He could read Izuku like a picture book. He could see the inner turmoil, the constant struggle between what he told himself, and the way he felt. Katsuki hadn't been imagining everything. They'd been tiptoeing around their real feelings for a long time because Izuku wasn't ready yet, but he could see him warming to the idea of having a boyfriend to lean on with every passing day. They were dating in all but name, but Izuku refused to see it that way.
And now they were in a fight. Katsuki had never been so angry with Izuku—not since they'd reconnected, at least. He never wanted Izuku to see that side of him again. He never wanted him to feel unsafe or unsupported around him, and he'd let something as inconsequential as Shinso be the breaking point. They were just so close, and all Katsuki could think was mine. Katsuki was a fucking idiot, but Izuku wasn't much better.
A week went by, and Katsuki hadn't received a call or text from Izuku, but then again, he hadn't reached out either. He wanted to, but every time he started to, Izuku's words permeated his thoughts.
You're not my boyfriend, Kacchan.
That wasn't for lack of trying. This wasn't entirely Katsuki's fault, and somehow calling him seemed like an admission of guilt. Besides, he didn't want things to be like that. He didn't want Izuku pulling away and throwing that in his face every time things got tough. So, he waited. Let Izuku come to him. He always came to him eventually, and it was always worth the wait. He always let Izuku set the pace, so why change tack now?
Friday rolled around again, and both of them always had Saturdays off. Katsuki couldn't remember the last time he spent a Friday night without Izuku, and now it looked like he would have two consecutive Fridays alone under his belt. And then, blessedly, his doorbell rang. He hastened to the door at a desperately quick pace, but he couldn't be bothered to feel lame about it. Izuku was back. He was ready to talk. He opened the door, his heart in his throat.
"You have a key, you know," he said, a bit awkward, as a greeting.
"Do you want it back?" Izuku asked, and all of Katsuki's internal organs dislodged from their proper places and sank to his gut.
"Why would you ask that?" he very nearly snapped. Izuku flinched slightly. He could tell he tried to hide it, but he was unsuccessful.
"You're mad at me."
"And you're mad at me. That doesn't mean anything when—" Katsuki shut his mouth abruptly before he could say when we love each other. It wasn't the right time for that. Instead, he said, "This is normal. People get mad, and they fight, and then they get over it."
"Are you over it then?"
Not by a long shot, he thought, but he knew he couldn't say that. Katsuki felt like he was skating across cracking ice, and one step in the wrong direction would end with him suffocating in freezing water.
"I'm ready to talk about it, so we can get over it," he said slowly, like he was trying to explain something to a child.
"What if I'm not?" He asked, and Katsuki felt the ice give weigh and drop out from under him. Was this really the end for them? Over something so fucking stupid he regretted ever bringing it up?
"Call me when you are, I guess," he said, even though he wanted to take the words back as they were falling out of his mouth. His head was full of warning bells. They screamed this is how you lose him over and over again, but if a petty argument was enough to break them, were they ever capable of being anything more?
"I—Can't I come in?" Izuku asked, looking thrown by Katsuki's unwillingness to let things slide. Katsuki knew that if Izuku came in, they'd end up making out on the couch, and then their clothes would be strewn all over the apartment, and Katsuki would end up so thoroughly hypnotized and wrapped up in him that he'd lose his resolve. He didn't want to hide behind sex anymore. It wasn't enough.
"I'm actually on my way out," he said, the lie scraping out of him, smooth as sandpaper. Izuku eyed his incriminating pajama pants, clearly not convinced. He sighed, seeming to give up and give Katsuki the benefit of the doubt. Katsuki's couldn't meet his eyes for fear of giving in.
"Alright. I—" A frustrated sigh. "Okay," he said. He pecked Katsuki on the cheek before he made his retreat, and Katsuki watched him go with a sickening ache in his chest. It was not supposed to be like this.
MAYAnother month went by and Katsuki legitimately felt like he might be dying. He had a peculiar ache that plagued him constantly. It roamed around, switching between his chest and his gut and Katsuki just wanted it gone. He wasn't stupid enough to think it had nothing to do with the fact that Izuku hadn't acknowledged his existence since he showed up at his apartment just over a month ago.
He could feel the fuck off energy seething from his pores every time he was forced to interact with anyone, but he couldn't stop. He was a man possessed and it was his own stubbornness that got him into this situation.
"Dude."
"What," Katsuki said, nearly snarling at Kaminari as he sat down at his lunch table.
"You're spiraling. Tell Dr. Denki what's bothering you, so you can stop scaring all the other Pros."
"If I'm scaring Pros, they're in the wrong fucking profession."
"Textbook deflection. So what is it? Did you reconnect with your long, lost twin? Murder? The octopus complex?"
"Murder. I'm seconds away from committing it," he said, breathing through his nose to try to keep some semblance of composure. Then, because he couldn't let Kaminari's idiocy slide, he said, "And it's called the Oedipus complex, you absolute fucking dunce."
"Look, I get it. Your mom is super hot for her age, but—"
Kaminari was cut off my two rather large explosions. Katsuki hadn't had so little control of his Quirk since middle school. His short fuse was shorter than ever and as a hero in his prime his lack of restraint was embarrassing. Clearly, Kaminari was too stupid to be worried because he laughed it off.
"I'm joking, man. Come on, is it about your secret boyfriend?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Everyone else does! We're not as dumb as we look. Especially Mina—she can smell romance a mile away. Combine that with Sero's impeccable gaydar and the insatiable media coverage you get and you really never stood a chance."
Katsuki was turning red, mostly from anger, but also from slight embarrassment. He couldn't guess what the media was cooking up, and he had no desire to have his private life under a microscope. He hadn't been keeping up with social media. After he started sleeping with Izuku there was no need to check up on him because he actually told him about his life, and there was nothing better than getting that information first-hand. And now, he was ignoring social media for fear of what he might see. The one time he did look, he saw that Quake was in Musutafu. Katsuki spent that entire day beating the shit out of (and breaking) three punching bags.
"Keep your voice down," Katsuki grumbled.
"It's nothing to be ashamed of." Kaminari patted his hand awkwardly. Katsuki gave him a withering look.
"I'm not ashamed. I'm intensely private and your voice carries." Katsuki pouted, crossing his arms to stifle the tiny popping explosions he made.
"Idea!" Kaminari snapped his fingers and a spark of lighting lit them up. Katsuki imagine a lightbulb turning on above his head.
"Game night. Tonight. No excuses. We haven't had one in forever and I haven't had a meal that didn't come out of a box in ages."
"What does that have to do with game night?"
"You always cook! That's the only reason Jiro and I come over. I love her dearly, but she could mess up soup and I'm not much better."
"Soup can be complicated," Katsuki said, coming to Jiro's defense. He always liked her because she teased Kaminari mercilessly when they were in school and her playlists were badass.
"I'm talking about the kind you get from a can and heat in the microwave."
"Oh."
"We're getting off-topic. Point is, you need cheering up and I need the nutrients. Make something hearty and we'll all be over at 7."
"But—"
"No buts! See you later. Boop." Kaminari pressed Katsuki's nose like a button and another explosion popped in his left palm, unbidden.
Katsuki couldn't help but think he liked all his friends more when they were too afraid to defy him.
Bakusquad (and Jiro)
ThunderDolt created an event "Game Night."
ThunderDolt: short notice i know but our bakubaby is heartbroken and he can only be healed through the spirit of competition
Ground Zero: fuck all the way off
Super Bass: does that mean bakugo will cook? im starving
Sharknado: bakubro whats wrong? ill be there!1!
Serophane: im in. iida has too much going on at the agency to stop by but he says hi
ThunderDolt: hi iida
Super Bass: hi iida
Sharknado: hi iida
The Pink Menace: hi iida
Serophane: hi iida 3
The Pink Menace: Ground Zero bakuho say it
Ground Zero: no
Super Bass: why am i in this godforsaken chat and iida isn't?
Serophane: he used to be but he said all the messages were distracting
Super Bass: that sounds like iida
The Pink Menace: so game night? are we finally gonna talk about bakubois lover?
Serophane: a torrid love affair? oh my!
Sharknado: dont tease him
ThunderDolt: yet
The Pink Menace: that was ominous OwO
Ground Zero: im not letting you people into my home
Sharknado: see you at 7!
They were lucky he liked cooking, and that he found it relaxing. If not for his bone-deep need to chill the fuck out, he would've been content to let them all starve. He couldn't deny that it was nice not to be alone, though. His apartment seemed far too quiet without Izuku. It was driving him mad.
No matter how inane the conversation, it was nice to hear his friends chattering on the couch while he finished up dinner. He turned off the stove and wiped his hands on a tea towel.
"Alright, fuckers, come and get it."
A stampede of idiots and one broken bowl later, they all sat eating on the couch. Kaminari wouldn't stop talking with his mouth full, and Ashido was trying to convince everyone to play Cards Against Humanity. Katsuki wanted something a little more competitive—and he hated Cards Against Humanity because he could never win it.
Just as they were finishing up and deciding on the first game, there was a knock at his door. Katsuki did a quick headcount of all the idiots squeezed on his couch, only to find that everyone was present and accounted for. Who the hell else would show up unannounced? Everyone seemed to be thinking the same thing because they were all eerily quiet. Ashido and Kaminari exchanged a look that made Katsuki think of sharks smelling blood in the water. He padded quickly to the door before anyone could speak.
Of course it was Izuku, letting himself in with his key, and shirking off his shoes with frantic, reckless abandon, because what else could go wrong? He tried to close his slackened jaw when their eyes met but he failed.
"You're infuriating," he said, his eyes set with fiery determination as he slammed into a surprised Katsuki, pressing him against the nearest wall with a thud, and pulling him into a desperate, sloppy kiss. Clearly, he was done pretending he hadn't missed him in their agonizing month of silence. Izuku continued to paw at him, rather loudly, unaware of the captive audience on the other side of the wall.
"I need you to stop being mad at me. I can't take it anymore," he said, his hands already under his shirt and palming his chest.
"Oh my god," Kaminari said, giggling like the fool he was. He couldn't see them, so hopefully they couldn't actually see Izuku from where they sat on the couch.
"This sounds like the beginning of a porno. My god, Bakubitch is a lucky man." Ashido whistled. He imagined she was fanning herself, waving away the instant heat their embrace created. Izuku seemed to realize they weren't alone around the same time Katsuki's face caught fire.
"Oh. You have guests," Izuku said, his cheeks turning a pretty shade of pink. Katsuki wanted to bite them.
"Yeah," Katsuki said, his fingertips pinching the bridge of his nose to combat the stress headache he felt coming on. He felt cold without Izuku's hands on his body. He didn't know all the rules surrounding his non-relationship with Izuku anymore. Their stupid argument, and the month-long silence that followed had him second-guessing himself. He used to be so sure around Izuku, he could read his mood, tell when he was getting skittish, but now he felt like anything he said could be the tipping point. He seemed to want to keep things private, and that didn't bother Katsuki so much as the fact that he was clearly unwilling to acknowledge his real feelings for him. If Izuku couldn't acknowledge that he loved him—or even liked him as more than a fuck buddy—where could they go from there? He wasn't sure how all of his friends knowing exactly how he and Izuku spent their time would affect what they had going, but it couldn't be good.
"If you don't want them to see you, you should go now," Katsuki said, and he couldn't even try to hide his disappointment.
"Why would you think I care if they see me?" Izuku asked, his voice low to keep their conversation private. Katsuki could smell his shampoo and it made his stomach flutter. He wanted to press his nose to Izuku's fluffy curls and inhale deeply, but his pride wouldn't let him.
"Because they can't keep their mouths shut and I know you're probably not okay with that." Katsuki didn't say it in the cool, supportive way he usually did. He said it like the hurt, petty bastard he was. Izuku did not appreciate that if the look in his eye and the hard set of his jaw was anything to go by.
"Don't be stupid, Katsuki."
Katsuki couldn't think of a time when Izuku had ever used his full name, not even when they were kids. It was always Kacchan. Hearing his name now made him feel like his brain was exploding… and maybe his crotch. He resented the fact that Izuku could come in here after nearly two months of nothing and make him feel this way just by smelling like apples and saying his name. It was almost enough to make him forget he had a chorus of chucklefucks taking up all his couch space in the other room.
Almost.
"Guys, Quirkless is Bakugo's secret boyfriend!" Jiro yelled as she peeked around the corner.
"We know," Sero, Ashido, and Kirishima said in unison.
"Not fair. You bitches never tell me anything," Jiro complained.
"The fuck? Why didn't I know?" Kaminari whined.
"It's bro-code," Kirishima said, and Ashido said, "Bakubaby was embarrassed about his first crush."
"Should've gone to the Christmas party! They were eye-fucking from across the room all night," Sero said. Katsuki wondered if there was some service he could contact to trade in his friends for less-embarrassing replacements. He cast a wary glance in Izuku's direction only to find him smiling.
"Do you want me to leave?" Izuku asked, his voice a soft, hopeful whisper.
"No," Katsuki said, a slave to Izuku's time and attention. He never wanted Izuku to leave. He never wanted him to sleep anywhere but his bed, never wanted him to be more than an arms-length away, so he could always pull him close. He thought the distance he created between them would make it easier to say no to him, not harder. In truth, the distance just made his feelings harder to ignore when what he'd been denying himself was within reach. Every cell in his body missed Izuku, and he couldn't even begin to describe the contentment and comfort he felt having him around again. It was something akin to miraculously regrowing a missing limb, or finding an old keepsake he'd thought he'd lost long ago
"Jiro, nice to meet you. I'm a big fan." Izuku said, walking toward the other room. Ashido squealed, catapulted off her spot on the couch, intercepted Izuku's outstretched hand—the one that was reaching to shake Jiro's—and hugged Izuku around the neck.
"Good to see you again, cutie pie." Ashido planted a wet kiss on his cheek. Izuku only waited until she turned around to seat herself back in her spot before rubbing it away.
"Izuku, these are all my idiot friends. You've met everyone except for Shitty Hair, Dunce Face, and Earlobes. This is is Midoriya Izuku." Katsuki hoped his face wasn't still red, but he knew better. Luckily, Izuku didn't need much help integrating. He was personable, famous, and cute after all.
"I have to say I never expected Kacchan to have so many friends," Izuku said, chuckling.
"Kacchan?!"
"That's so cute."
"Kacchan, can I call you Kacchan?" Kaminari asked.
"No. Fuck off."
He had little hope that his friends would behave themselves, so he mentally strapped himself in for the evening to come. He took a little comfort in having Izuku close to him. His stomach flipped when Izuku joined him on the ground in front of the coffee table, half in his lap. He was a balm to his fraying patience. He felt full for the first time in so long.
"Nice to finally meet you, man. Kirishima Eijiro. I'm Bakubro's favorite." Kirishima smiled his biggest grin and held out a knuckle for Izuku to bump. Katsuki figured they would get along. They were both easy going and smiling more often than not.
"I'm a huge fan! I swear half my closet is Red Riot merch." Izuku may have given up on his All Might obsession, but he was still a huge hero nerd. Katsuki found a stack of hero analysis notebooks in his hall closet a few months ago. Still, Katsuki felt a little jealousy curl in his stomach at Izuku's admission.
"What's the other half?" Katsuki asked, fishing for a compliment.
"Everyone else?" Izuku said, laughing. He couldn't tell if Izuku was messing with him, but Katsuki would sell his soul to Satan before he ever outright asked if Izuku had his merch in front of his friends.
"No Ground Zero collection?" Jiro asked, asking in her usual I don't really care kind of way, but never going to pass up a chance to embarrass Katsuki. Little did she know, she was helping him.
"Nope," he said, but then held up a finger like he remembered something, "Actually, I was recently gifted a Ground Zero bento." Izuku shot Katsuki a sly smile. Katsuki blushed.
"Cute," Ashido said.
They played a whole bunch of partner games, switching up the teams for every game. Whenever Katsuki and Izuku worked together they decimated the competition. It made him swell with pride.
"Honestly, what do you see in him? You're way too good for him, Midoriya," Kaminari said.
"Hey." Katsuki threw the nearest throw pillow at him with extreme prejudice.
"Full offense, Bakugo, but your personality is like flaming dog shit, and you know this," Jiro said, and she lobbed the pillow back at him.
"Emphasis on flaming, heyo!" Sero said, and then added, "I can say that because I, too, am a flaming homosexual."
"You should be banned from saying anything ever," Katsuki grumbled. At some point in the last hour, Katsuki's arm wound around Izuku's waist, and his hand played with the hem of his shirt, his fingertips ghosting across Izuku's hipbone. Once, when he thought no one was looking, Katsuki quickly nuzzled Izuku's neck, letting his lips brush across his thin shirt, his nose in his hair. Kirishima shot him a covert, knowing look before looking away to give him a fleeting moment of privacy.
"Kacchan's not so bad," Izuku said, looking at Katsuki with something like love and lust and admiration rolled into one green-eyed package. He wanted all his friends to leave so he could melt into Izuku and give him all his attention. He'd gone too long without him and he didn't want to wait another minute.
"Kaminari, come here for a second," Katsuki said, reluctantly disentangling himself from Izuku to pull Kaminari aside. Once they were reasonably away from the group in the living room, Katsuki spoke in a low, serious tone.
"If you can convince everyone to leave in the next ten minutes I'll give you all the leftovers from tonight."
"Wow. Very subtle, horndog."
"I'll bring you lunch tomorrow, too."
"Will it be in a Ground Zero bento?" He laughed.
"You're useless. I'll ask Kirishima."
"Wait, wait! I'll do it. Don't expect your Tupperware back though."
"It's worth it. Don't you fucking dare tell anyone about this."
"Bakugo, I know we teased you a lot tonight but we're all happy for you. You don't have to be so secretive all the time."
"Don't be mushy, Thunder Dolt. Go pack up your leftovers." Katsuki scoffed and brushed past him. He wasn't good at feelings, or being thankful, but he hoped Kaminari could feel his gratitude. He had a feeling his friends wouldn't have stuck around this long if they weren't able to read him.
"What was that about?" Izuku asked, allowing himself to be pulled into Katsuki's side as he sat down next to him again.
"Nothing," he said, his voice a little husky as he tightened his arm around Izuku's midsection.
"Mmm, so you didn't ask Kaminari to clear everyone out so we could be alone?"
"No comment," he said, allowing himself to press his face into Izuku's hair and breathe deeply. Izuku pinched his arm.
"Don't be sweet to me, Kacchan. We still need to talk, remember?"
"Right," he said, and he risked pressing a kiss to his cheek to offset the one Ashido gave him earlier in the night. Izuku made a grossed-out sound, but he didn't rub it away, and Katsuki growled playfully and whispered, "Well, then mark me down as scared and horny."
Izuku suppressed a giggle in Katsuki's shoulder and lightly bit his neck.
"Wow, get a room," Sero said, rolling his eyes and turning away from them to talk to Kirishima. Jiro, clearly clued in on Katsuki's bribe, made a show of yawning and stretching.
"Wow, is it that late? Denki, let's go home."
Katsuki was thankful, even though Jiro's acting left something to be desired. Izuku couldn't keep his giggling at bay.
"We should probably go too, Mina," Kirishima said. Katsuki noticed his ears turning a little red. Kirishima had been as tight lipped about his blossoming relationship with Ashido as he'd been about Izuku. He was surprised to hear him call her by her first name, and to hear that they'd come together.
"Right! Let's hit it, babe," Mina said, the picture of nonchalance. Kirishima looked like he was malfunctioning, he was so flustered.
Sero, ever the normal person in the group, stood up to leave without much fanfare.
"I'm out. Midoriya, it was good to see you again."
"You, too. Tell Iida I said hi! And tell him to stop working so hard."
"You might need to help me convince him. Let's all get together soon, yeah?"
"Yeah!"
Finally, they were alone. To his credit, he allowed Izuku one long, wonderful kiss before he laid into him.
"So, clearly you're still interested," Katsuki said. He used his heroic strength to lay Izuku down. He straddled him and held his wrists lightly above his head. The fact that he could break free if he wanted to and still surrendered filled Katsuki with hopeful butterflies.
"I missed you. A lot." He kissed Izuku's neck.
"I know. Sero told me you've been a nightmare to be around." His smile was content, but Katsuki could see the nervous energy that radiated off him in waves.
"Fucking traitor. I need new friends," he mumbled.
"I like your friends," Izuku said, a small smile quirking his lips. "And you hardly sound like someone who's been betrayed."
"I can't find it in me to be angry at the moment." Katsuki kissed his temple, right where his scar started, and pecked a line down his cheek. He had over a month's worth of kissing to make up for.
"If this is arguing, I look forward to more of it in the future."
"I'm just getting started. Talk to me, Izuku."
"There's nothing to say on my end."
"I don't believe that at all." Katsuki let so much slide when it came to their relationship. He let Izuku clam up and shy away from the things he wasn't ready for, but he was done with that now. He wanted everything out on the table. Izuku was worth the risk of being open and vulnerable and honest. He was worth everything to Katsuki. When Izuku didn't respond for a long time, Katsuki took the lead.
"You hurt my feelings, and I'd like to hash it out."
"I didn't mean to. I'm sorry."
"And I'm sorry for being a jealous idiot. It won't happen again."
"I don't believe that, but I appreciate the sentiment." Izuku gave him an unsure smile.
"I just don't know what's okay anymore. I've been going at your pace, and I don't mind that, but I thought we really had something. And then you just… disappeared on me."
"We do," he said. It was just a whisper, and it held all the indecision Katsuki had noticed every time they got too close to anything real.
"Don't say that if you're not sure. Don't say that if you're just going to flaunt the fact that I'm not your boyfriend every time we argue."
"You're not, though."
"Well, then what are we? 'Cause we're not just friends, and it's not just sex. You like me, I know you do."
"Kacchan," Izuku said, the space between his brows crinkling in frustration.
"I'm serious. I don't know how to be and how to feel and I can barely say what we are, so just tell me."
"We're two people who enjoy each other's company. We spend time together."
"Do you enjoy other people's company?"
"Specifically guys with purple hair? No."
"I saw Shindo was in town last week. Did you see him?"
"Yes,"
"Did you sleep with him?"
"No. You're the only person I'm even thinking about sleeping with."
Katsuki felt like a dam was breaking in his chest. He was so upset. Katsuki never felt so frustrated and lost in his life. He could tell Izuku was trying to make concessions, to keep him on the hook without actually saying anything important. Once he started speaking, he couldn't stop.
"You're always so vague about everything. Dating-like behavior. Enjoying each other's company. What the fuck does that actually mean?"
"Kacchan—"
"And it always feels like we're sneaking around, but you just spent the entire evening in my damn lap in front of all my friends. You didn't correct anyone when they assumed you were my boyfriend."
"Kacchan."
"I just don't know your rules. It feels like I'm in the dark. I'm the only one fumbling here."
"Katsuki, stop talking."
"No. I need to say this."
Izuku waited while Katsuki took a hasty breath. He wouldn't be able to walk any of this back later. That was scary, but he deserved someone that wanted all of him. He wanted Izuku to know before he even thought of walking away from this.
"I just want you to be mine—unconditionally—because I've been yours for a long time."
Because I'm in love with you, he thought. It wasn't quite the right time to say that though. He was starting to wonder if there ever would be a right time. Izuku sighed, looking a little pained. He wouldn't meet Katsuki's eyes.
"Kacchan, I told you I don't really date. I don't like to complicate things, and you and I are the textbook definition of complicated in every aspect of our relationship. Every aspect except this. This works the way it is because we don't have rules."
"That's it? That's all you have to say?"
"Aside from clarifying that I don't belong to anyone but myself? No."
"You know that's not what I meant."
"I think you do. You're possessive."
"Okay." Katsuki disentangled himself from Izuku so he wouldn't have to look at him anymore. He thought once that he would take whatever Izuku would give him, but that was before he all but admitted his feelings to Izuku and he brushed him off. He was embarrassed and hurt. Rejection wasn't something Katsuki ever had to deal with—he made sure of that by never putting himself out there. But he did that for Izuku time and time again, and to say that was a big deal was putting it lightly. The more he stewed the the more his hurt turned to anger.
He padded to the kitchen, desperate for a distraction, and started washing the dishes. He was trying really hard to just shut his mouth and let the conversation die. At the same time Izuku said, "Are we good?" Katsuki said, even louder, "No rules, huh?"
Izuku narrowed his eyes like he was gauging how much answering the question would cost him. Eventually, he smiled softly.
"Yeah. No rules."
He scoffed, thoroughly done with trying to see the world through Izuku's eyes. He didn't make sense. This wasn't right.
"That's such bullshit, Izuku."
"Why are you so upset all of a sudden?"
"Because you're being a fucking hypocrite. Because you know how I feel about you—you always have—and you know you feel the same, but you keep fighting it and I don't know why." Katsuki hated the biting edge in his voice. He always fought to curb his aggression around Izuku. He never wanted to give him a reason to be afraid of him again.
"How am I being a hypocrite?" The fact that Izuku ignored the rest of what Katsuki said only added fuel to the fire.
"There are rules. They just don't apply to you. You can ignore me for a month and show up again in an instant like it's nothing. You get to barge into my apartment when I'm with all my friends and allow everyone to think we're together, but I'm not allowed to hold your hand in public, or take you to dinner, or anything else that would be totally normal for people who've been fucking for six months to do. You're the one calling all the shots, and I just fucking let you do it because I—" He cut himself off. This was not the way to tell someone you love them. This was not the way he would tell Izuku.
"And now I feel like an asshole because I told you how I feel and what I want. I don't do that with people, and you just kind of shat all over it."
"I'm sorry you feel that way, Kacchan."
"That's not the same thing as being sorry."
"I'm not sorry. You knew what this was from the beginning. I thought I was pretty clear. What do I have to be sorry about?" Izuku's eyes were cold and guarded in a way they hadn't been in so long. He was losing him. If he kept pushing, he would walk out and he'd never have any piece of him again.
"Nothing, I guess."
"Where do we go from here, then?" He could see the last little bit of hope flickering in Izuku's eyes. Hope that Katsuki would let this go. Hope that they could go on ignoring the way they both felt.
"You tell me," he said, even though he didn't mean it. You always tell me and I follow.
"I'd like to keep seeing you, but I don't want anything more."
"Be honest. Do you think you'll ever want something more with me? Could you ever feel that way?"
"I don't know, Kacchan. Can't we just live in the now?"
"I don't think so."
"What?" Izuku froze, his big eyes widening with so much hurt than Katsuki almost took it back. Instead, he dug in. Izuku wasn't the only one hurting. Katsuki had to think of himself too.
"I think you should go."
"Kacchan…"
"I need some space. I need time to think." All Katsuki could think at the moment was how he didn't want space from Izuku ever. He wanted him as close as close could get. "I'll call you."
"I hope you mean that and you're not just saying it so I'll leave."
Katsuki hoped for a lot of things. He hoped Izuku would open up. He hoped he'd be honest about his feelings, so Katsuki could finally let the dam of his love break and flood Izuku with it. He hoped it wouldn't end the way it seemed to be ending now. His hopes were dashed, so he couldn't find it in himself to care what Izuku hoped for at the moment.
It took maybe thirty seconds after he left for Katsuki to regret everything he said. It took all his strength not to run out in his house shoes and track Izuku down and tell him he was fine with Izuku's arrangement just so he didn't have to lose him. But he couldn't lose what was never really his. He didn't want to subsist on pieces of Izuku. He wanted sex and love, friendship and intimacy, and he was beginning to wonder if Izuku could ever give him that.
"What's wrong?" Kirishima asked when he'd gotten to the agency. He'd hardly slept at all since the aftermath of game night. He'd hardly done anything besides replay their conversation over and over again in his head, trying to find something he could've changed, could've said a little differently, to prevent the catastrophic implosion of the future he saw for him and Izuku.
"Nothing."
"Did you guys break up? You looked so happy at game night."
"No." You can't break up if you were never together.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Kirishima asked, soft and tentative in a tone he'd never once used with Katsuki. It enraged him.
"I would rather use my Quirk to blow up my own face than talk about it. That's not gonna change, so stop asking."
Izuku was hit by a sick sense of deja vu. Maybe that term wasn't entirely accurate, actually, because while the current predicament he found himself in was familiar—he also felt totally unmoored by it in a new and unwelcome way. Kacchan called him out. He was honest about his feelings and refused to abide anything that wasn't exactly what he wanted in a way Shindo only did at the very end of their relationship, when it was already up in flames, and he was desperate to keep the inferno at bay. Well, fine. Izuku could respect that, and Kacchan would just have to respect that Izuku would be just as uncompromising. He'd caved once before, and that had gone about as well as detonating a nuclear bomb. All it had won him was destruction, and he'd lost a friend in the process.
Izuku felt like he'd lost even more this time around, but he couldn't say he hadn't expected things to end. Everything ended. All he could do was minimize the hurt. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't hurting, but the hurt would've been so much worse if he'd let it go on, if he'd let Kacchan see him fully, if he'd been honest about the feelings he'd been harboring.
So, he'd put them away. Compartmentalizing was never his strong suit, but he would put this all-consuming hurt and this deep, unwavering attachment away. He would shove it somewhere dark and bury it six feet under whatever he could find until he forgot all about it.
He'd start that tomorrow, though. Tonight, he wanted to cry and howl and rage and mourn the loss of something he never deserved to have in the first place.