I once loved a man who was all lips and hands.

Cracked lips and hands

Calloused hands

(Caramelized hands, hot and sweet and rough and mean.

Hands that felt like home.)

Izuku loves far too much, far too easily. Even when his mother becomes more distant, he loves her. Loves her so much it hurts. He loves his father, auntie Mitsuki and uncle Masaru, and even their son, Katsuki. His Kacchan.

Especially Kacchan.

Even if Katsuki doesn't love him. Even if - when - Katsuki burns him, when he pushes him down, when he spits at his shoes. Even when he calls him Deku.

Izuku has loved him for as long as he can remember, since he knew what love was. It was always something that grew in his chest with each smile, each touch. As a child, a young child, he would often declare his love for Kacchan. And his mother would smile indulgently as Kacchan stammered and blushed.

Izuku always held out hope that Kacchan loved him as well, even if he never knew it. He knew he loved Kacchan, but was much too young to differentiate the types of love, much too young to say he loves this boy in a different way than he loves his mother. Much too young to even realize the extent of his love.

Throughout the years, Izuku always tries to see the good in Katsuki. He does not see a playground bully, or an insecure child - even if he is both. He sees bravery, strength. He sees a future hero. He sees a boy who will grow to be a man of greatness.

Izuku sees the hours of quirk training put in - sees it first-hand, when Kacchan uses concentrated explosions to intimidate him.

Even as they age, Izuku sees the good in him. Even when the insults get meaner and meaner, his admiration wins over all else. Izuku even, dare he say, loves him.

Izuku's heart had always been too big - always been his one glaring weakness besides being quirkless. His heart consumed him, and everyone else that would let it. He loved and loved until it killed him, and even then he would have love to spare. Izuku admits to himself that he loves Katsuki when he is twelve, to which he immediately tells his mother. She accepts him with open arms, of course; if she were to shun him for anything, it would be for being quirkless. Being gay is nothing in a quirked society.

"It's okay," she had said, holding him close and stroking his hair as he wept. "I'll love you no matter what. Forever and always."

Izuku had cried a lot that day - had wept on his mother's shoulders for what felt like hours, the words repeating in his head. Forever and always.

Forever and always, she said. He wondered if it was true. His curiosity killed him on the inside, but he dared not to ask, for fear that he would get an answer to shatter this illusion of normalcy, of love.

After coming out to his mom, he had come out to Mitsuki and Masaru as well. He had said it over dinner one evening, at the beginning of a long weekend. They were accepting as well, of course. Unfortunately, Katsuki was there. Not that he was homophobic, no, quite the opposite. But it's Izuku, little quirkless Deku, not a normal kid.
The whole school knew by the end of the next week. Then, not only was he quirkless, but gay, too. There was a perceived selfishness in being gay as someone like that, feeling entitled to love, be loved. To have a preference when he should be lucky if anyone loved him at all.

It's fine, Izuku thinks. It has to be. He loves Katsuki, it doesn't matter if he loves him back or not. It doesn't matter because he will never act on his feelings, only admiring from the sidelines and taking whatever is thrown at him. And he does not blame Katsuki for the suffering he endured at the schoolyard, for he knows the societal pressure he was under, knew how malleable his childish mind was.

And so, he will love unconditionally.

"C'mon, Deku," Katsuki sneers one day, hand smoking where it lays atop Izuku's shoulder. "You really still want to be a hero?"

They're only thirteen, stuck in a classroom after school, them both having detention. Izuku had gotten pushed down the stairs and accidentally shoved another boy along the way, and Katsuki had gotten caught helping an underclassman cheat.

"Of course," Izuku replies, his voice strong, no hesitation to his words. That was not the right thing to say, the fact quickly becoming overwhelmingly apparent.

"You'll never make it," Katsuki growls, eyes narrowing angrily. His voice is somehow stronger than Izuku's despite its quiet tone, so resolute. Izuku flinches slightly against his will, and he prays that Katsuki doesn't notice the minute weakness, but the boy zeroes in on it. "What will Auntie think of that? Huh? When her useless fuck of a son chases a stupid dream and dies before graduating High School?"
And that - that almost breaks him.

Just the thought of his mother sitting at the dinner table for hours and hours on end, waiting for a son that will never come home, all because he got too cocky and bit off more than he could chew, makes him want to cry. Makes him want to give up on his dreams and everything he's worked for to protect her. And he knows it's true, that he will fail, because the world will throw its largest hurdles in his way.

He would be thrown to the sharks immediately, before he could train or learn or anything, because the world is vehemently pitted against him. He will never make it in the world, with everyone against him and actively trying to make him fail.

And his throat tickles, and he's sure that he's about to cry, but he cannot feel the beginning of tears prick his eyes. But his throat closes and tickles and he instinctively wants to retch and cough until his lungs ache and his throat is raw.

He looks up at Katsuki, and he searches his face for anything. Remorse, guilt, honesty - anything. He's almost frantic as he searches the curve of his mouth and the lines between his brows, the glint in his eyes as they glare at him. There, in his eyes, is where he sees it. Worry. He's worried.

Katsuki Bakugou is worried about him, useless Izuku Midoriya.

Tears threaten to overtake him, then, because the hope that he will one day love him back is rekindled in the slightest and his heart feels overly warm in ways he cannot describe. So he smiles through the tightness in his throat, the tears that threaten to spill over.

"Okay," he whispers shakily. "I'm sorry, Kacchan."

Izuku tries to put the incident out of mind when he continues to train for the U.A entrance exam, despite it being over a year away. He's at an inherent disadvantage, he knows, so he needs all the training and knowledge he can get.

(He will look back, later, and think this was the first - the moment that started it all, because subconsciously, he knew. In his heart, in his soul, he knew - even if he never spoke of it, if he never gave a second glance, if he never thought about it for more than a fleeting second, he knew.)

Izuku admires Katsuki from afar and, for the most part, Katsuki leaves him alone. Not enough to say he's stopped bullying him, but enough for Izuku to notice the difference. And though it probably should have had the opposite effect, after the incident Izuku, somehow, fell harder. It was hard not to, when it showed that Katsuki cared, in his own weird way. Izuku knows Katsuki would never be able to show care and love in conventional ways, especially for him, due to his pride, mob mentality, and him just generally being emotionally stunted.

But even that small mercy was enough to show that Katsuki cared about him, even after all these years, despite how he acted.

So Izuku works harder, throwing himself into his studies and adjusts his training, working himself to the bone. He needs to be faster, stronger, smarter, if he wants to even get into U.A., let alone survive and prevent the picture Katsuki painted from becoming a reality. For a while, it's nice. That is, until Katsuki notices the extra muscles he's put on. Notices his climbing grades.

"Oi, Deku," Katsuki barks one day at the beginning of their lunch period. "I need to talk to you."
The class Snickers as Izuku gulps. He knows that tone - the stern one people get when they're not happy with him. The tone the teachers tend to use when referring to him. He follows Katsuki out of the room and away from the jeers of his classmates, though he couldn't have resisted if he wanted. Katsuki had an iron grip on his arm the whole way.

It feels suspiciously like walking to his death. Katsuki leads him to a secluded hallway and immediately throws him into the wall opposite of him and starts talking. The atmosphere feels foreboding, somehow.

"What the fuck is up with you?"
"What- what do you mean, Kacchan?" Izuku stammers out. The question sounds slightly like concern, though with the way his eyes are narrowed and he scowls, Izuku highly doubts that. It's best not to get his hopes up too high, anyway. Katsuki scoffs, rolling his eyes and tilting his head to his shoulder.

"Don't play stupid with me, Deku. I'm not stupid and you know it." Izuku blanches.

"I don't think you're stupid, Kacchan!" He says hurriedly, waving his hands about as if to physically dispel the thought.

"Then tell me why you're getting fucking muscles," he grits out. If it were any other situation, Izuku would be flattered - as it is now, he's blushing bright red at the simple fact that Kastuki noticed. Katsuki sneers. "You're still trying to be a hero, aren't you?"
His heart drops into his stomach, and suddenly, he feels as if he's walked into a trap. Izuku doesn't quite know how to answer that: lie to placate him, or tell the truth and bear the brunt of his frustrations. For a few seconds, his mind is completely blank. And then he goes into overdrive. His first instinct is to automatically cave, but he catches himself. He wants to get stronger, and part of that is standing up for himself, as much as it scares him.

"Y-yes, I am. I'm not going to give up on a lifelong dream just because I don't have a quirk. And you were right, last time we talked. I wouldn't survive. So I need to get stronger."
Katsuki stares, dumbfounded. He looks at Izuku as if he's never seen him before, and Izuku has the fleeting wonder of how well Katsuki knows him; if it's as well as Izuku knows Katsuki, or if that was merely another childish hope. That was clearly not the response he was expecting. And, while he does feel disheartened that Katsuki doesn't know him that well anymore, he feels a tad smug at the sheer shock that coats his features.

The smugness is quickly knocked out of him when Katsuki growls and shoves him up against the wall, knocking the air out of his lungs and leaving him breathless and reeling.

"You're so fucking stupid! Training won't get you any farther! You're still quirkless Deku, no matter how strong you get!" Izuku scrunches up his face, his ears assaulted by Katsuki yelling so close. He can feel the warmth of his breath on his cheeks and he wants to cringe away. Katsuki brings his face closer. "When will you realize that you can't do anything without a quirk?"
And with that, he stomps away, leaving Izuku alone and feeling like he just broke something fragile. He wants to say that Katsuki's just worried, as he had been all those months ago, but he can't muster up the determination to make himself believe it. A violent cough rips it way up his throat and he doubles over, the rough sounds of his coughs echoing throughout the deserted hallway.

The sort of quiet they've had is suddenly broken, and Katsuki is worse than ever before. Izuku feels as if it's his fault. If he had just given up, or even just lied to him, he could have prevented this.

(It was always meant to be this way. He can deny it, and he can postpone it, but the end result is always the same.)

Everything goes wrong when they're in the first month of their last year in middle school. The previous day, they had been given an assignment to mark down where they want to go to high school and what they want to do. The day starts out fine, for the most part, as all days tend to. It's at the end of the day that everything changes, when Izuku's teacher is grading their work.

"Oh? Midoriya," his teacher speaks in a condescending tone, glancing up over the stack of papers he'd been reading. He raises his eyebrows. "You want to go to U.A? Still?"

The room goes silent, all side conversations and snide whispering ceasing, for all of five seconds before roaring laughter fills the room. Izuku sinks back in his seat in embarrassment, slightly grateful that nobody seems to be genuinely mad or see him as a threat. Everyone just sees his dreams as a joke, a point of amusement. But as he looks around the room, he locks eyes with Katsuki, who happens to be visibly enraged. Just as he feared. The second the shock wore off, his face contorted into a large scowl, eyes narrowing into slits and hands popping dangerously at his desk.

"Hah? You really think you can get into U.A? You're fucking quirkless, Deku. I'm the only one from this shitty school that's going to U.A. You're no stronger than any of these extras, and certainly not me."
The class cries out in outrage, but Izuku just lays his head on his arms and tries not to cry. What if he's right his mind whispers. He knows he's not, but that doesn't stop the thoughts from wriggling their way into his brain and under his skin. Izuku knows he's not the strongest in the class, of course, but the implication that he's the weakest isn't true, either. He thinks.
"Settle down, Bakugou," the teacher tiredly sighs out. Katsuki growls, but obliges reluctantly. For the rest of the class, he sits grumbling in his seat, tapping his fingers against his desk impatiently. Izuku tries to ignore it, to zone out and imagine a world in which he does not exist, but the erratic tapping keeps him constantly on-edge.

When class is finally dismissed, Katsuki corners him. Izuku's classmates snicker on their way out, turning their backs on them. Izuku can't help but feel betrayed.

Katsuki's right, he thinks, none of them will ever be heroes. They're far too mean. A hero would never turn their back on a hostile situation. They are not heroes.

He quickly pushes that thought to the back of his mind. A good hero is always kind, he chants to himself silently. He must not ridicule others for their actions, instead treat people with kindness.

Izuku tries his best to pack up, but Katsuki stops him, grabbing his notebook from his hands.

"Hero analysis for the future," he mocks cruelly, flipping through the papers. He scoffs and rips a page out, throwing it to the floor, before squishing the book in between his palms and activating his quirk, charring the notebook. Izuku cries out as Katsuki throws it out the open window behind him, looking over the windowsill as his dreams become fish food and plops into the Koi pond three stories below. "Why don't you just give up?"

That must be the most insulting thing Izuku has heard. Give up? Give up on his lifelong dream, his only way to make it out of this shit hole? How is he supposed to give up now, when he's spent so long telling people that he will be great, when he's spent so long working himself to the bone to be the greatness he claims? If he flushes his dreams down the drain, listens to Katsuki, then who is he? He's centered himself around heroics; his one want, one need in life, something held so far out of reach. He's spent so long dreaming and planning that he doesn't know what he'll do if heroics isn't an option.

Giving up is simply not an option; never has been, and never will be.

"I can't!" He yelps indignantly.

"You're never going to get into U.A, so why do you even try? Why won't you stay down?"
"They accept quirkless applicants now, though!"

"And why do you think no quirkless person has ever gotten in, huh?"
Izuku doesn't respond, tongue held tightly between his teeth, hands curling in his uniform. His throat tickles slightly, a scratchy feeling that makes him want to retch everywhere. He can feel the phlegm clinging to his throat, making him grimace. Katsuki decides to land his final blow, stalking forward and placing a hand on Izuku's shoulder. Though he can't see the other boy's face, he knows the expression he wears, can tell it from the pressure he puts in his footsteps, can almost see the cruel smirk that mangles his nice features into something much more ugly.

"Because they're too weak," he whispers, directly in Izuku's ear. The phlegm clogs his throat, suddenly, and he's hit with both the metaphorical and literal feeling of breathlessness. "No matter how hard they try, they still come up short." Katsuki's palm pops atop his shoulder painfully, singing his uniform and blistering his skin.

"If you really want to get into UA," he says, taking his hand off Izuku's shoulder and beginning to leisurely walk out of the classroom. "Take a swan dive off the roof of the building and hope for a quirk in your next life!"
Izuku whips his head around, barely catching sight of Katsuki's retreating figure, his head thrown back as he cackles. And, despite himself, and the situation he finds himself in, he still finds that Katsuki's laugh is the most beautiful he's ever heard.

His heart thumps loudly in his ears, blocking the sound of Katsuki's laughter as tears prick his eyes and his throat closes up. He coughs harshly out the window, slapping a fist against his chest to dislodge the phlegm, only for a clot of blood to fly out and into the water instead. He stares wide-eyed and wipes his mouth, a thin string of pink saliva connecting his hand to his lips.

(And this, this is the beginning of the end, he will think later. This is the point of no return, a ditch in which he is stuck as it fills with water.)