( ◣∀◢)ψ

i am floating

it feels like on water— no
ice, no

air.

my lungs are too brittle
to breathe
in and out, my mind goes
though i try to stay

alert,
it hurts my brain, and
my body goes limp

i am sinking...
into the swirling, churning feeling that
i've utterly failed
at conquering love
again.

Again.

Did you know that for one to float, they must remain still and calm?

It matters.

If you don't want to sink, if you don't want to drown, it matters.

No one knows, but after baring my soul to Deku in the pouring rain, I vowed to become calmer within myself, even though it completely clashed with my Quirk's urges and grated against my sense of sensibility. The near-death experience in Jaku City triggered an earth-shattering Quirk awakening that left me breathless, unveiling a new realm of possibilities for what we could do together. Be together.

My Quirk and me.

Deku and I.

But I quickly learned it would have to come after the Final War…

After resurrecting from the dead, after healing from what should've been irreparable damage, and after the endless, painful physical therapy to recover, after drawn-out Quirk post-traumatic counseling sessions, dealing with overbearing and paranoid parents, and settling back into some fractured semblance of a normal life…

My calmness would come only after everything I did to process not just a near-death experience but actual death and its implications now that I was alive again. I desired to be Izuku's source of peace. For years, I felt on edge around him, even though I'd never admitted the reason why, not even to myself. The truth was, Izuku had always been my reliable source of comfort when I needed it the most, despite my consistent efforts to push away his love.

My awakening illuminated everything: I was prepared to transform my life, ease my intensity, and, if necessary, submit to his love— even floating on my back to welcome him.

But I got cold feet the night I felt I was defying gravity.

"Uh, hey, Katsuki?"

I swung around, eyebrows raised, eyes wide. Those fools never called me by my first name. What the fuck was up?

Kirishima and Kaminari timidly approached me after we got out of the bath, where we'd left Dek… Izuku to soak in peace. His fight against us earlier that evening had been hard-fought and fraught. It was a real struggle for love and belonging if I'd ever seen one. Well, I had but—

But we won, and he was back.

"What?" I sharply replied, already annoyed by the two clowns before me. I was tired, hungry, and daunted by the fight looming ahead. Shigaraki had no intention of showing Deku any mercy, and an unsettling, almost ominous sensation crept up my neck and coiled around my throat each time I thought about it. No matter what happened, I needed to be more than ready when the other shoe dropped.

"Y'know, Denki and I were talking..." He clumsily tended to the white towel sliding down his hip bone. Kiri hesitated, carefully glancing at the fool next to him as though they were preparing for an intervention.

I arched an eyebrow. "About what?" I impatiently inquired, scowling at the bullshit I knew was coming my way. "Me?"

"Well, yes!" Kaminari said, stepping closer with a gleam in his eye. You know we're always talking about you, dear sweet Kacchan," he said, smooching the air between us.

"Don't call me that," I barked, disgusted and annoyed. There was only one person who could call me that, only one who I'd let kiss me no matter where or when, and the guy who accidentally electrocuted himself whenever he got excited wasn't him. Kirishima stepped between us before my smacking hand landed on our friend.

Kami surrendered, throwing his hands up and backing up until Kiri was between us.

"It's just- don't you think this is the perfect time to…you know…" Kiri offered like it was charity and I, a beggar. My eyes narrowed. What was he getting at?

"To what?"

Kiri fidgeted beneath my piercing stare, shrugging and looking away to finish his thought before he let out a deep sigh and stared at me with pitiful crimson eyes. "To say how you really feel to Deku, man."

I shot an angry look at my best friend's sympathetic expression. Could he tell how much my heart was hurting still, even though our mission had been a complete success? My cheeks flushed with embarrassed annoyance at his ability to read me better than I cared to admit. My chest flared with the terrible heat of emotional exposure. How annoying! How would he know what I was feeling? That I was holding onto more feelings than my words could express.

"Eijiro," my voice growled irritably. I yanked him by the collar around the locker room's corner and whispered for the first time in my life.

"Yeah! You know, now that you've already apologized for everything in the past. It might be good for you." With his eyes darting between Kiri, who followed behind, and me, he added shyly, "Oh – are we not discussing that…?"

"No one asked you, dumbass!" I crossed my arms and glared at them both, feeling so frustrated that my blood was boiling and rattling my bones. "What the fuck are you two talking about?"

Dragging them both by their earlobes, I rushed out of the locker room. Deku was too close within earshot for this conversation, and I knew those idiots didn't even think about that. But I doubted they understood what they were even asking me. I'd never talked about my feelings for Deku with anyone, not even Kirishima.

"Did you miss my very public apology, you fools?" I growled under my breath. It was more like a public love confession, but I wouldn't get bogged down in emotional details while berating him. It felt easier to shame them for trying to air me out than to answer him boldly with the truth.

"I already told Deku exactly how I felt—all that matters to be said was said. I will be the number one hero. Who the fuck told you there was anything else on my mind?"

Kiri stood speechless, while Kami appeared completely unfazed; neither believed my lie.

"What?!" I snapped. I hadn't realized my true feelings were so obvious, but their stares made me feel like I had three heads, which started irritating me. A surge of embarrassment engulfed me and made my stomach lurch. Had I really been that transparent? "Spit that shit out or shut the fuck up. I've had a long-ass day, and I've still got shit to do."

"Aw, bro," sympathy drawled from Kami's tone, and I wanted to slap the tastebuds right off his tongue. "It's us, Bakubro. You can talk to us, man."

"Yeah! Emotional honesty is manly. I promise," Kiri cajoled me, slapping his monstrously hardened palm on my shoulder. It didn't hurt, but it was condescending simply because I did not want to admit he was right. I twisted his wrist off of me.

Kami waved his hand dismissively in front of Kiri's face, rolling his eyes. "Sure, that, and we're sick as shit of seeing you pine after Deku all the time and do nothing about it but blow him up."

"Or blow up at him and Todoroki when they're hanging out," Kiri added with an agreeing nod.

"Yeah! That, too! You're such a bashful bully, d'ya know that?"

"Yeah, it's like you don't know how to express your emotions, so you inappropriately channel all that passion into your fists," Kiri said as he circled his hands around his heart center. "It's like you're emotionally constipated, bro."

"Exactly! You're like a backed-up emotional piece of shit, Bakugo."

"ENOUGH," I exploded. "Who the fuck died and made you two Oprah and Doctor Phil?" They stared at me with wary eyes but said nothing else.

Fuck that. Fuck them. Fuck this!

Fuckkkkk. They were right. They were so goddamn right! How humiliating!

I let my head hang, that sunken feeling in my pit sloshing around in full force. "Just- just shut the fuck up, okay?! What do either of you know?" A few warning sparks of Explosion trigger from my sweating palms.

"Yeah…" Kiri chuckled.

"Sure we don't," Kami mocked as they both retreated from the hallway, unconvinced by my bravado.

First came the light double-rap on my door.

Then, the shifting sound of paper slipping under my door. Finally, the ding of a "message received" alert on my phone.

I grumbled at the multiple interruptions; it was too much stimulation in three seconds, and I had been nursing a headache since dinner time for…reasons. But I needed to be sharp for the war that would change Hero society forever and the impending battle between One For All and All For One, with Deku at the center of it all.

I placed the dumbbell in my left hand on the floor and put the orange highlighter in my right hand on the notes on my desk. While I was confident that our entire class was diligently training for the war because they'd foolishly entrusted the weight of Japan's Hero society to an academy of child soldiers who cared about a fellow child soldier with a big savior complex, I didn't give a damn about what anyone else was doing to prepare; Deku's life was on the line.

I refused to let him die without me.

Instinctively, I checked my phone for the time, but the message notification banner made me completely forget what I saw.

I/DK

Hey Kacchan are you awake? I'm outside your door.

My breath caught, and my heart raced. Deku stood just outside my door. I hit pause on the punk rock playlist Jiro had sent me, my finger trembling with anticipation, then glanced at the folded white paper on my doormat before standing up and adjusting my loose basketball shorts. I grabbed a shirt as an afterthought, pulling it over my head while the collar absorbed the few beads of sweat forming on my forehead.

Each nervous step made my body feel heavy. As I slowly approached the sheet, dread tightened my throat into a knot. The last time a note slipped under my door was a goodbye letter that broke my heart. I bit back the urge to ignore it just for that bitter memory. (Deku didn't even leave it for me by himself, getting All Might to do his dirty work!)

But…

Deku was right outside my door, and it was late. My heart skipped rocks and plummeted into my ass. What was this sudden feeling liquefying through my body?

As I leaned down to grab the paper, I noticed the hallway light and the shifting shadows of his presence beneath my dorm room's door. Unfolding the paper startled me more than the text did. My stomach churned as hope flooded my chest.

I'd be lying if I said I took my time opening the door. I swung it damn near off the hinges, holding the creased sheet over my face and biting the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling.

"What the fuck is this, nerd?! And don't you know what time it is?" I grumbled, trying even harder not to sound as giddy as my heart felt. I needed him to see, to know that nothing between us had changed and that we were still who we always were, even after my heartfelt apology— rivals. Yes, I meant every word I said about wanting to be his equal me feeling like the world's biggest dickhead all our lives, but that didn't mean I wanted things to get weirder between us.

"It's just after midnight," he remarked, his scarred hands warm, calloused, and assertive, gently cradling my clenched fist. My heart raced at his tempered touch, which frustrated me. What does it reveal about me that he could effortlessly make me feel safe and secure as if he wasn't the one in mortal danger? I wrung the paper tightly in my grip, ashamed.

Successfully calming the storm raging inside me, the prodigal boy with a heart too big for this world to contain, let alone cherish, gently moved the crinkled paper out of my face. We faced each other for the first time in weeks, dry and subdued, and Deku's smile disarmed me like a bomb about to detonate at the last moment. He looked so damaged by the world.

And in that moment, I resented everyone responsible for his current state, including myself.

Yet, those tired eyes, gleaming with recognition and crinkling at their edges, looked happy to see me. So forgiving. So pretty. So…

Fuck.

Those soft eyes held me, considered me, and observed the unmistakable signs that the tension between us had lifted: the brightening of my red irises, the widening of my dilated pupils, and the relaxation of my clenched jaw… a cautious smile creeping through my tough façade. Once they were all apparently there, he pulled me into a deep embrace.

I was stunned into stillness. But it didn't last long as all my mixed feelings about how to proceed with our… friendship?… disappeared.

The sudden rush of his body heat warming my chest lowered my defenses even more. It was a soft warmth, similar to the cozy feeling of sunlight gently kissing your face after a snowy day—so different from the intense heat of my Quirk. My shoulders relaxed, my grip softened, and my expression shifted, revealing the façade of fear and uncertainty—my vulnerability.

"I was so scared you'd die out there," I finally admitted, my voice hushed and tight.

"Sorry," he murmured into my shoulder, pulling me nearer.

How does one describe a hug that means more than words can express? The firmness of his chest against mine tightened the delicate red thread tying our fates together, drawing me further into love and making me realize how much I had truly missed him. More than I had let myself admit before. I'd been too pissed and too panicked to think about missing him while he was gone. He hadn't picked up a single call or answered a fucking text, and… it scorched my sense of self-esteem that he ghosted me. Though the pettiest parts of me found solace in the fact that he had ignored Todoroki, too.

But now? Shit. All I wanted to do was cry into his protective arms and allow myself to unravel at my heart's tightly stitched seams—happy tears that he was safe.

Finally.

Home, where I could never lose sight of him again.

I felt him shudder in my arms. Deku's dense muscles tensed and quivered as he held me closer than I thought possible, making breathing nearly impossible. But I refused to complain—even if I tried. I have dreamed of the tenderness of his touch every day since he left. Since I realized I missed everything about him—his smile, eyes, voice, mind, and body so close to mine. So, I held him tighter, squeezing out whatever pain he still struggled to release. I was prepared to wring out every impure ounce of fear that living on the run had dropped into his unadulterated essence. I would not let Deku be tainted by hopelessness and despair.

It still broke my heart to sense him release the pressing weight of his sadness onto me, and I wished on everything I treasured that I could always be his refuge. I held him tighter, wet cheek pressed against wet cheek, and the god in me promised to murder every villain that had marred him in this way.

Releasing me, Deku brushed his bushy hair out of his weary face. A wet smile warmer than the sun softened his eyes, melting time into something more meaningful than the present cares of war. His charming smile had returned.

To me.

More than anything in the world, I wanted to kiss the plush, pink lips that stretched wide to softly greet me: "Hey."

But I kept my cool. Dark Deku was angry enough for every lifetime, so I needed to control myself and behave.

"Hey, yourself, nerd," I said just as softly.

The corner of my lip twitched against my will, failing to suppress a smile. My gaze swept over his boyish features, aged and pale, and my chest deflated in sorrow and relief. He may have gone through hell, but I knew every crevice and corner of Izuku's face. Deku didn't look like everything he'd been through after fighting his friends, having had a good bath and eaten a nice, hot meal. I mean, he still looked like shit, but still…

Cute.

"Welcome back. I thought you fell asleep in the lounge."

Once I saw Deku nod off to sleep on the couch, covered in a blanket by Todoroki, safe and protected by his closest friends as they chattered and laughed around him, I headed up to my room.

I left earlier than everyone else, exhausted. I was too emotionally drained from fighting Dark Deku while grappling with my own thoughts, too overwhelmed by the feelings raging within me.

Each night Deku spent away from UA drove me crazy, stealing my sleep. Now that he was back and safe, I could rest easy. I could—

Deku hummed, nodding while suppressing a heavy yawn. "Todoroki walked me up to bed a bit ago-"

Oh. Of fucking course.

I bit my tongue until the thick metallic bite of warm blood coated my tastebuds, jealousy creeping up my throat like bile. It should've been me.

"-But I couldn't sleep." He eyed me expectantly. "Can I…come in?" he inquired with an anxious smile, and I struggled to suppress the swirling pool of longing rising in me. Why did he have to be so damn cute when he was shy?

Without another word, I poked my head into the hallway, close enough to feel his breath against my lips, and kiss him right in the middle of the hallway. I'd had fantasies of doing that— pinning him against the outside of my door and taking his mouth into mine, licking his slick tongue and gripping his neck with the thick rings around my knuckles while devouring those pillowy red lips puckered against me with so much passion —Class-A gossip be damned.

As tempting as the fantasy would be to act out, I changed my mind and looked in both directions before yanking the boy who stole my heart into my bedroom. Yet, like a blown-out flame, I sensed (or imagined) a flicker of disappointment dancing beneath his fluttering eyelids for a split second.

For an instant, my heart missed its next beat.

"So, do you like it?" He glanced down at the paper in my fist, which I thrust against his chest. "What? Don't tell me-" he said playfully, rolling his eyes. "-you hate the art style, don't you?" Crestfallen, he stared at the wrinkled paper. "Tch, I was trying something new," he said with a wryly.

I ignored his question, and the words I wanted to say were caught in the middle of my throat— No, I love it. I love you. But I can't resist kissing you when you look at me like that!

I took my time closing the door, shaking the fantasy out of my mind. It was a colossal feat, taking slow, deep breaths before facing him, my heart slamming in my chest.

It'd only been six hours since I held him limp and teary-eyed, soaking wet in my strong arms. Deku was weathered and wounded in ways I did not understand, and I hated myself for being unable to temper the burning desire swelling in my groin to recreate that crying scene with my tongue and fingers. Only this time, milking away all his pain until he was emptied, leaving only pleasurable thoughts and feelings inside.

But now was not the time to demonstrate my true desires. It wasn't the right time to go back to the old Kacchan and Deku love games, where he chased, and I ran, where I pounced, and he surrendered.

No more stealing kisses. No more shoving away hugs. No more hiding my feelings in Deku's warm folds under the coverings of night.

Things would be different this time around.

I braced myself as the breathtaking view of him enveloped me, sending shivers through my body. His freckled cheeks grinned at me while wide, expressive eyes gazed at my stiff figure, leaving me utterly breathless.

Gorgeous.

"Kacchan?" he called out, his brows furrowed with worry.

I refocused and felt a flush at how rough my voice was, betraying my concealed desire. "When did you even have time to draw this, Dek- Izuku?" I clicked my tongue in annoyance. I needed to get my shit together and get used to saying his real name now—like he fucking deserved.

He grimaced when I fumbled his name. "I already told you, Kacchan. If it hurts you to say it, don't," he said, rolling his eyes. But he didn't pout this time; he yawned, unbothered, and I'd be lying if I said his indifference didn't feel like being impaled again.

"It doesn't," I murmured, feeling even smaller than Mineta, but my increasing insecurity was soon replaced by renewed awareness.

This was Deku's first visit to my dorm room. I never cared for doing stuff where I slept, so we always went into his room whenever I felt pent up.

See? Like I said, different.

"Huh? What doesn't? I'm confused." Pulling his attention away from my All Might figurines and luxury fragrances displayed on my dresser, he picked up a rare All Might cola bottle cap, and I could have sworn his lip quivered with affection. He glanced at me. "Sorry, my brain and body are still catching up to the change of events."

"It doesn't hurt me to say your name, nerd," I grumbled, averting my gaze. I pressed play on Jiro's punk playlist and let the metal clangings of bass and percussion wash over the awkward silence. "And I don't hate your new art style," I said, blushing red.

For as long as I've known him, Izuku has possessed natural talents in areas that I can only strive to achieve through time and effort, with visual art being one of his many Quirkless meta abilities. So, of course, I was jealous of him for so long—his attention to detail puts mine to shame.

I took one final look at the paper—an intricately detailed and artistic drawing—and neatly tucked it into my back pocket, making a mental note to steam the wrinkles out. He smiled and nodded, floating closer to my desk and exploring my intimate space. I carefully observed him from behind as his eyes searched my tidy room. The closer I watched Izuku, and how he settled into his body now that he was safe, the more I became aware of something odd.

Deku, once shorter and scrawnier than me, now appeared taller, and more muscular. His stiff posture and swift movements indicated a composed vigilance, as if he perpetually remained on guard, cautious of becoming prey yet poised to strike like a predator. The heaviness of the overgrown and washed hair falling over his jaded eyes seemed to weigh down his taut, broadened shoulders. How much more measured in step and solemn in tone he has become. Every reverberation of his breath and body revealed the depths of his transformation in such a short time.

This was not the Deku— the Izuku —I knew.

Sure, I expected him to change, in theory. Fighting established villains alters young heroes, and I couldn't imagine the horrors he faced while he was gone. Who did this to him? What did he have to sacrifice in each fight to win? When was the last time he slept carefree—when was the last time he slept at all? Then again, where could he have found peace out there, and why did he feel he had to bear the burden of a hero alone?

(Only later would life teach me the traumas of war.)

But the apprehension squeezing my chest eased as he looked around my dorm. A phantom itch of a long-forgotten memory of him in my childhood bedroom tickled my mind. His voice, now deeper (and more…serious),oozed impressed.

"It's really stylish in here. Almost like a refined version of Tokoyami's room," he said, thoughtfully nodding as he considered my interior decoration skills. The black skull bedding, blood-red curtains, and fiery orange explosion wallpaper, accented by hints of greenery from houseplants, didn't impress me much; I honestly could've created something better with more time to refine my design ideas.

But Deku looked enamored by my metal-punk theme mixed with band, All Might, and Best Jeanius posters. He chuckled, "Nice," under his breath as his eyes grazed the straw hat skull and crossbones Jolly Roger on the wall facing my bed. A flush of embarrassment spread across my cheeks as he flexed his hand slightly before picking up my gold medal from the Sports Festival, a warm smile spreading across his face.

"Don't compare me to that bird, man!" I snapped out of instinct. I didn't mean it and instantly felt like a damn brat.

Deku hummed disinterestedly, seemingly unfazed by my annoyance, as he shifted from my bookshelf to my desk. His fingers brushed against my writing tools and art supplies. The intricate battle plans I had been reviewing met his gaze. He grabbed my extensively coded notes and settled at the foot of my neatly made bed.

"Thank you again for coming to save me from myself." If he felt anxious, I couldn't tell; he focused intently on the composition notebook. Unfazed. Even if he recognized that I'd started using his favorite notebook brand, he said nothing.

I, on the other hand, was a fucking nervous wreck.

"It wasn't just me. Todoroki and I…" I choked on my words. I don't know why I mentioned that man right now, out of all the people and things I could've said instead. "I mean - The whole class was worried about you," I mumbled and leaned against the wall, crossing my arms defensively. If I were pouting, don't judge me.

Truth be told, I just wanted him home. Not being able to lay eyes on him during the weeks he was away from UA felt like I was living in a horrific alternate universe where we didn't coexist. I couldn't dream while knowing he was living a nightmare. I couldn't sleep without wondering how long he'd been awake. What was the point of consuming food or having fun when, knowing Deku, he was fasting while fighting? I hated that—I hated knowing he wasn't safe even if he wasn't scared. That he was alone and aloof to how much he didn't have to be. I could sense his suffering from dozens of meters away. So, I was down to do whatever it took to bring him back.

However, now that I could express my truth without anyone else to hear, I was taken aback by the unexpected cottonmouth that seized my throat. Was I truly this scared?

Deku glanced up, his eyes drooping, looking at me like I was an idiot.

I am.

"The whole class, huh?" He echoed my empty words as if picking out stubborn food with a toothpick. He then shifted his attention back to meticulously examine the color-coded notes he was leafing through, remaining completely unfazed. If he noticed that I'd adopted his note-taking and study methods, it didn't show.

He nodded, seemingly about to make a sarcastic remark, but remained silent. Instead, he shifted back on my bed until his back pressed against the wall, propping himself up on his strong arms and toned legs, clad in sleep shorts. His entire body took up a third of the mattress. He looked sensual without trying, and his warm, inviting nature sprawled out where I slept, turning me on.

Lie down, Izuku.

You're worn out.

Sleep here.

Stay with me, I wanted him to tell him.

Let me take care of you.

I'll keep you safe from harm.

I'll protect you in my arms, my mind begged my mouth to say.

I am here for you.

Please, Izuku, choose me. Trust me.

I'll never leave you to fight alone again, my soul urged me to promise.

But I froze.

Shoto probably never freezes, a bitch-made voice menacingly growled inside me. Envy burned my nerves to ashes like dried twigs.

"If you have something to say–" I snapped.

His cool tone when his eyes rose to meet mine made me docile, the unearned fire immediately extinguishing. "I overheard your conversation with Kirishima and Kaminari in the locker room."

I arched an eyebrow and pursed my lips. This was the worst-case scenario!

"You were eavesdropping on my conversation?"

"No!" Deku said defensively, and the way he blushed… Mannn, I wish he'd have drawn that for me instead.

"I came to talk to you about what you said earlier when you - the class - saved me in the rain."

I shifted from foot to foot, unable to meet his gaze now penetrating my façade. "What about it?" My lips turned downward, unable to predict what would come next. I was nervous—no, anxious— that a wave of rejection was about to capsize me.

He chewed on his bottom lip as if mulling over his following words.

"What did they mean about you telling me how you really feel?" His voice was quiet and careful, yet it carried a hint of curiosity.

I kept my eyes glued on my All Might area rug—the same one from my childhood. I thought about how many times Deku and I played games, fought with action figures, and watched cartoons together, laughing and arguing over childish things on that mat.

I missed that. I wanted that back.

"Nothing. Those idiots share a single brain cell. No telling what their dumbasses meant," I grumbled out the lie. I lied so badly it coated my throat thick with guilt.

So, why couldn't I just take what I wanted now?

"Oh," Deku said. My eyes flickered across his face to find him looking… disappointed?

No, my mind was merely deceiving me, indulging in the pipe dreams of my desires.

He sighed—for what reason?—and perked up the corner of his lip. "It's just... you did all the talking—I mean, apart from me apologizing for saying you couldn't keep up..." His heavy eyelids still carried remorse for his shitty statement. Though it felt like lightning piercing my core when he said it, I couldn't blame him even if it was clearly a complete fucking lie.

But was it really? I couldn't keep up with Deku, the pro or the person out there; I barely managed to do so in class. I was always chasing him to prove that I was good enough to be by his side, even when I promised to surpass him.

And let's be real. I needed help to catch up to him. I couldn't do it on my own. As Iida and Todoroki were barreling through the sky, I held on for dear life for my chance to touch the hem of his cape. It seared my brain to ash how weak I was, how I couldn't save him on my own, how pathetic I was to have to enlist the help of the man who made Deku smile and feel safe all on his own. That's all I've ever wanted to be.

But I knew Deku wouldn't want to hear that.

I sucked in a long pull of air just to settle my stuttering heart and sat in my desk chair. "I already told you, I know. It's cool, Izuku." I turned around to find something to do to distract myself from the way my stomach flipped and lurched with emotions I didn't know how to reconcile.

"No. Wait." He shook his head, suddenly gripping my wrist. Instinct almost had me shake him off, but his calm touch felt like melted butter on my hot skin. I stilled before turning back to face him. He released his grip as if I had burned him, gazing at me from under his long lashes with eyes wide and burning with something I was too afraid to trust.

But I want to.

"I thought you'd want to hear my thoughts, too," he said, staring at his fidgeting fingers.

"Oh." I could only swallow my nerves and silently wait for him to continue. He threw me a timid smirk before placing the notebook back on my desk. It was a bid for connection. I knew it.

I wanted it.

"Okay," I said. The soothing joy of sharing my bed with the one person I desired above all else rested against my chest, filling me with a sense of amusement at his quirks. I leaned back, crossing my arms and legs. "Spit it out already, nerd."

We must've sat in that tense silence for minutes on end, staring into each other's contrasting eyes, refusing to cower in the silence our distance brought and that our reunion begged to fill with something, anything more than what we once were. The itch of anticipation mounted in my chest, slamming my heart against the walls of my rib cage. Sitting in the chair no longer felt right. I sprawled across the length of my bed, my back flush against the wall, and propped my head and weight on my elbows and hands. Deku's gaze flashed with a thought I couldn't read; his lips opened and closed. Finally, Deku let out a heavy sigh, relaxing his folded legs into my sheets.

"You said so much tonight that I really do appreciate, but you also said some things that I disagree with."

My eyebrows stitched in confusion. "Like what?" I grunted.

Leaning forward, Deku spread his hands wide across the bed's surface between us. He concentrated on the texture of his taut skin and his careful choice of words instead of me.

"...About you. But I'm not going to rehash things in my old muttering way with you," he smiled guiltily. I'd never wanted more badly than to be the listening ear to his neuro-nerdy mutterings, having shocked myself by how much I missed that too, but all I could focus on was how he said 'old' like he had put off childish things like info-dumping about his special interests. Was I a special interest that he'd put off, too?

God, I hope not.

He lifted his head to look at me intently, clutching my comforter for support. "I just want you to know I forgave you long ago, Kacchan. So, let's beat Shigaraki and All For One together!" The whites of his eyes were clear as day, and his pupils burned with readiness. Back to hero business, as usual, like my apology hadn't meant more than just being battle buddies? He was ready to move on just like that?

The cheesiness of his speech made me cringe, but my disbelief betrayed my cool. I frowned. "Why?" I felt I hadn't earned his forgiveness yet; that public apology barely scratched the surface of atonement, and a small part of me craved punishment from him. When I said I would work for it, I meant it. I truly wanted to redeem myself. I had no delusional expectations that all would be easily, let alone prematurely, forgiven.

"Izuku, I hurt you," I said dangerously low, sliding onto my bed beside him. Even for Deku's unconditionally kindhearted ass, this was too much for me. A guilty fire raged in my stomach while the smoke of shame enveloped my chest. Was it normal to experience heartburn from such unconditional love? I didn't feel worthy of being pardoned for my sins so freely!

Deku tilted his head at me, his face a mix of amusement and confusion, and a knowing smirk curled at the corner of his lip. His eyes still sparkled like they used to. Good. I was afraid that being a vigilante had worn out their lust for life. They stared at me, intensely boring through my weak defenses for a long moment and knocking on the doorway to my soul.

Why he didn't just kick the door down, I don't know. Deku's always had the key, yet he still asks for permission. I caused him to feel timid and insecure about approaching me freely. Shoto didn't do that to him. Shoto didn't treat him like a nuisance, didn't make him pause, or second-guess his every action towards him. Shoto didn't—

"Because," he rasped, his eyes holding with something intimate between their heavy lids as one of the strong hands gripping my sheets slowly found its way to my knee. I jolted at the gentle grazing of his fingers, sending goosebumps prickling down my arms as he softly stroked my exposed skin with his thumb. Suppressing the shiver flowing down my spine, my face flushed at the returning heat pooling in my groin.

"Kacchan." His soft voice, alluring and whispering the name that only he could utter, paired with his delicate touches creeping up my thigh, sent chills rippling through my body. He edged nearer, his unencumbered hand softly cradling my cheek. "You're my best friend," he whispered, and every sense in my system believed him.

He meant it the way I meant it when I called him a rival. I gasped.

"Deku- what're you doing?"

But those four words leaving his supple lips might as well have been the big three—they might as well have said, "I love you, Kacchan." For, that's how they sounded to me. That's how each word reached and beat against my eardrums, pressing against my heart. As Deku's fingernails deliciously scratched against the inside of my thigh, I turned on my back, my arms crossed behind my head. He was so close.

"You're not wearing boxers," he purred and bucked at the sexy sound of his voice. I needed to distract myself, though I didn't want him to stop.

"What do you mean I'm your best friend?" Shamefully, I heard my voice tremble as he slowly slid his hand over my shorts, covering my bulge. And I was bulging.

But the pleasure building in my pit felt undeserving. How could I ever be this special to him? I'm the one who pushed him away. I'm the one who ranted and protested, shouted, kicked, and knocked the shit out of his senses every time he tried to get close to me.

Now, I was losing my mind as Deku sounded so sure when he said those four words and looked so confident while watching his hands trail my body. His confidence twisted my stomach in knots from guilt and regret of all the time spent that was truly just wasted.

The swelling pressure of the heel of his palm rubbing against my crotch shut my mind right up as mindless pleasure rushed through my limbs, making my heart float on clouds that reached high above my fear and ego. My eyes fluttered closed from the exhilarating sensation, forcing me to catch my breath. This was where I wanted us to stay; I imagined this was the only realm in which we existed.

Then, it felt as if I had suddenly been dropped straight out of heaven.

I bit back a groan as a phantom chill replaced his retreating hand on my groin, frustrating me as I heard Deku's pout dance with his words. "What do you mean?" he whined.

My eyes slowly blinked open, my vision too fuzzy with arousal to focus on any one spot, "What? Don't stop," I huffed desperately, my chest heaving. Deku's adorably frowning face was still vivid to me, pinning me down with a dark seduction in the pits of his pupils. He was enjoying this, having me under his mercy and control, and it was sinful how beautiful and conflicted he looked down at me, like a villain he was in love with—maybe that was just a wishful prayer.

"Then don't make me," he said back and went back to slipping his hands beneath the length of my shorts and making his way back to the warm, wet patch he'd caused. Something fragile shone in those disillusioned, war-worn eyes that made me wonder for a split second why he was pleasuring me. Frustration, maybe? If so, it was my fault.

Everything about us, between us, was my fault. Still, I felt myself unraveling under his even touch. I slightly spread my legs as my gut warned me that I was entering a landmine and to proceed cautiously. If not, whatever shattered would be by my own doing.

I gripped his wrist just before his digits sank beneath my sorry excuse of an elastic waistband.

"Kacchan," he cautioned sternly, his brows knitted together.

I rushed out my words. "What about Todoroki? Ururaka? Iida," I asked, my breath hitching with each name of his beloved crew.

He considered my question, casually humming, "Hm… They are, too," he mused. A quip smirk hooked the corner of his lips—lips I so desperately wanted to kiss. "But…" he stopped his sentence and shook off my hold, stopping right at the tip of my dick, and it jumped on contact.

"But you're my first friend."

Maybe it was his answer or the way he answered, but a soft, desperate moan slipped from my slacked jaw as he rolled the pad of his thumb over my dick, beads of pre-cum rolling out of my head's leaking slit as if summoned by his careful touch. I would've been embarrassed by how whiny I sounded. I should've been embarrassed, but the rolling concentration of Deku's thumb on my throbbing head did not stop, and the salacious glint in Deku's eyes told me he wouldn't stop without intervention, and I had no intention of intervening. So I couldn't care less about the obscene sounds tumbling from my throat.

I bit my bottom lip until I broke skin—partially to hold onto the sudden rush of arousal mounting and hardening my already erect cock, and also to buy time as I foolishly scrambled for another reason to refuse his kind offering. I couldn't receive it freely, even though the power of Deku's friendship literally saved lives. All I'd ever done was make him a living hell. Yet, here he was, turning my bed into a paradise instead of the prison I'd encased my hidden feelings.

"B-But I-," I stammered my thoughts out my heavy tongue when he pressed down on my sensitively pulsing top, begging for friction.

Shifting his weight to sit beside me as if he could read my thoughts, Deku leaned in with one hand, closing the gap between us until his face hovered above mine, yet he maintained a considerable distance between our midsections.

"Stop fighting me, Kacchan. We're friends, remember?" he whispered into my ear. I gasped, feeling his hot tongue lick against my lobe.

"Izuku~"

"Hm," he chuckled. "I do think I rather enjoy hearing you say my name."

I said it again without a second thought. "Izuku, I didn't even know what I was sorry for until…" My voice trailed off, unable to finish confessing something I still wasn't ready to admit.

Suddenly, the strong grip of nimble fingers wrapping around my hard length brought me new thoughts my hips bucked involuntarily at the fight as his hand took hold of my shaft, lubricated by my pre-release, and gave it a tight squeeze and firm tug.

" Argh– Shit! Deku!" I hissed at the sudden strain, melting into the blissfully smooth movements of Deku jerking me off, his thumb back to stroking my head's slit. A hot rush of ecstasy flooded my entire body.

"Until what?" he innocently asked as if he wasn't doing sinful things to my body.

I looked down at the hand moving up and down my center, tenting my shorts, slowly picking up its pace and causing pre-cum to leak out of me even more with each demanding stroke, and never have I wanted to bare my ass so badly. I shimmied my shorts below the mound of my ass, pulling them just to my knees, and shifted up my bed, pulling off my shirt like it was on fire. It was. I was.

But I needed to see him first.

I focused my gaze on the perpetrator of my guilty pleasure. Deku's eyes are dark with desire, his cheeks are red, and his lips are a slick pink from him licking them as he worked me. I wanted to lick them. I needed to kiss them like the desert needs the rain.

"C'mere," I growled, pulling Deku's face down to meet mine with a decisive yank to his neck. He yelped from the force—he did use to complain that I was too rough—but eagerly met my demand, our shallow breaths hovering over each other's parted lips, waiting for who'd be brave enough to lean in first. His pupils were dilated with intoxication as if pleasing me pleased him, and I could see the reflection of my homunculus in them. I glanced down. Though his shorts were black, I could still see a large wet spot forming.

"Kiss me," I said through a guttural moan, losing myself in his evergreen eyes.

He did. God, he did.

He straddled my lap, and his lips, supple and spit-slick against mine, softened as he pressed our lips together. I saw stars. When his tongue licked and prodded my bottom lip for entry, and I parted them in submission, he took my mouth into his like he was starving, deepening our kiss while never letting go of my twitching cock, never missing a steady stroke up and around and down my shaft. My mind wanted to betray me with questions on how he got so good at this, but the dizzying mixtures of physical ecstasy made the fire roaring in my abdomen intensify as he pressed his chest against mine, and the blood rushing through my ears deafened the intrusive thoughts. I felt like I was burning up as I reached my climax, the satin sheets beneath my body melting into water when Deku rocked and rolled his hips against mine.

Suddenly, I'm floating.

What did I do to deserve this much bliss?

"Kacchan," he mewled as white-hot ribbons released like a shooting stream from my slit onto my stomach and chest. I groaned from the depths of my soul so loud, my head knocking hard against my headboard so hard that I fleetingly felt bad for Kirishima on the other side of the wall.

Two jewel-toned doe eyes darted around my face. What could they be searching for? A lie? The truth? I heard him say something, but my mind, too empty to think as I felt the slickness of my cum slipping down my crack, threatened to break apart.

He sat back on his haunches and wrapped his arms around my thighs, pulling me down on my back and sliding my shorts completely off.

"There," he said, pleased, looking over my body with a satisfied grin at the current state I was in—vulnerable and under his every desire and whim. He hummed appreciatively, "I like you this way."

He stuck his middle finger into my mouth while following my cum trail down my perineum with his other middle finger. "Suck," and how sexy he sounded against the blood rushing through my ears and heart made it hard to focus on doing as he commanded. I licked his salty, calloused finger and began to suck it like I was trying to get to the center of a tootsie pop down to his second knuckle.

Shivering, His jaw slacked, and he babbled incoherent words out as he hovered his finger over my fluttering entrance. I watched him with pride as his eyes rolled to the back of his head at my work.

Then I felt it.

Small, barely-there circles over the clenching and unclenching muscles of my hole. I shuddered under the soul-tingling sensation.

This moment was a wet dream just two nights ago.

Deku had regained his senses, snatching his finger out of my mouth and placing it right atop my pleading rim. I scooted further down to make it easier for him.

He smirked and took his finger away. "Always the impatient friend."

My dick twitched on my lower stomach, hearing him call me friend, and I whined for more, begging for some kind of touch. "Izuku!" I cried. I actually fucking cried! "Touch me!"

He leaned down, smirking, his slick tongue outstretched and licking his lips before he glided his tongue along my trail of tears from my chin to my lower eyelid. My skin quivered under his hot touch.

He nuzzled my cheek with his nose. " Mm ," he moaned into my mouth, " You taste like burnt caramel ." How was I supposed to deny him another taste once our lips pressed together once more? Our kisses became intense then, sloppy and wet, deep and desperate as if every smack and pucker held its own secrets to pass along.

Deku broke away from our lip lock. I pulled him by the back of his head to come back to me so I could drink him in once more, but he stopped me with an open palm to my chest, studying me, and slowly moved his hand between our sticky middle until my dick was back under his hold. His other hand reached behind him. His middle finger pressed firmly against my hole as he ground on top of me, slow and steady. My lungs seized from the double sensations. He was too good at this. My eyes flitted to my Jolly Roger, and I choked out a laugh, shutting my eyes just as quickly. He was a siren and I, a pirate lost at sea. Pre-cum jizzed out of me, saliva running down my open mouth.

He pressed our foreheads together, cradling my tear-stained cheek in one hand, still riding me, stillstaring into me. A thick middle finger deeper, curling it into the softest place on my body, biting his bottom lip then mine. I wriggled as the discomfort and pain gave way to delirious pleasure.

I...didn't last very long.

The shockwaves that pulsed through my body when he was two knuckles deep and had finally found my prostate led to the most mind-blowing orgasm of my life. Long white ropes of cum shot into the air like a fountain.

"Izu~!" I groaned, scratching at his chest for purchase. My hips bucked and my knees buckled, my fingers gripped my slippery sheets white-knuckle bare while my toes curled from delicious pain as he slowly pistoned his finger in my hole.

"Until what, Kacchan?" he teased me, stopping and starting his movements with a second finger gaining access as I rode out my orgasm, sounding drunk with lustful power while I was coming undone by his lewd actions.

I lifted my hips to meet his fingers and fuck myself if I had to, but he pulled out from there too.

My eyes flew open with a petulant scowl watching him sit up. "Huh?!" I choked out impatiently, clueless about what the hell he was talking about, upset that he'd stopped and left my hole cold and burning for his touch, my lower half squirming and awaiting his fingers to work magic in my yearning hole.

But it felt wrong.

I should've been the one making him feel good.

I wanted all of him. If I were brave enough to muster the courage, I would tell him that when I said I got impaled because I didn't think before I moved, it was also when I realized that I loved him unto death. That, at that moment, I knew I would die for him without hesitation. That I'd sacrifice my life time and time again so that he could live instead. But the thought of facing the emotional turmoil of being rejected by Deku frightened me. I never imagined my heart could endure being torn from my chest while battling by his side to save the world. The mere idea felt more stifling than being engulfed by slime.

So, I leaned into the physical thrill of having him on top of me.

"Undress me," he pleaded. I cut my eyes at him, conflicted by how much his telling me what to do turned me on. His soft voice had an edge of authority that made me weak in the knees. So, I did as I was told. My fingers were still tingled with my orgasm's aftershock, but I was not about to be the only one left feeling special.

"And finish your sentence, Kacch-"

My name caught in his throat as I pulled him down to me by the collar and kissed him like my life depended on it. My fingers scrambled to pull his shirt over his head, only breaking our kiss to do so. Fear gripped me as my eyes darted over to this beautiful man looking so lustsick for me. I could lose him again. My mind flashed to All For One, Shigaraki…the resident a floor above.

"Roll off," I husked out, sliding off my rings, but he took too long for my liking. I tensed up and gripped him by the waist, flipping us over and pinning him under my weight. The cool air cutting on prickled my back. I slipped down his shorts first; the faint wet spot in his black shorts was completely soaked in his grey boxers. I should've been slower and took my time, but the way my brain short-circuited at the evidence of how good I was making him feel and my hands ripped at his boxers with zero inhibitions. I took the firm and supple mounds of his ass, now exposed on my bed, into my grip and squeezed while kissing and sucking the hollow of his neck. Deku hissed at my touch like water snuffing out a campfire, and I was confident that I'd create delectable red imprints from my nails and lips that would turn a deliciously bruised purple in the morning. That's fine; I'd mark him again and again and…

"You're fucking ridiculous, Deku," I panted between sloppy kisses, completely ignoring his second request. His head rolled against my pillow, and he stretched his neck further to the side to revel in more of my lovesick bites. Sinking my teeth into his taut, damp flesh, indulging in the rumbling, shaking his chest with each salivated lick and sinful bite, he tasted delicious, so good, I became greedy.

I wanted more.

I took his lips into mine once again. " No, tell me," he gasped, licking the roof of my mouth as I rubbed my now-fully erect third leg against his thigh. His flesh was so smooth and soft against the ridges of my dick that my breathing faltered. I searched my mindfucked brain to recall what he was referring to. How he managed to remember while he ground his hips against my dick and balls was unfathomable to me. How was he able to keep a stream of thought when the guttural sounds that fell from my lips almost made me forget who I was?

The frustration of him always being a step ahead, even in the throes of pleasure, drove me to remember what he was asking for. Sniffing his fruity scent mixed with sweat, I muttered, "Don't worry 'bout it," planting more kisses up his neck and jawline until I was back nibbling on his bottom lip. I needed my mouth full to speak my truth.

"Just- just don't flatter me if you don't mean it."

Tracing his torso with my fingertips, I slid my head down his chest, continuing my kissing trail down his abs and marveling at how slim his sleeper build had remained. Deku was not as light as he looked. Even laying under me I could feel the weight of his body mass and One For All dipping and sagging my mattress. I stopped at his erect nipples and rolled the fleshy nubs around my tongue, gently tugging at the red dots. He tasted so sweet to me.

" Ahh- Kacchan…ughhh!"

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as tight muscles compacted into dense cuts wrapped around my neck and waist in a death grip. Just the sight and feel of him depending on me to hold him up made me lose my mind. I rutted harder against his warm inner thighs, the friction sending me over the edge. The unstable bedframe creaked beneath our weight, threatening to break from our competing thrusts, and I willed it to hold us up until we were done.

"I- I don't think I can—!" Deku whimpered, wailed, then went limp beneath my lips and my hips, releasing himself between our chests, panting like he was seconds away from losing his breath, hands scratching my back apart with a punishing pain that I all but relished to endure. But he remained determined to ride out his orgasm with his eyes locked on me still.

"See, you don't know what you do to me when you look at me like that!" I groaned, rutting and pumping harder, bracing myself for a third time. I closed my eyes to let the rush wash over me again, but it was too intense to maintain consciousness that way, so I focused on his red lips and wet eyes. I adored the frantic expression on his face. His half-lidded eyes looked like he needed three days of sleep, but his expression remained relaxed and blissfully fucked by his...

" Kacchan? " he called my name like a whispered wish. "Why wouldn't I mean it?" he genuinely asked, voice hoarse, as I lifted his legs to his knees and over my elbows. I shrugged, too overwhelmed by the hot, molten pool swirling in my belly to give a real answer, too focused on the task at hand. Sweat dripped down my forehead onto his broad chest, covered in both our seeds. I surveyed the rest of his body, already seeing the bruises ripening, and I really wanted to stretch him, to penetrate that tight hole winking at me almost tauntingly, but I knew the bedframe wouldn't withstand such double power; I wasn't ready to explain to Aizawa in the morning why I needed a new bed.

One day, we won't have to worry about that, I consoled myself.

When I didn't respond, Deku scrunched his face, and he actually looked annoyed. "Why are you being weird about this?" his voice cracked through pouty, swollen lips.

"I'm not," I puffed as I took hold of his growing cock in my hands and admired it. "I just wanna make sure it's real—goddamn, Deku, your dick is so fucking thick andpretty," I said sultrily and planted soft kisses on his twitching tip, licking the popping vein and raising along his girthy length. "Let me help you feel good, okay, nerd?"

I loved the soft, garbled moans that spewed out his mouth, his tongue slacking out its corner. Again, the rebellious part of me that always got me into trouble was tempted to fill that hot hole with my rock-hard dick and his throat tighten around my throbbing penis, to feel his throat's velvety folds swallow my cum until it dripped out his asshole.

But right now wasn't about me. I wanted him to fuck my mouth raw.

I pulled back his foreskin. With a thick tongue wrapping around his tip, I took his dick into my mouth and did to him what I wanted. I lapped up the pre-cum trickling down my tongue and mixing with my spit, bobbing my head over his red-hot head. Slowly, I descended my mouth onto his cock until all of him was inside me. I hummed in excitement as he garbled out pleasurable curses, sucking as I went lower, hollowing my cheeks and relaxing my gag reflex as I swallowed inch after inch of my second favorite part of Deku.

Stay with me, my performance said. Choose me.

He's been trying to say something for the past… well, I don't know how long I was deep-throating Deku's dick, though the trail of spit running down my chin and pooling on my comforter said it was a while. He thrust his hips up hard, and I fought back my gag reflex, loosening my jaw to let him fuck me more as tears streamed down my face. I fucking loved his growing feel in my mouth, how my throat muscles clenched around his cock, and how he jerked and jolted from the tightening of my walls. Fondling his balls with my fingers, allowing my saliva to act as lube wetting his asshole, I stared in awe as my index finger began to explore the inhale and exhale of his rim, preparing to slowly enter him and stretch his tight hole out enough to finger-fuck the shit out of him.

Deku bucked his hips further into my face, and the sheer force of his thrust made his voice reach my ears.

"I told you this in my letter…" he rasped for all the air in the room when my index finger finally penetrated him. "Remember?"

I stayed silent as the memory of picking up his first letter flooded my mind, paying more attention to the slow thrusting of my finger in his heat. Of course, I remembered the letter from a month ago, but I didn't want to talk about that. Not now when my finger was turning open his body like a key. I slowly added a second finger—my middle—and it was so fucking hot how willingly he took my intrusion. Slowly scissoring the two fingers in and out and around his wet, warm, and welcoming hole, I sucked harder on his tip as I moved deeper into his walls. I exhaled from my nose, swallowing so hard I felt his head tremor on my uvula when my fingers pressed against his prostate. A warm, bittersweet stream flowed down my throat.

"Mmh- Ahhh! Kacchan!"

"-ou th'aste s' good, Deku," I said with my mouth full. I closed my eyes to savor the sensation of him swirling in my mouth, my teeth refusing to lay themselves bare. He was putty under my double penetration.

Sliding a third finger in search of his sweet spot, I bobbed my head up and down his tip, then descended my sore throat on his shaft until I bottomed out with Deku inside of me and my fingers probing inside of him…

Found it.

He trembled.
He choked.
He writhed.
He moaned.

He pleaded for me to stop andbegged me for more.

He anointed my mouth with his love.

He called my name in a trance, like a sacred mantra or prayer.

He became undone, freeing himself, spiriting himself away...

To me.

I popped his dick out of my mouth and beamed at the mess we'd made. He was soaking wet. My cleanliness OCD would have to take a backseat because I wanted to revel in our filth for as long as I possibly could. For as long as he would allow.

"Mmm…you're doing so good, Nerd," I groaned, my dick reviving itself from the lewd scene of a naked Deku dissolving into nothing because of me.

I took my fingers out and replaced them with my tongue, licking up and down his rim at a lazily sensual pace. The sudden change caused his entire body to seize until he mewled into mush. His knees buckled and fell to his side, and his thighs trembled, and when I looked at him from under my eyelashes and saw his cheeks tear-streaked, clutching my sheets for dear life, I knew he was close. So I picked up the pace because, for once, the tears I brought to Deku's eyes were for pleasure.

Lapping his balls into my mouth, the first sentence of Deku's goodbye letter comes to mind— "I'm pretty sure your first inclination when you noticed this letter slide under your door was to immediately burn it." — and the guilt racks my brain until I'm sucking and fucking him with my mouth and tongue harder, rougher than necessary.

Yes, Izuku. I read your letter, but couldn't finish reading it.

"More!" he ground through his teeth, his stamina impressing the fuck out of me.

I tore it to shreds and cried myself to sleep that night.

"Cum for me, baby. All in my mouth, okay?"

I was scared I'd never see you again.

Deku's eyes widen in bewilderment at the request—or the pet name. His gaze was fixed on me, leaving me unsure of his thoughts at that moment, but, god, I wished I knew.

I don't want to lose you again.

He rested his weight on his elbows for a better view to watch my tongue fuck his ass like it was a study session. He ground and thrust his hips deeper. I moaned from thirst, wanting to swallow every last wet drop. He moaned from hunger, devouring my tongue in his stretched hole. As he whined for me, drooling from the intensity, he reached down to caress my face, and my heart burst from his gentleness.

Please don't leave me alone again, Izuku.

The thought of Deku all alone in the perilous jungle that our city had turned into, too frightened to seek my help, devastated me. He still didn't trust me, and while I couldn't blame him, it hurt too much to think at all. I didn't want to think about it so I wouldn't see the constant reminder that I wasn't out there with him, fighting to win and saving everyone with a smile, though it consumed my every waking thought.

I was scared to know how you truly felt when you still left me to fight your demons alone.

I took his thick dick in my mouth, enjoying the exhilarating feel of the alternating textures of Deku's puffy and rigid skin. I scratched his thigh and hip bone for grip, rolling my wrist around his length and letting him see I trusted him enough to milk himself dry in my mouth.

He gazed at me with a kind of affection that made me betray my doubts as pre-cum dripped between my legs.

I don't want to know life, do life, without you, Izuku.

Tears tumbled out the corners of my eyes from the sheer fullness of Deku filling my throat and belly. I was exhausted, but if it were up to me, I'd let him use me like this every night if it made him feel less alone and sleep better. His head lulled from side to side on my drenched pillow.

Feeling his cock soften, twitch, then harden against my tongue as he rode his sensual wave felt so fucking raw and alluring that I couldn't resist penetrating him again, curling three long fingers, stretching him wider, and pressing his prostate like I was mashing a nuclear reactor. My fingers instantly felt the orgasmic quaking before the waves came shooting and cascading out of both his holes. He took hold of my head, pushing it down while gripping my hair tightly enough to make me briefly worry about getting bald spots. I mean, it hurt, but pain is pleasurable when you've lived through hell.

He levitated.

"AHHHH FUCK! KACCHAN!"

His cry was so loud, so throaty, my cock twitched back to life; I thought he had nothing left. With a loud pop, I released his ejaculating member from my aching throat, and I came dry but satisfied.

"I love you!"

Time slowed to a standstill.

My brain spun inside my skull
My eyes blazed up at him.
My throat completely dried.
My stomach flipped and tied into a hundred knots.
My heart leaped out of my chest.

What did he just say?!

I was rendered speechless.

Then it hit me like a freight train as I watched him succumb to his orgasm: I would do anything for Izuku. To see the beautiful face smiling at me through those dark, hooded, exhausted eyes, to know that he saw me. I'd risk my life for the boy whose hands had knotted in my hair, gripping like he never wanted to let go.

But I still couldn't bring myself to tell Deku what I'd tried so hard, for so long, to bury deep inside, even as I buried my face and nuzzled my nose in that cozy crook in his neck.

"Shut up, nerd. Someone's going to hear us," I raspily admonished him, though an accomplished grin played across my face.

Yet, as the crashing waves of ecstasy and electricity subsided within us and my euphoric haze started to lift, all the fighting, arguing, shouting, and other flurries of overwhelming emotions from earlier that gray, rainy evening flooded back and washed over the grave of our shared past.

My skeletons began to float to the surface.

"I - don't - remember," I breathily admitted, unthinking, as I rose back to his mouth to pepper him with soft kisses, my dick leaking across his chest and mixing with his cum. It's sticky. It's slippery. Messy—

This bond we share.

"I didn't read it," I confessed, trying my best to lose myself in my apologetic kisses; the pleasure pool in my gut was now replaced by guilt.

All of a sudden, he shoved me away and sat upright in my bed, his eyes filled with betrayal as he scrutinized me. I instantly felt us drifting apart once more, longing for the comforting harmony we'd just shared and hoping he would never leave me in the cold again, but knowing—

I sat back on my knees and bit my bottom lip, clicking my teeth bitterly, suddenly regretting everything before this but refusing to hide from him. "Tch...I ripped it up."

His eyes grew wide, tears welling.
Then they went blank.
Distant.
As if he were gazing through me.

"You… what? "

I flinched at the shocked breaking of his hoarse voice. The last line I read came to mind:

"Thank you for everything, Kacchan. I wouldn't have made it this far without you ."

"I ripped up your letter." I lowered my head in shame, feeling defeated and exposed. "And burnt it."

The blown-out pupils of pain in Deku's eyes, not registering even the slightest amount of pleasure, made my blood run cold.

Dammit!

Shame riddled me from my admission—weird because I thought I'd left that all behind in the rain. But the guilt that threatened to wash over me when I looked into those pooling eyes full of… I don't know.

Astonishment? Disillusionment? Betrayal?

"What?" I grunted, avoiding direct eye contact while attempting to maintain an air of indifference. However, the sorrowful expression on Deku's face was torture! His intense stare felt akin to death by a thousand bee stings. It was as if I had become Prometheus, imprisoned and tortured in chains, my heart being the organ relentlessly targeted rather than my liver, constantly assaulted and forever devoured by the eagle.

If this was the punishment I originally desired, I was a fool to welcome it with open arms.

Then, he smashed my heart in two. He collapsed in tears. His shoulders trembled beneath the burden of all he bore for the world, for Hero Society, for UA…

Because of you, the devil whispered the truth to me.

It felt like witnessing his soul fracture and his spirit come undone. I wept in silence, too. I had shattered him repeatedly. I had caused him to feel worthless. I had made him this way—my rival instead of my lover. My enemy instead of my friend.

Again and again and again. How did I end up hurting him again?

I'm awash in shame.

I can still see it when I close my eyes—his tears on my pillow. At night, I often wake in fear, haunted by the thought that I broke him that evening. I float in a sea of profound regret, brooding over why I let my anger ruin every good and beautiful facet of my life.

Oh, how I wished they had been angry tears instead.

( ◣∀◢)ψ

Out of the night that covers me,

Black as the pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.

There was always a reason why I couldn't be calmer. I'll save the excuses and just admit to being scared of his softness. Their soft, loving partnership. It didn't matter which one led with love; they both were the same: perfect together.

Following the Final War, I witnessed their emotional bond deepen in ways that seemed unattainable to me.

I could lay down my life without a single thought. I could war against the greatest hero and worst villain there ever was without batting an eyelash. I argue down any adult, child, hero, or villain and win if I really want to.

But I couldn't will softness out of my bony heart.

But that's what he needed. After all he had suffered and been defeated, he deserved it.

Yet now, just as that bitterly fateful moment when I overheard, "I'm in love with you"—a declaration not intended for me, one I'm starting to accept will never be directed towards me—I desperately struggle to maintain my sanity.

This time, though, I refuse to abandon him. It is an easy sacrifice; I've laid down my life twice before.

They'll have to drag me to hell while I leave behind bloody claw marks in my wake, thrashing and yelling at anyone who tries to hold me back from him before I dare let Deku go.

All I see is red streaks.
White clouds.
Orange flames.
The biting cold licks at my ribcage, locking me in.
Icy winds lap up my cold sweat before it evaporates into thin air.

i am here, floating.

On water?
No. Air.
Where is the ground? What is reality?
Am i dead?

A rushing breeze blows through my hair, prickling my scalp. I'm suspended between the fissures of life and death.

But how? And if I fall, who will catch me? What will I meet at the bottom of my watery grave?

Blurs of green flash past midnight blue. Flurries of white crystals dot the black abyss. Robed in white moonlight, my savior calls out my name.

"Kacchan! Thank God, you're awake!"

I shut my eyes in disbelief.

This must be the Afterlife.

( ◣∀◢)ψ

a/n: i...didn't expect this chapter to be so long...though i worked really hard, and for quite a long time, on this chapter, I'm still doubtful that I'm satisfied with the final product, but I'll leave it to you all to decide. might do a rewrite in the future if I'm deeply dissatisfied. but anyway, while writing bakugo, i focus on how sensitive katsuki is to me; a ball of tangled soft emotions that's hardened around like a shell of protection, not the other way around that people like to think (a stony core wrapped in maladaptive emotions and behaviors). which is why i made some stylistic choices in this chapter to capture a balanced perception of both and i love using Kirishima and kaminari as emotional mirrors to reflect off of him. it can sometimes be a fraught writing process because i have him doing many OOC things in the coming chapters that i hope you can trust me with.

i also tried a few new stylistic elements that i hope conveyed the emotions attached to them a bit more clearly...authentic to my evolving writing style. while writing this chapter, i've been grinding my teeth in regret at making this story first-person pov, but we're here 16 chapters deep and i don't want to dizzy you all with such a drastic perspective change in this story when we still have quite a ways to go (i hope that last tidbit of spoiler excites you!)

also, the poem at the end is from INVICTUS by William Ernest Henley