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Izuku walked Katsuki to his door like he always did.
The street was quiet in that late-night way, like the air was holding its breath. Katsuki dug his keys out of his pocket, already half turned away, doing the thing where he pretended like this was just routine. Izuku lingered a step behind him, hands shoved into his jacket sleeves, feet rooted like he hadn’t quite accepted that this was the end of the night.
The door clicked open, but Katsuki paused.
“You know,” he said, not looking at him, “you don’t gotta walk me home every time.”
Izuku’s heart jumped full force into his throat.
“Is that what you want?”
Katsuki scoffed, finally turning around. His mouth twisted like he was annoyed at the question. “Don’t make it weird.”
“I’m not,” Izuku said, too fast. He caught himself and steadied his voice. “I was just asking.”
Katsuki leaned back against the doorframe, folding his arms across his chest. “People might get ideas.”
Izuku stared at him. He noticed the way the porch light caught in his hair, at the way Katsuki wouldn’t quite meet his eyes, and the soft blush across his cheeks.
Oh. Is that what this has been? The thought hit him so hard it almost made him dizzy.
“Maybe I want them to,” Izuku blurts out.
Katsuki froze, staring straight at Izuku, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and hope. He was clearly trying to read him, waiting for the moment Izuku laughed or took it back.
“You messing with me?”
Izuku shook his head. Deliberately. “No.”
The silence stretched. Izuku could hear someone laughing down the block, a car passing somewhere too far away to matter. His heart kicked hard in his chest under the Katsuki’s stare, beating loud enough he was sure Katsuki could feel it too.
Katsuki inhaled sharply. He stepped forward and suddenly kissed Izuku.
It was quick. So much so that Izuku barely has time to register it before it is over. It was the kind of kiss that was meant to close a chapter, not start one. Like shutting a door quietly so no one has to hear it slam.
Izuku doesn’t move. Not because he doesn’t want to kiss him back. His body wants it instantly, instinctively. But his mind just doesn’t catch up fast enough. This is Kacchan. Kacchan doesn’t do anything he doesn’t mean to.
Katsuki pulls away almost immediately, like he was afraid of lingering too long.
“Yeah,” he mutters, eyes looking anywhere but Izuku’s face. “Thought so.”
Izuku blinks, still frozen. “Wait. What?”
“Forget it.” Katsuki turns toward the door, already reaching for the handle like he needs something solid under his fingers. “I read it wrong. My bad.”
He didn’t mean for the words to come out rough. It’s not like Izuku ever owed him anything, not the walks home, or the looks that lingered too long, or whatever stupid hope he let himself build. Katsuki could finally stop wondering if Izuku could ever like him back.
Izuku had learned the hard way that Katsuki doesn’t give softness without it meaning something final. The second he recognizes it, he can taste the finality of the kiss, and his heart jerks painfully in his chest.
It was a quiet goodbye folded into the press of Katsuki’s mouth. A thank you for walking me home. Thank you for staying when I made it difficult. Thank you for all the care you gave me without asking for anything in return. Thank you and goodbye.
Izuku swallows hard. He’s standing in the doorway of everything he has wanted for years just to accept this as a parting gift, and he refuses to believe this is all he is allowed.
“Kacchan.” He reaches out without thinking and grabs Katsuki’s wrist.
Katsuki jerks his hand away immediately, the door rattling under his grip. “I said forget it.”
Izuku’s mouth goes dry; everything he has ever wanted to say to Katsuki rises up at once, trying to fight their way out, but his old friend, doubt, presses against his throat.
But thinking about leaving—about walking away, pretending this was nothing more than a misunderstanding, and going back to a life where he has to carry the weight of the regret of every what-if—gives him the confidence to step forward.
In two strides, Izuku crosses the space between them, and finally kisses Katsuki back.
There is nothing tentative about it this time. Izuku presses Katsuki back, the door thudding shutting behind them with a sound that echoed throughout the empty apartment.
Katsuki gasps into his mouth. His hands come up reflexively, fingers curling into Izuku’s arms like he needs proof that this is real.
They break apart only because they have to breathe. Katsuki’s forehead knocks lightly against Izuku’s, a sharp little reminder that they are both still here.
“You better not regret this,” Katsuki says.
Izuku does not look away. His eyes drop to Katsuki’s mouth, swollen and red now. The sight made something warm and prideful bloom in his chest. He did that.
“I won’t,” Izuku swears, and there is no hesitation in it. He has never been more sure of anything in his life.
Izuku’s mouth was back on his before Katsuki could respond. It was all hot and desperate, just tongue and teeth clashing with the wet slide of want finally giving way.
Katsuki tried to get them to move to the bedroom, steering them there with Izuku clinging to him like he couldn’t get close enough. They stumbled through the halls like a clumsy four-legged creature. When they finally got through the door of his room, Katsuki’s back hit the wall with a dull thud that shuddered through them both.
“Fuck,” Katsuki gasped into his mouth, pulling Izuku in by the belt. His fingers scrabbled at the back of Izuku’s hero suit, finding the hidden clasps. “Get this shit off.”
Izuku didn’t need to be told twice. He tore at his own gear, the heavy fabric parting with ripping sounds. They were still tangled up, lips locked, moving in a frantic, graceless dance of colliding hips and muttered curses between kisses. The vest fell to the floor, a boot hit the wall, and the belt clasp clattered somewhere else with a dull thud. Katsuki scrambled as well, hands grabbing and tugging at whatever he could reach.
When Izuku was down to his boxers, Katsuki pushed him onto the bed. Izuku landed half-on, propping himself up on his elbows to watch him. Katsuki crawled over, knees braced on either side of Izuku’s hips. In the near-dark of the room, Izuku could see Katsuki’s pupils blown wide, black wells swallowing the fierce red of his irises, the mess of blonde spikes catching the faint light.
“You’re so beautiful.”
Katsuki made a sound, like a choked, disbelieving scoff, before he crushed their mouths together again. He’s embarrassed, Izuku thought. It was cute.
But most of Katsuki’s clothes were still on. Hiding his beautiful body felt like a cardinal sin, and they couldn’t leave it that way. Izuku needed to fix it.
“Kacchan,” Izuku breathed like a prayer. His hands were everywhere, but mostly tugging at the straps of Katsuki’s suit. “I need to see you. All of you, now.”
“Then fucking take it,” Katsuki goaded.
Izuku didn’t hesitate. His hands worked at the waistband of Katsuki’s pants, tugging past the tight fabric of the hero suit. Katsuki lifted his hips, letting Izuku guide the pants down over his thighs, his hands bracing on Izuku’s shoulders. Inch by inch they came off, crumpling onto the ground with their other discarded clothes, leaving Katsuki in just his black top.
His hands slid under the thin cotton of Katsuki's black top, mapping the hard planes of Katsuki’s stomach. Izuku’s fingers skated over his smooth skin until they caught on an unfamiliar, rough line of raised tissue somewhere across his rib.
Katsuki flinched beneath him. Ah, he’d almost forgotten about that.
Izuku curiously smoothed the palm of his hand up Katsuki’s side. There were even more rough ridges. He ran his fingers along one line, then crossed over another. His hand slowed as he followed what he assumed were scars. But they weren’t random, they almost read like letters.
“Kacchan…” Izuku whispered, unsure of how to say what was on his mind without pushing too far. He didn’t want to assume, but the nagging suspicion burned at him, and he needed to see it through. Carefully, he asked, “Can I… see?”
Katsuki didn’t answer, only lowered himself onto Izuku’s lap. The way Katsuki’s shoulders slumped made it clear he’d been expecting for this to go wrong, but he couldn’t hide his disappointment. Izuku felt a knot of dread tighten in his gut, just what exactly was he going to find?
Izuku sat up and pulled Katsuki with him, his hands finding the hem of the top again. He paused there, fingers curled in the fabric, watching Katsuki’s face like he was waiting for permission that never came.
Katsuki didn’t help this time. His arms hung loose at his sides, stiff and useless, not resisting but not meeting Izuku halfway either. Izuku couldn’t tell what to make of it. It didn’t help that he couldn’t see Katsuki’s expression in the dark either. Though, Katsuki seemed certain Izuku wouldn’t be happy with what he’d find, but the not knowing was eating him alive.
Izuku lifted the top up and over Katsuki’s head, letting it fall soundlessly to the floor.
His eyes tracked down. He saw scars, dozens of them. He knew what battle scars looked like. He carried plenty of them himself, but this was different. There were fine, white lines along his skin. Some were old, neat, fading. Others were erratic, angry, and overlapping each other like he’d run out of space and kept going anyway.
The dark made it almost impossible to read, but a silver of moonlight guided him across Katsuki’s torso, shading the contours of each scar. Squinting, he was able to make out the letters.
I-Z-U-K-U.
His name. Everywhere. Across his ribs and hips, tracing the curve of his navel, at the center of his chest, written over his heart.
His name was carved over and over into Katsuki’s skin. A cold, sick feeling rushed through Izuku, followed immediately by a hot, shameful lance of pure, undiluted arousal.
“What…” Izuku whispered, barely audible. His hand lifted, hovering over the newest carving of his name. They were stark, angry red lines just below Katsuki’s womb; the letters still slightly swollen. “What is this?”
Katsuki’s eyes flicked down, then back up. He shrugged. “What’s it look like?”
“It looks like my name cut into your skin,” Izuku said, his voice rising and then breaking. The arousal was still there, a filthy, traitorous pulse that beat in time with his horror. “Kacchan, what did you do?”
“I marked myself. It’s a reminder.” Katsuki said, matter-of-factly.
“A reminder? For what?”
“So, I don’t forget who I belong to.” He rolled his eyes, scoffing like it was obvious.
Belong to. The words went straight to Izuku’s cock, which was already hard and straining against his pants. Still, the concern he felt was stronger. He pushed himself up, looking down at the library of devotion written in scar tissue.
“I just—I just don’t understand why you would do this—”
“It’s not a big deal. It’s not like I fuckin’ misspelled it.”
“Not a big deal?” Izuku snapped. “You don’t get to hurt yourself for me. You don’t get to—”
“Why do you care?” Katsuki’s eyes flashed, defiant, but beneath it, something delicate wavered. “Stop talking and just fuck me already. That’s all I want.”
Katsuki reached for his face, but Izuku caught his wrist and pulled him close.
“No. You don’t get to brush this off. You’re covered in my name, and you’re acting like it’s nothing.” He shook Katsuki’s wrist in front of him, so he could see what Izuku was seeing. “Look at it!”
“I see it every day!” Katsuki yelled back. He grunted in Izuku’s hold. “I see it in the fucking mirror when I brush my teeth. I feel it when I shower. I know it’s there. So what?”
“So what? Kacchan, you cut yourself. You mutilated your own—”
“It’s not mutilation!” Katsuki cut in, straightening up so they were face-to-face on the bed. “It’s the only thing that felt real after you walked away! After you picked her!”
Izuku flinched, his grip on Katsuki’s wrist loosening. For a moment, the scar seemed to pulse faintly without his fingers putting pressure on it.
Katsuki sighed, his head falling back against the pillow. He closed his eyes like the fight was drained from him.
“That night. After you rejected my agency proposal. You went after Round Face.” His voice dropped, losing its fire, becoming something hollow. “I dropped off the extras. Went to a shitty bar. Some guy bought me a drink. He kissed me.”
Izuku felt the weight of the confession in his nerves. Fuck, he tried to not react when Katsuki admitted he’d kissed someone else.
“It was my first kiss, and it was with someone who wasn’t you,” Katsuki continued, his breath shaky. “I let some fucking nobody stick their tongue in my mouth, and I felt so disgusting, I thought I’d puke. Then we went back to my place. He wanted water. I got him a glass, but I dropped it.” A small, mirthless sound escaped him. “When the glass broke, I cut my hand on a piece. It hurt, but I was relieved.”
He held up his hand and showed Izuku the first scar of many. “The pain told me what I already knew. It cleared my head. I knew I didn’t want him. So, I just… kept doing it.”
Izuku stared at him. The air felt suffocating. He could see it—Katsuki, alone in his apartment, a shard of glass in his hand, cutting Izuku’s name into his own flesh like a fucking sacrament. The image was horrifying, but it was also the most devastatingly sincere thing he’d ever heard.
He leaned in, resting his forehead against Katsuki’s. “Did you think I wanted this?”
“I didn’t think you wanted anything.”
Tears blurred his vision. They fell, hot and shameful, landing on Katsuki’s chest, right over the scarred name.
“Don’t cry over me. I told you so you’d know. That’s all.”
“I didn’t want this,” Izuku choked out, the words pushing past a sob. “I wanted you. All that time. I was just… afraid. But I let you think you were unlovable.”
Izuku kissed him then, but it was nothing like before. It was an apology, for everything he hadn’t done, for not being there—a thin bandage over a wound that would never fully heal. Katsuki made a noise into his mouth before melting into the kiss, his body going pliant against Izuku’s.
He trailed down his jaw, his throat, his collarbone. The anger and the lust and the heartbreak fused into one impossible, driving need. His lips reached the first of the scars.
Katsuki jolted, a sharp gasp tearing from his throat. “Izuku, don’t—”
“Shut up,” Izuku whispered, his voice thick with tears.
Izuku stuck his tongue out and licked, a long, wet stripe. He could taste the faint metallic memory of blood and the sweetness of Katsuki’s sweat. Izuku opened his mouth, his teeth grazing the ridge of the scar, and started sucking gently.
“Fuck,” Katsuki hissed, his hips bucking off the bed and jerking up into Izuku.
Izuku worked his way down, his mouth tracing a path of scars across Katsuki’s abdomen. His hands finally went to Katsuki’s pants, yanking them and his briefs down in one rough pull. The cool air hit Katsuki’s exposed pussy, and he shuddered, throwing an arm over his eyes.
He kissed a jagged line on Katsuki’s hip. “Never again,” he murmured against the skin, his breath scalding. “You hear me? Never. Again.”
“Izuku, please,” Katsuki begged, his hands fisting in Izuku’s hair. “I need… I need you inside me. I can’t wait. Just do it.”
“No.” Izuku sat up. He settled between his thighs. Izuku could see the neat thatch of blond curls, the glistening folds already slick with anticipation. He bent, nuzzling the inside of his thigh, inhaling. “You waited years. You can wait a few more minutes.”
“Izuku, ngh—” Katsuki moaned, his voice strained.
“I’ve got you,” Izuku whispered back. And he lowered his mouth.
The first touch of his tongue was a flat, broad stroke from perineum to clit. Katsuki cried out, his back arching off the bed. Izuku did it again, unhurried, savoring the taste that was uniquely Katsuki. He zeroed in on his clit, flicking at the hard little nub under its hood, and licking at it in rapid circles.
“Fuck—” Katsuki’s hands fisted in the sheets. His legs fell open wider, a silent, shameless invitation.
Izuku took it. He pushed two fingers into his own mouth, wetting them thoroughly, then brought them down to Katsuki’s entrance. He rubbed the pads of his fingers against the swollen lips, feeling them give, feeling the hot, silky wetness coat his skin.
He pressed one finger inside, just to the first knuckle. The stretch drew a low, broken groan from Katsuki’s chest. His cunt clenched around him, making a wet squelch as Izuku curled his finger deeper inside.
“Another,” Katsuki demanded, his nails digging into Izuku’s forearm. “Fucking give me another, I want it.”
Izuku added a second, scissoring them gently. His mouth never left Katsuki’s clit, sucking it hard, then licking, then sucking again, building a rhythm.
“More,” Katsuki panted. “Need more, come on, I can take it—”
“I know you can,” Izuku murmured against his skin. He added a third finger, and the stretch was deeper. Katsuki whined, a high, broken sound, his hips pumping down onto Izuku’s fingers.
Izuku crooked his fingers, searching, and found the rough patch inside that made Katsuki jolt as if electrocuted. “There?”
“Y-yes—!” Katsuki sobbed.
Izuku fucked him steady with his fingers. He could feel Katsuki’s pussy fluttering, trying to pull his fingers deeper. His own cock was a hard, aching weight in his pants, leaking through his boxers.
“I’m sorry,” Izuku whispered. “I’m so sorry I didn’t see you. I’m sorry you were alone with this.”
“Shut up,” Katsuki cursed, but it held no malice. “Just… don’t stop. Please, Izuku, I need you inside me, I need to feel you before you change your mind—”
Izuku pulled his fingers out with a soft, wet pop. Katsuki groaned at the emptiness, clenching around at nothing. Izuku knelt up, fumbling with his own pants, shoving them down past his hips. His cock sprang free, thick and veined, the head dark and slick. He stroked himself once, twice, spreading the pre-cum.
He looked down at Katsuki, spread out and glistening, his chest rising and falling rapidly; the scars were pale serpents in the moonlight. Izuku’s heart pained. He leaned over him, bracing a hand by Katsuki’s head, lining himself up. The blunt head of his dick nudged against Katsuki’s soaked entrance.
“Kacchan, look at me,” Izuku urged. Katsuki dragged his arm from his eyes, meeting Izuku’s eyes. “I’m not changing my mind,” he promised, and then pushed the tip of his cock in.
It was a slow, inexorable burn. The head popped past the tight ring of muscle with a soft, wet sound. Katsuki cried out, a raw, ragged hiss. Izuku gritted his teeth, pushing in deeper into the incredible, clamping heat of Katsuki’s body that swallowed his cock inch by torturous inch. It was tight to the point of pain, a silken, vice-like grip that stole the air from Izuku’s lungs.
“Fuck… you’re so… tight,” Izuku grunted, the cliché falling from him as stupidly obvious as it was, but he didn’t care; there was no better way to describe the sensation.
He bottomed out, and their hips met, sliding together so naturally it was like they were always meant to fit. They stayed like that, not moving, just breathing into each other’s space. The press of their bodies and the frantic thrum of their hearts settled over them as they got used to the feeling of each other.
Katsuki wriggled against him, impatient and restless. “M-move, Izuku,” he said, voice clipped. He couldn’t stand waiting any longer.
Izuku knew better than to make Katsuki wait. He would give him everything he wanted and more. Never again would he make him wait. Izuku pulled back almost all the way, until just the tip remained nestled inside, then drove back in with a single, deep, punishing thrust.
Their hips met with a solid, meaty smack that was wet, loud, and downright pornographic. Katsuki cried out, wet and obscene, the sound crawling through Izuku’s ears like the dirtiest, most intoxicating music.
He couldn’t get enough of hearing Katsuki’s pretty moans, and so he set a pace—not the frantic, hurried fucking Katsuki had begged for, but a deep, relentless, worshipful cadence that forced every filthy sound out from him.
“You’re perfect,” Izuku choked out, rolling his hips. Katsuki’s pussy was like velvet, drenched and searing hot, it had him seeing stars. “You’re so fucking perfect, Katsuki. You feel… god…”
Katsuki’s hands clawed up his back, gripping and scraping as he matched each thrust, pressing his hips up to meet him. The bed pitched and rocked beneath them, frame rattling against the wall, and Katsuki moved with him, sloppy and desperate, like they were trying to mold into each other.
Izuku pressed down, chest heavy on Katsuki, bracing himself with firm forearms. His gaze landed on the newest cut. He shouldn’t even think about it, but the cut was so bright, still so tender… it was irresistible. Izuku tilted his hips, nudging himself deeper into Katsuki, and lowered his mouth, tongue teasing over the fresh carving.
“My name… carved into your skin,” Izuku whispered, the wet drag of his mouth making Katsuki twitch under him. “You thought you deserved this,” he added, rocking harder into Katsuki’s heat.
“I deserved worse,” Katsuki whimpered, his legs locking around Izuku’s waist, heels digging into his back, pulling him impossibly closer.
For once, Izuku pulled back from the cut, letting his thrusts falter. His hands stayed tight on Katsuki’s hips as he lifted his head, searching Katsuki’s eyes.
Katsuki caught the furrow of his brow, the slight quiver of his lips, the way his eyes shimmered like he was about to cry. The idiot was clearly upset. “Fuck… Kacchan, don’t say that.”
“Why are you so upset?” Katsuki asked, and the bafflement in his voice was the worst part. He’d expected… what? Gratitude? He glanced down at his scarred torso, as if seeing it through Izuku’s eyes for the first time. “I’m damaged goods now, huh?”
“No,” Izuku said without hesitation. His thumbs stroked over Katsuki’s cheekbones, a tender gesture at odds with the devastation in his eyes. “Never that, but if Kacchan ever cuts himself again, I’ll chain him to this bed and fuck him until he forgets what a blade even feels like.”
A weak, hoarse chuckle vibrated against Izuku’s skin. “Promise?”
“I promise,” Izuku’s thrusts became faster, needing to prove his point physically. He slammed in, hitting that sweet spot, and Katsuki screamed, his cunt clenched down in a series of violent pulses.
“Fuck, just like that, don’t stop—” Katsuki babbled. “I’m gonna—Izuku, I can’t—”
“Let me see you, please,” Izuku begged, tears cutting clean tracks through the sweat on his temples. “Come for me, Kacchan.”
Izuku reached between them, his thumb finding Katsuki’s clit, stroking it in time with his thrusts. He kissed every letter he could reach, a worshipful expedition across a wounded map. The orgasm tore through Katsuki violently, leaving him a writhing, beseeching creature beneath Izuku. His body arched, a desperate wail spilling from his lips as his cunt convulsed around Izuku’s cock, so tight it burned deliciously. Warmth gushed between them, slick and hot, making each slide messier, dirtier, impossibly lewd.
Just the sight of Katsuki’s face as he fell apart was enough to push Izuku over the edge. He buried his face in Katsuki’s neck, letting out a raw cry as he thrust deep, shuddering into him until he came. Thick, hot jets of come filled Katsuki, marking him in the way only Izuku could, and the white-hot rush of pleasure felt endless and utterly consuming.
Slowly, Izuku eased out, a warm trickle of his release following him, leaking onto the sheets. He settled on top of Katsuki, elbows braced, chest heavy against him. For a long moment, all that existed was the sound of their panting breaths mingling in the thick, humid air. Eventually, the world crept back—first, the quiet around them, then the heavy press of their bodies, and the cooling mess between them.
Izuku rolled onto his side, dragging Katsuki with him, one arm locked firmly around his middle as if letting go wasn’t an option. He ignored the sticky sheets, pressing close instead, breathing him in—the dizzying mix of Katsuki’s scent, still all his own, tangled with a faint trace of Izuku himself.
He pressed a soft kiss to Katsuki’s temple, then another to the top of his hair, letting his lips linger. Izuku traced a finger over the curve of his hip, feeling him there, too. Katsuki went still enough that he felt it. He swallowed, mind fumbling for the right words to break the silence without breaking the moment.
“The bar,” Izuku started quietly. “That night. After I left with Ochako.”
Katsuki stiffened. “Yeah.”
Izuku tightened his hold, not letting him pull away. “You thought I chose her.”
“You did,” Katsuki corrected, flatly. Not accusing, just stating a fact the way he saw it.
Izuku shut his eyes. He’s been carrying this the whole time.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, softer. “I was scared. I thought if I said something, I’d ruin what we had. It took us so long to get into a good place. I didn’t think you wanted me back.”
Katsuki huffed a laugh that cracked halfway through. “Funny. I thought the same thing.”
Izuku’s chest ached. He dragged his thumb gently over the scars. Katsuki inhaled sharply but didn’t pull away. Izuku kept circling back to it, no matter how hard he tried not to. He couldn’t grasp how long it must’ve been happening, or how much longer it might have gone on if he’d never seen it.
The thought that Katsuki had probably shown up to see him with fresh cuts hidden under his clothes, probably forcing a smile, pretending to be okay while Izuku talked about someone else, as if it didn’t cost Katsuki anything. And Izuku had never noticed, never even suspected a thing. The thought lodged straight to his chest and settled heavily upon his heart. Fucking god, Katsuki. ‘What have I done to you?’ What about what I’ve done to you?
Katsuki shifted, turning his head just enough to speak clearly. His eyes were alert, observing Izuku for something he clearly didn’t want to see there. “Don’t look at me like that.”
Izuku forced himself to meet Katsuki’s gaze, pushing down the bile in his throat. “Like what?”
“Like you’re pitying me. I don’t need you to feel fucking sorry for me. I knew what I was doing.”
Izuku shook his head. “Kacchan, I’m not pitying you. I just… I hate that I didn’t notice. That I didn’t see how much you were hurting.” He bit his lip, not sure if he was angrier at himself or at everything that let this happen.
Mindlessly, Katsuki lifted a hand and pressed it to his face. His thumb traced along the freckles on Izuku’s cheek.
“You had your own shit going on.” Katsuki’s voice was low and sullen.
“I still do,” Izuku said. He leaned into Katsuki’s touch. “But I still should’ve noticed sooner.”
“How could you have known? It’s not like I ever expected you to see it. Never thought there was a chance… that anything between us could’ve been possible. I didn’t even think I was allowed to have this.”
Izuku shook his head. “Kacchan, just why? Why do this to yourself? Why not… just move on? You didn’t have to—”
“Don’t,” Katsuki cut him off. “Stop. You don’t get it, do you?”
He doesn’t. He can’t make sense of any of it. Izuku’s voice came out in a broken whimper. “I don’t understand. I can’t. I can’t understand why you would hurt yourself like this when you could’ve— could’ve had someone else, someone who—”
“I didn’t care about anyone else!” Katsuki’s words came faster, rougher. His hands pushed at Izuku’s chest. “I wanted it to be you!”
Izuku felt tears sting at the corners of his eyes. He pressed his forehead to Katsuki’s, hands trembling on his arms. “But you didn’t have to. You could’ve had… anyone else, Kacchan. You could’ve been happy. Why choose this?”
“Choose what?” Katsuki snapped back, fingers dragging over the words on his own skin. His body relaxed as soon as he did, like it recognized the feeling. “This?”
He let out a rough breath that almost sounded like a laugh. “Because, Izuku, this—feeling it, feeling you here. It feels right,” His gaze stayed locked on Izuku. “And I didn’t do this shit for you, or so you’d feel bad. I never did. I just… I wanted this. Whatever I had of you, I kept it for me. This was the only thing I had of you that was mine.”
Izuku’s lips trembled, and tears fell freely down his cheeks. “You… you always had me, Kacchan… I was… always yours. Always. Even when you didn’t think it… even when I was too stupid to notice… I was.”
It might have been the truest thing he’d ever said, more honest than most things he’d ever admitted aloud. Katsuki had always been at the center of him, in ways he hadn’t fully understood as a kid, in middle school, even to this present moment.
Now, seeing Katsuki like this—exposed, vulnerable, and finally his—Izuku realized that nothing had ever changed and that nothing ever could. He would follow Katsuki through every wrong turn. No matter what, Izuku would always be chasing him.
And even as he cried, letting himself sob against Katsuki’s chest, Izuku felt a strange sense of relief. Because finally, Katsuki knew how he felt.
Katsuki didn’t say anything at first. He just stared, eyes softening in a way like he could finally see the truth of it. Izuku had always been his. That thought should have made him proud, but it didn’t. It left a bitter taste in his mouth, a reminder of everything he had done to him—the way he had pushed, yelled, hurt, and humiliated. Even after the apologies, even after Izuku had forgiven him, even after he had tried to make up for everything. He didn’t deserve Izuku, not fully, not yet, probably not ever.
Still, when he leaned in and their foreheads pressed together, that thought tangled with something heavier. “…Izuku, you don’t really mean that.”
They both knew how unfair it sounded. Katsuki felt the hypocrisy in his words the second the thought surfaced. For him, there had never been a choice. It had always been Izuku or nothing at all. That part was simple. It was just everything else that wasn’t.
Izuku could have anyone. Hell, he should be with anyone else. Katsuki had watched it happen for years, people drawn to Izuku without even trying. They were kind, patient, and good in ways Katsuki still didn’t trust himself to be. He told himself he was fine with that. He had made peace with wanting from a distance. The scars were proof that he could live with the ache and not ask for more.
Katsuki had learned how to survive with the hunger, how to carry it alone and make it part of himself. But he had never learned how to be wanted in return. Now, with Izuku so close, it felt too much and not enough all at once. He didn’t know how to take it in, how to hold Izuku’s fragile heart without breaking it, and every instinct told him he didn’t deserve it.
Someone better should be here, someone who deserved the giving as much as the taking. Katsuki was afraid of reaching too far, of saying or doing the wrong thing, afraid of shattering the fragile thing he didn’t know he’d been allowed to have.
Izuku caressed Katsuki’s face before leaning in. Their lips met, and Katsuki gasped, pressing into the kiss with frantic urgency, as if trying to satiate years of hunger in a single moment. He took what he could, aware that Izuku could pull away at any second, and that made him desperate. But Izuku held himself steady, slowing the kiss and guiding the pace. He wanted Katsuki to feel it fully, so he knew that Izuku wasn’t going anywhere.
Drawing back just enough, Izuku pressed his forehead against Katsuki’s and whispered, “I love you.”
Then he leaned in again, letting the kiss stretch and linger like sunlight settling over cold skin. Katsuki didn’t have to say it back for Izuku to know. He could feel it in the way Katsuki’s heart thumped against his chest, matching his own wild heartbeat. He could feel it in the way Katsuki was alive, right here, right now, and that—being here and being real was I love you enough.
They broke apart for air, foreheads still brushing, lips damp and warm. Izuku could still taste him in his mouth, the sweetness of Katsuki and the faint saltiness of his own tears.
“Can you… promise me something?” Izuku spoke up.
“Depends,” Katsuki muttered, chest still a little shaky from the kiss.
“Just listen,” Izuku said, voice firmer now. “I don’t need you to promise forever. I just… want you to try with me. That’s all I’m asking. Just try.”
Katsuki’s eyes glanced down, then reluctantly back up to Izuku’s. He wanted to argue. He could have Izuku, right here, right now. But what if it didn’t last? What if one day it wasn’t enough and Izuku left? Then these carvings would be all that tied Katsuki to him. All that proved he had ever belonged.
“I… don’t know how,” he said finally. “I don’t know how to stop… or how to make it… right.”
“You don’t have to figure it out alone,” Izuku assured. “I’ll be here.”
For a heartbeat neither of them spoke. The quiet was viscous with all the things they hadn’t said for years, the ache of wanting and fearing, of hunger and relief.
“If it gets bad…” Katsuki started and then hesitated before continuing. “I’ll come find you.”
“I’ll already be there,” Izuku said immediately.
Katsuki’s lips quirked, a ghost of a smile. “You always have to be dramatic, huh?”
Izuku let out a small laugh. “Maybe, but I mean it. You don’t get to push me away, Kacchan. I’ll always find you, no matter what.”
Outside, the moon passed behind a cloud, plunging the room into near-total darkness. Katsuki leaned forward, pressing a tentative kiss to Izuku’s cheek, then the corner of his mouth, testing the reality of it. This was real.
“I’ll try,” Katsuki said, sealing the promise with a kiss to Izuku’s lips. “I’ll try for us.”