Chapter Text
Dedicated to MTC, my faithful commenter, hope this suffices.
IIIII
"I'll find it, Kacchan."
Katsuki remembered thinking, huh? Followed by his next thought that ended up being worded out loud, "are you stupid, Deku?" silly rhetoric there, "how would someone like you do it?"
At the time, Deku had offered no explanation. But he hadn't quite bowed his head like he usually did when he knew he couldn't do something. It was not like five-year-old Katsuki was well-versed in Deku. Rather, he knew when Deku was going to be an idiot about something and this would count as one of those times.
It had been a preschool field trip at the end of the year, a camping experience in Daisen forests. It was supposed to be educational or whatever since they would also be watching Herschel's comet pass by Earth for the first time. Scientists first discovered the periodic comet in 1789, a comet that visits Earth every twenty-seven years like an old friend stopping by every now and then with no other reason but to leave something behind.
The best spot was obviously to watch it from the observatory. Katsuki had begged to differ. Daisen forests had a little-known treasure of a viewpoint, it was a bit far off but he had once hunted beetles with Deku and they had found it by accident. But when they tried showing their mothers the place they had discovered, they somehow couldn't find it. The rest of that summer had been spent in Deku and him scouring Daisen forests for that one place.
They never found it and soon, the frustration of it made them both forget all about it.
Until the night of the field trip where Katsuki had stayed behind, waiting for Deku only to find him dressed differently than the others. Long boots like that were not required for walking a small, sophisticated distance to the observatory.
"Kacchan, I want to find it—"
"It's dark! How will you even see the trees around? Knowing you, you would start crying on the first twig you trip over," Katsuki bit back, "and why would a useless dummy like Deku find it now?"
Deku hadn't shrivelled up and listened to him. He hadn't because of course he's stupid. No, Deku gripped his hands around his net (and what was that for? Was he going to catch the comet in his net like some dirty snowball? See, this is why Deku is useless, he doesn't think) and pulled it close to him.
"Kacchan can come if he wants," he announced, the words left Katsuki stupefied.
Like a hairpin trigger, Katsuki's fist balled up. The implication had offended him to the next day, Kacchan can come if he wants? Huh. What a joke. How dare Deku look at him like he's beneath him? Anger sprung forward like a falling star and they fell into the mud, rolling and fighting as Deku pulled his shirt, it tore a little. The fight ended when a sharp, wooden crack brought both of them apart. Deku's scoop net stick had been broken in the brawl and Deku began crying.
Katsuki caught up to his breath, "don't do useless things, stupid Deku, and don't come back to me if you do!" he had told him, reasonably thinking that would be the end of it.
It was not.
When all the kids had been gathered in the observatory, Deku had remained back in his tent. The teacher had told them that he wasn't very well and no one thought twice about it. In time, Herschel's comet appeared in the sky, it was visible to the naked eye. The big man in the labcoat had told them that it would be the only night they could see it this well because the position of the Sun had been distant. Something about the sun's rays and the gases of the comet but Katsuki hadn't paid attention.
In the starry skies, Herschel's comet scorched past the brightest stars, forming a hazy second tail. Like a brush stroke in outer space, a halo of brilliant white at its core and icy blue. It was pretty and as Katsuki had thought, they could have seen this place far better if they were at the viewpoint. Katsuki's eyes immediately looked for Deku, coming to a slow and certain realisation.
He had run back to the campsite, and sure enough, Deku's tent was empty.
That idiot, Katsuki balled up his fists.
How could he have left Katsuki and gone just like that? It felt like betrayal and Katsuki didn't let it stay like that for long. Daisen forests were known to be colder and dark at night, and Katsuki ran into shadows between the trees without thinking twice.
He ran until he felt a cough come up because of how hoarse his throat had become. He screamed for Deku and there wasn't a single call back. Stumbling, he came across a rock formation and blinked when he recognised the viewpoint. Katsuki's initial frustration forgot itself into awe and amazement; the viewpoint had been far prettier.
Hershel's comet lay like a secret masterpiece on the sky's canvas and for that night, Katsuki couldn't find Deku.
The teachers eventually came to find him. Somewhere in between informing him that Deku had already been taken back and that his mother was worried sick. Ignoring his old hag's awaiting wrath, Katsuki decided he'd brag to Deku about it, it'd be a way to make him pay for making Katsuki run around the forest. Except when he saw Deku again around the campfire, the boy only looked at him once.
"Goodbye, Kacchan, and, and I'm sorry!" he said, turning away before breaking into a run for Aunty Inko's car.
Again, it wasn't like five-year-old Katsuki was well-versed in Deku but when spoken, those words felt different to him. Like water freezing to ice, something cold had come to stay. And, when Katsuki woke up the next morning, the heaviness of the last night's memory made him feel lost. Lost enough that he ignored the swollen pain on the soles of his feet, the wind still wet against his cheek and the cold was almost negligible.
Katsuki's fingers tightened and unfurled, leaving him to think that it had just been a dream.
It was, right?
If there's one thing about himself Katsuki would like the world to know then, it's his loathing for inconveniences. Especially, inconveniences that could have been easily avoided but were not. As a natural effect, he has to bear the brunt of it.
He had been moving to a different apartment but a recent maintenance problem had delayed his plans for the next six months. The property owner apologised and offered compensation which he had already accepted only for an issue to arise with the hotel that would have been accommodating him for the next six months.
Up until the day he moved, he hears nothing from them. Right when the packers and movers shift his luggage to the truck, he 'suddenly' gets a call from the Front Desk apologising that they can't accommodate him. They had been trying to reach him for the past week (a blatant fucking lie) and when Katsuki got there, it turns out the management had shuffled the staff and some idiot gave away his condo.
Now that they are overbooked, Katsuki learns that he doesn't hate inconvenience as much as he hates sheer incompetence. After having put the fear of God into the hotel management, he had to start looking up for:
A) A place near the clinic.
B) Somewhere quick enough to sign the contract because the Packers and Movers are blowing up his phone.
C) Fits his list of requirements.
On the off-chance he didn't find a place, he'd have to move back into his parent's house. Which, no thank you. His relationship with his parents is better when distance is put between and fortunately, it's something all of them acknowledged. That's not to say they don't love him. It's just different for different folks.
So no, that's crossed off.
One of the management staff approaches him with an alternative. Bold move when he's spitting out wildfires but to each their own. The place the older woman recommended is more of a roommate situation. For someone having alreadt started his 30's with a bold, italicised preference for personal space, Katsuki was about to reject it but it checks the first two boxes of his requirements. With the Packers and Movers at his neck, Katsuki went for it.
The place isn't big but it had a large living room, and a clean-looking kitchen with his room having enough space for a six-month duration. The sun is at its highest when Katsuki signed the contract on the spot, hoping his roommate isn't the pain that's going to come back and bite him in the ass.
"Oh, he's such a sweetheart," the old homeowner re-assures as they enter, "really, Midoriya-san is a kind boy. But God, he doesn't take care of his health at all, doesn't even eat properly," she follows Katsuki and warns, "wait, that's the wrong door, Bakugou-san—"
It's too late, Katsuki has already opened the door and gets an unwarranted peak into his roommate's space. There are action figures littered on one side of the shelf and playing cards on the desktop table and Katsuki considers this: is my roommate a fucking toddler? Maybe it's a college kid living separately from his parents. Katsuki frowns, yeah no, he's not going to entertain any late parties bullshit or drunk shenanigans.
He's been friends with Kaminari for ages now and that's basically covered it.
Going into his new room, he takes a closer look, the maintenance didn't seem off at the first glance. Beige walls and a dull painting of tulips hangs on the wall, he'll remove it after he's settled in. Walking out of the room, he looks around the kitchen. The cabinets have instant ramen in full stock and a lack of proper vessels. At least, the fridge has enough supplies but he'll need to visit the convenience store by the end of the week.
"So how is it?" She asks with a polite smile, "Midoriya-san has been with us for two years now, he usually comes in late in the evening so you might have to wait to meet him."
Katsuki's fingers graze the kitchen tops, there's a bit of dust there. Midoriya sure is a common name these days huh. Katsuki brushes the thought out, the Packers and Movers will be coming up soon enough. For six months, this doesn't seem a bad deal, Katsuki thinks before hurried footsteps sound out in the hallways. Ah, the walls are thin, and—
"I am sorry, Asahi-san, I just got your text that I'm gonna be having a, a," the person stutters to a pause and all Katsuki sees is a barrage of green before recognition hits his front brain, "Kacchan?"
Katsuki blinks and the homeowner looks between them, "oh, this is unexpected. Do you know each other already? Are you both friends?"
"No," Katsuki shapes without skipping a beat, "we just knew each other in high school."
"Oh," the homeowner sounds out, "is that so, Midoriya-san? Well, it's good you know each other. I'm glad to know you both will get along from now on," and with that brazenly confident assumption, she moves out of the apartment and speaks to his roommate regarding some contract stipulation.
Katsuki leans against the kitchen counter, slowly coming to terms that he's going to be here for the next six months. Whatever. It's not like it matters. He has more work to do than thinking about this but there's a certain relief that drums up in his chest. That it's him. How absurd. It's not like Katsuki even knows him, to begin with. They had barely even talked through school. The reminder of which annoys him into shutting himself in the room. Sorting out his clothes and immediate essentials, he lists the rest of his things went into the storeroom he had been given.
By the time, he's done with it which is a little too soon, Katsuki feels a visceral cringe at the thought of going outside. It bothers him more because this inconvenience comes from himself. To spite himself, Katsuki goes out of his way to leave his room and regrets it about a second later. Izuku's door opens the same time his does and it's inevitable that he's avoiding him too.
"Hey there, Kacchan," Izuku Midoriya greets with shaky courage, "how come you're here?"
There's tension pulling his muscles and Katsuki simply replies, "work," movement, he figures, he needs movement to distract himself.
"Oh, yeah, your clinic is nearby right?"
Katsuki opens the refrigerator, "yeah," he says before begrudgingly asking, "what are you doing these days, Deku?" and it would seem that the nickname makes Izuku flinch just as much. Good, Katsuki isn't the only one awkward here then.
"I'm a lecturer in several universities," Izuku replies humbly, "and uh, I'm due for buying groceries on Monday."
About that, it's been on Katsuki's mind, "where do you keep the vessels?" he asks, yet to see a decent pot or pan around.
"Uh, excuse me?"
Katsuki has a bad feeling, "what do you eat for meals without...." he watches Izuku's gaze fluctuate between the cabinets to him and comes to the worst possible conclusion, "you eat instant ramen every day?"
"With vegetables and not that often," Izuku defends immediately because that makes it healthy, "I rarely have meals at home so...yeah."
That sounds about as suspicious as the first statement, "does your mother know about this?" Katsuki asks plainly and watches an explosion of reaction go off on Izuku. Heh, he thinks, he has his answer before Izuku opens his mouth.
"She knows about it a little," he replies sheepishly and the thing that sticks about this whole thing is none of it feels normal. Talking to Deku here, sharing the same space with him had not been a part of the plan.
"A little huh?" Katsuki looks at Izuku, really looks at him. He's taller with his hair being a shabby mess, nearly coming up to Katsuki's height but he's leaner, white sleeves rolled up to show a hint of muscle. His freckles but? Yeah, they're the same and they're not the only things.
Big, green eyes look at him as if mining up some bravery, "Kacchan, there's a small restaurant nearby and I'm, uh well, probably having dinner there too," Izuku glances at him, his lips twitches, "...so I'll just bring a bag of rice back for you."
"Not your problem, I'll just order some," Katsuki says, utter refusal dripping off his voice, "there aren't any utensils here so I'll be using my own. You don't needa give a shit about me, Deku, and I'll do the same."
"Ah....yes," Izuku says, turning away, hands out of sight, "I get it, Kacchan. Sorry for...intruding," and as if to make himself less of a problem, he shuffles his feet to his room. But you see, it is a problem. It's some kind of problem because it pervades the living room where Katsuki watches the crayon line he made, turn into a boundary.
Katsuki orders the bag of rice and meanwhile, washes the vegetable properly. There are tomatoes, store-bought garlic paste, some chives and cilantro that could be revived. The idiot doesn't even have salt and pepper in his kitchen. What is wrong with him? Katsuki groans as he adds eggs, miso and fucking salt and pepper to the grocery list.
He hears Izuku's room door open when he's in the middle of cutting tomatoes. Footsteps stop for a moment and Katsuki waits for him to talk, he doesn't and hurried footsteps sound again. Katsuki's grip tightens on the knife and the tomato is nearly squeezed in his grip.
There's a knock on the door right after Izuku leaves and Katsuki wipes his hands with a kitchen towel. He opens the door with anticipation to find the delivery of a rice bag, his shoulders clench and he takes the bag. Pouring a cup of rice into the rice cooker, he mulls over his own stiffness, trying to shake it off. He's old now, things like these aren't something he can brush away to the corner.
So what if he is bothered by that guy? It's not like he can do anything about it. He's already signed the contract and this is officially his problem. Deku isn't exactly annoying him, not really. All he did was offer him something, or at least tried to. Katsuki wouldn't let himself live down debt from him of all people.
Him of all people? He re-considers cynically as if they ever had anything going on between them. They didn't really speak to each other, to begin with, and honestly, it felt like they avoided doing that in the first place.
Katsuki stretches his hands out, when did that start anyway? Avoiding each other isn't a regular norm for people who were strangers. So then, Katsuki thinks, watching the pot boil. Probably in high school, or earlier, Katsuki debates, narrowing his eyes. Definitely way, way earlier.
It wasn't an important day so clearly, he chooses not to remember it.
His parents had just bought a new uniform, the one he wore when he was five didn't fit anymore. Katsuki needed new boots too but that worry had taken a backseat when his dad pointed to the notice board. The preschool had shuffled classes as they did every year. Having no exception this year, the list had been put out, and Katsuki remained in section A, as usual.
It wasn't instinctive as much as it was out of curiosity. Katsuki had asked his old man to lift him up to see his name, it was put chronologically behind Kiyomi Kaguya at number seven. The class's size hadn't been reduced but some people had been exchanged.
Deku's name wasn't there.
"Katsuki, you said you wanted shoes right?" His mom asked and Katsuki nodded, asking his dad to put him down. His parents discussed details of their day, lunch, shoes, and uniform but Katsuki's mind was a little stuck on the piece of paper. It felt bad, bad like when his mom makes grilled eggplant. Katsuki thought he was relieved in spite of the icy feel to it.
Good for him, now, he didn't have to see the dummy around anymore.
Feeling as if he was being watched, he looked towards the empty side of the corridor. There wasn't anyone around. Katsuki shook his mind off of it and instead, ran up to catch up with his parents. Had he stayed a moment longer, he might have heard the loud reprimand.
"There you are! I've been searching all over the building for you," the woman said, sounding emphatic, "Izuku, don't wander away without telling mom."
Inko Midoriya sighed heavily, "you scared me," she shook her head. When Izuku gave no response, Inko frowned, "Izuku, is everything alright?"
Fiddling with his blue uniform, Izuku looked at his own shoes, a little rusted, a little torn, "Kacchan is not in the same class as me."
"Oh, dear," his mother whispered to herself before suggesting, "would you like to see him this weekend? Mom can call aunty Mitsuki—"
"No!" Izuku exclaimed, a phantom feeling of a bruised cheek remained and instead of touching it, his hand fisted into itself, "Kacchan doesn't want to see me."
Inko pursed her lips nervously, "then," she offered with a hopeful smile, "would you like ice cream instead?"
The trade would never be fair to little Izuku. Ice cream in exchange for Kacchan but Kacchan wouldn't see him again so he grasped his mother's fingers and continued to walk to the opposite exit. They hadn't really played together after that day because Kacchan wouldn't look at him anymore. Of course, Kacchan stayed the coolest kid, he was still the best at dodgeball and had the best All Might Adventure cards from the Platinum deck, and was always first in class. Kacchan didn't mind fighting anyone, as of late that hadn't included Izuku as often as it used to.
It's a good thing, he told himself to sleep that night. Now, mom wouldn't have to get sad every time Izuku showed up with little mud on his clothes. Izuku's hair wouldn't be pulled and his bottle cap wouldn't be broken.
It's good, he told to himself, needing to be reminded. Kacchan wouldn't look at him anymore because he told him not to come back to him. Even though Izuku ended up finding the viewpoint, Kacchan told him not to come back to him.
He had waited there for some time. Kacchan wasn't coming back but Izuku watched the comet in a haze, he wanted to watch it with Kacchan. It didn't help that he said mean things to him but if Izuku showed him this place again...maybe, Izuku thought. So Izuku went back, memorising his route in the dark. By the time he returned, he learnt that Kacchan was missing.
They didn't find him for a long time. Izuku had been scared out of his wits and so when they finally did find him, he was relieved. Kacchan had been hurt a little and Izuku was afraid. Afraid that if he went to apologise now, the first thing Kacchan would say was to leave him alone.
So he did what he knew would keep Kacchan with him. He ran away from it like it wouldn't stop chasing him and the next time he saw Kacchan, the blond only ignored him. The park became a little more lonely but Izuku knew things would look up when preschool began again.
Until it hadn't but that was alright, he'd still get to see Kacchan during recess, during intra-class dodgeball matches, and somewhere in between, somehow, Kacchan would have to look at him. One way or another. It was alright.
Everything was going to be fine.
"I'm not quite sure actually," the student replies, "that's why I stopped by your office. Your seminar was incredibly enlightening though, I don't think I could have gained more insight but since I'm stuck now," he trails off, "I was just hoping for some more clarity on this."
Izuku takes a good glance at the high school graduate. It's funny, he sees himself in the kid. Kind of nostalgic actually. Back then, all Izuku knew was that he wanted to teach and research. He liked the idea of splitting time between them.
"Hmm," Izuku leans back on his chair, "I would recommend not taking economics. Specifically, because it can't really stand alone most of the time. You might have to double major in say, Finance or uh, Marketing. Now, that leads to my second and more important point," Izuku gestures to the student.
"You seem to be looking for a business role. If that's your goal, I'd recommend a major in other fields like Business Analytics or Accounting."
"I'm just," the student shrugs stiffly, "I'm just unsure, isn't economics more specific than a generalised business degree?"
"That's, uh, well, a business degree is broadly focused on application, economics is more theoretical," Izuku weighs in, "you might have to figure out more about what you're looking for."
"I see. At any rate, it might result in a dual degree," the student replies before blinking, "I heard that you took a different route, professor."
"Yeah, I took economics for a bad reason," Izuku reveals with a nervous laugh, "I took it 'cause I didn't know what else to do."
"Oh, that's..."
"Bad? Yes, it was. But I got lucky. Halfway into the second year, I realised I liked data analysis and coding, so I took enough internships, and boot camps and now," Izuku shrugs, motioning to his office, "I'm here."
"Oh, professor, now you're just being very humble," the student grins, "you've conducted workshops and won several hackathons at the level of Ivy Leagues and you're still pretty young, ah to be honest," the student shares with an expectant tone, "I thought you'd stay in the States as a data scientist but you came back."
Izuku's mind goes quiet in spite of the smile on his face.
"I guess I just missed my country," he offers, widening his smile, "it's a different kind of lonely over there."
"Ah, I see, do you have plans to return at any point?"
"None whatsoever, I'm content here," and Izuku supposes his reasoning is odd because the student looks at him in slight confusion. Like something doesn't add up. To be fair, that's something Izuku feels too so that might make the two of them. The student thanks Izuku, closing the door to his office and Izuku's hand absent-mindedly plays with the blue paperweight.
Well, he had been sure that was the truth. He is content in Musutafu, there isn't anything inherently problematic here but it's a little bit less than he expected. He's been here for two years now. Leaving the States was a decision made on a whim, made literally on the off-chance that he'd stop feeling this way. Like everything around him was supposed to be more. Nothing really changed after moving to Japan, he did find regular pleasures in teaching but there's something about his lifestyle that softly stifles him when he isn't looking.
Having ended most of his classes early, Izuku takes his leave from the shared department.
"You lucky bastard," Shigaraki comments from beyond his desk.
"Good day to you too, Shigaraki-san, I'm sure the kids in Multivariate calculus would love to have you," Izuku says, grabbing his messenger bag and sliding it on his shoulder.
His coworker gives him a watered-down death glare, "do you not see how that's a part of the problem?"
Izuku chuckles, waving him by, taking the lift to the parking lot. He unlocks his cycle out, leaving his brain on auto-control. There will be an Economic and Finance combined fest in the near future, figuring out that he'll call Shigaraki about it later, Izuku stops by Nagashi stores. He picks up his favourite fruit juice, he should really learn how to cook. But hey, what's gonna be his unfulfilled new year resolution if he does?
On a serious note, Izuku judges, I really should. Especially if he's expecting one of those random visits from his mother.
"That'll be ¥140," the cashier chimes in, Izuku pays her and continues to drink it before throwing it in a bin on his way out. He removes the DND from his phone, there are several messages on the group chat. Uraraka was off joining the bakery class she had been sitting on and Izuku makes it a point to ask her about cooking classes. Iida had joined the fishing circle for his vacation and Todoroki had just landed in Australia with a 'no spiders here yet', and Izuku smiled at how foreboding it sounded.
Hitting the back button, Izuku frowns. Asahi-san had called him, seeing as he was already close by, Izuku cycles his way into the building. Parking his cycle in its usual spot, he goes to the front desk, asking for her.
"Oh, she's busy right now, a new occupant moved in!" the receptionist tells him, "he looks scary, like a bad egg."
"Uhuh, I might have to look out for him then," Izuku says in good humour, "any idea which apartment number is he in?"
"I think it was #277," the receptionist replies and Izuku nods before his brain picks up on it.
Pinching his brows, Izuku repeats, "wait #277?"
"Yeah, oh, Midoriya-san," the receptionist remarks, "that's your room right?"
Izuku swears under his breath and bids the receptionist a quick goodbye. Shit, he was supposed to buy the whole apartment for himself, It's a great place for a considerable price. It had been something he was putting off because well, no one really liked having roommates if they were looking for a family apartment. This is what he gets for delaying things, no wonder Asahi-san had called him repetitively.
Taking swift strides, Izuku heeds the open door before bursting in with an apology.
His world takes a tilted damage and Izuku's brows furrow automatically, "Kacchan?" That's Kacchan, Kacchan, the Kacchan? That Kacchan? Wait, what...and his brain malfunctions. He hasn't encountered a dumbed-down silence and the only thing that snaps him out of it is Asahi-san's admission.
What snaps him out harder is Katsuki's outright rejection. It doesn't surprise him, it's expected, it's how Kacchan was for a good chunk of their middle school and high school. It's not like he's wrong, they're not friends or something. Or, anything else. Literally anything else. The idea of slipping back into his room tempts him and Izuku feels like he's a kid all over again. His mother had clearly lied, when you become older, you'll know what to do. And this isn't the first instance to prove that wrong but it's definitely a memorable one.
'He's going to be here with you for six months since you know each other, that should be alright, Midoriya-san?' stares back at him on his phone's screen. Six months with him, and as wary Izuku is, he can't help the twinge of excitement, remains of his childhood no doubt. He sits on his bed, impatiently ignoring the pile of papers he's yet to finish correcting. Izuku eyes the doorknob, is this...for real? It feels like he's been plugged into a simulation.
How was it going to work? Katsuki didn't usually look his way in college. Maybe they could change a bit and when Katsuki makes it clear where he stands on that, Izuku guesses it was his mistake. Izuku wouldn't have been stupid enough, he thought they were maybe thawing out. Maybe obviously. Maybe is the operative sentiment. It doesn't really hurt, especially since it's something he's grown into. Even if growing out of it is a different matter altogether. He takes it while clutching his hands in bigger but looser fists behind his back now.
Of course, he doesn't make the same mistake twice in the timeframe of practically an hour. Katsuki doesn't really want anything to do with him and if that's the case, this whole roommate thing is probably a burden. His ribcage tightens in mellow reproach. How foolish of me, Izuku thinks, walking down the main road before turning a sharp right to an inadequately-cobbled street. Passing the Nagashi convenience store, Izuku stops at the small, outdoor restaurant with unlit yellow lanterns hanging above him.
"The usual, Midoriya-san?"
Izuku smiles in greeting, "no actually, I'd like Katsudon for today."
"Of course," the waiter says, he's rather well-known in this place against his will. From crying out on dissertations to hangover breakfasts, Amago Gardens has seen sides of him that would have him pretending they didn't happen altogether. Somehow, they haven't kicked him out yet, so that's one way of knowing he hasn't crossed a line.
The restaurant isn't swarming at the seams yet and the noise only ever picks up occasionally when the Giants score on the television screen. Pouring a glass of water for himself, Izuku loosens a bit. It would probably be for the best, he guesses, watching the sunlight hit the nearby telephone pole. It's best to put some distance between him and Kacchan. The thought makes him laugh, to put some space would imply they were close enough to do so.
Ah, no, the correct way would be to maintain distance between them. It's been there from the beginning, ever-stretching itself to make sure they couldn't see the end of it. Yeah, well, that's sort of, kind of difficult when he's going to be sharing the same living space with Katsuki.
That's going to suck, Izuku can't relax in the one place he's allowed to.
"Here's your order, Midoriya-san! Hope you enjoy your meal," the server chirps and Izuku thanks them, breaking the wooden chopsticks apart.
Izuku chews throw his dinner, the Giants is going strong and the sun sets when he finishes. Kacchan doesn't look 30, and fine lines and wrinkles don't work on him even Time knows it's a losing battle. Izuku drops by the convenience store for more juice, that's gonna be the snack between his all-nighters. And, he has an 8AM class tomorrow. Welp, talk about life being peachy.
He doesn't go home, and loiters around in a park like some weirdo with nowhere to go. It's comfortable to ignore the pink elephant in the room and since Izuku has been doing that uh, his entire life? He's comfortable where he is, tugged in like home.
He picks a red swing not because the colour reminds him of something else. He swings by, setting a decrescendo, coming down from a high. It feels like they've come pretty far from what they used to be. Not in a good way. Not in a bad way. Just there, he guesses, but at least he'd get to see Kacchan around for some time, however little. And unwarranted. And unwilling.
Izuku knows how downright creepy that sounds and it almost bothers him.
A bucket of water was heavy once you had to carry it over a distance.
Izuku's initial enthusiasm faded over time as he held the water bucket and almost crab-walked from the boy's washroom. Today was his turn to clean the blackboard and Kurasaki-kun said he'd get the ladder, they were still trying to figure out the cleaning arrangement for the year.
Unable to carry it for longer, Izuku thumped the bucket down, taking a cheat break in the corridor.
"Hey, Bakugou," called a voice inside the not-so-empty class, "you're gonna join Kamada-senpai from the judo club?"
"Not over his dead body," Kacchan deadpanned, "I'm joining baseball on Mondays, that guy is a fucking perv," and Izuku imagined he swore without flinching.
"Eh, how can you say that? He's Matsuda-sensei's son!"
"That's the only reason he's here, you idiot!" Kacchan sounded annoyed, "he'd still be playing with crayons in pre-school if it wasn't for his dad."
Heeding the sounds of footsteps, Izuku hurriedly picked the bucket of water up, spilling it a little on the wooden corridor but worth it if he got out quietly. He didn't get out quietly. Quiet the opposite, he spilt a little too much and almost hadn't made it to the turn.
"Who the fuck is drowning a lake in the corridor?!"
Bucket be damned, Izuku made a run for it, he'd apologise to Kurasaki-kun later. When he reached his classroom, minus the bucket, he volunteered for classroom duty every Monday.
"Are you sure, Midoriya?" Kurasaki-kun asked, bending his head to the side.
Unsure (not really, he knew exactly why he was doing it) Izuku nodded, "Yeah, I don't mind it," and Kurasaki shrugged.
So, there went his Monday after-hour activity. Instead of sitting in the English cram class wondering why the 'l' in the word calf is not pronounced, Izuku spent his time filling up buckets and watching past the net of the baseball court.
Leaning over the window sill and forgetting altogether about the bucket, Izuku watched Kacchan both miss (very few!) and save( a lot!).
When Kacchan hit a home run and won almost every Monday match, he would be carried on the shoulders of other upper-class boys. It was cool. Really cool. Soaked in the evening lights, Kacchan's bat would make a swing and turn a game around. Kind of like a superhero coming in the nick of time and all Izuku could do was watch from the curb. There was a spread of space between the window Izuku stood by as the water filled, and the baseball field. But in moments like those, Izuku didn't think of it. It resulted in mini floods that drenched his shoes but a little environmental irresponsibility was okay if he got to see Kacchan win.
A month later, Kacchan quit the baseball club and Izuku remained in charge of the Monday after-school. Like a limb stolen, Izuku hobbled his way, his balance became a little wonky but he still made it home in time for mom's pork belly curry. Of course, in perfectly dry shoes.
"Izuku, have a shower first! You're dirty!" His mother scolded as he slumped down to watch All Might's Monday special. Izuku was on his feet in moments, quickly shuffling to his room. Sighing, Inko shook her head and blinked when a giggle erupted from the other side of the landline.
"Is Izuku-kun still a fan of All Might?" Mitsuki asked in good humour, she glanced at a picture on the nearby wall, closer to the end so as to remain hidden: Katsuki and Izuku at an All Might themed booth, "my brat got over it, I think. Oh," Mitsuki hears the front door open, "he's come just now. Wait, let me ask him, Katsuki!"
Katsuki removed his shoes, putting them in the brown cabinet, "what."
"Mind your tone, you—"
"Get over it, hag."
"This brat," his mom swore out loud, "see, Inko, Izuku-kun never gives you this kind of trouble, does he?"
Katsuki paused, gaze shifting at his mother. She complained for a second or more and Katsuki lowered his speed to pass her slowly. He wasn't curious to know anything but it meant that his hag would come and find him about whatever it was she called him for and he'd rather it finish here.
"Are you going for that All Might movie releasing this Saturday?" She asked, keeping the phone down for a bit.
Caught by surprise, Katsuki went wide-eyed, just for a period short enough to escape his mother's stare. He scowled, continuing to climb to his room, "only fucking nerds are into lame shit like that. Not me."
"Katsuki, come back here!"
Katsuki pushed his door open, he dropped his bag on the desk before plopping down on the bed. Pushing back the need to change the sheet until after showering, Katsuki reached out to the drawer of his bedside table.
His hand made a grab for the chocolate he kept, right next to the weekend ticket that he had secretly purchased for the premiere of All Might's Alaskan Adventures. First day, first show, no less. He had accidentally bought two. And had sold the other one for a price that made him feel better about being ridiculous enough to buy two in the first place.
"But Doctor, I survive on coffee and sugar."
"Your teeth don't," Katsuki replies bald-facedly, prescribing medicines. The patient groans. In his defence, it's not always a poor diet. It's just that this guy just has terrible luck along with bad dental hygiene and a combo of genetic factors. Doubly fucked. Katsuki almost feels sorry for him.
He recommends a couple of painkillers and schedules a tooth extraction for the next week. His assistant tells him that was the last patient for the day and Katsuki removes his mask, throwing it in the bin. He puts his coat on the hanger.
"Have a good day, doctor," his assistant waves him off and Katsuki nods before walking out.
He could walk but he takes the bus, the city lights nictate and Jesus fuck, there are so many people just waving their mouths about. Was Musutafu always this loud? As of late, noise becomes unbearable and just like that, shifting his attention to the stores passing by becomes an affordable ease to his brain. A weight settles nicely on his shoulder, Katsuki doesn't know what it is but as of late he's just been noticing it more, it's always been around him. The kind that makes him wonder if everyone goes through it too; an isolation that's basically a rite of passage.
He wouldn't ask anyone because fuck that. But. You know. Is it supposed to be this exhausting?
Katsuki checks his phone, he should schedule his gym routine somewhere in the morning. Evenings are too crowded. He'll settle for a jog maybe. Also, he should buy a new umbrella, he threw his old, dysfunctional one in the trash. Katsuki takes the elevator and removes the key to unlock the door only to realise Izuku is home. Oh, that's new. Katsuki's jaw tenses and he can hear Izuku in the washroom, talking on the phone.
By the time Katsuki comes out of the shower, there's a bowl (one which he's never seen in the kitchen) of boiling hot noodles kept on the wooden coffee table and the television is switched on. He watches Izuku excitedly sit down and the screen changes to a kid's channel.
Toddler, he reminds himself.
'....and All Might has vanquished the Trio of the Dark Forest, will he be able to find the lost crystal of Aztec Gold and prevent the curse—'
"—Oh, Kacchan, you're home," Izuku notices, lowering the volume because apparently, Katsuki hadn't moved from his spot, "do you want the television right now?"
It looks like it would kill him if Katsuki says yes and Katsuki is almost petty.
"Nope, go ahead and watch your cartoons, fanboy," Katsuki answers with a roll of his eyes, "God, you're still a fucking kid, aren't you?"
"I kinda always was," he replies, "uh, yeah," and that sounds more like, you might have known if we remotely interacted in school. He probably does it on a fluke, Katsuki hates it either way, cause it makes him feel like that's Katsuki's damn fault. He's not young enough to blame it on Deku, and that sucks the most.
Katsuki takes eggs out of the fridge and makes a sandwich for himself. Then, he drops down next to Izuku to watch the television programme because then, he'll feel the same discomfort.
It's a win-win since he can watch the All Might programme too and successfully duck down for the cognitive dissonance to fly over his head.
When All Might is almost done with hauling a random NPC into a mini volcano, Katsuki wonders how the guy hasn't croaked yet. All Might is literally having fun just messing around. And also, Deku's fingers haven't loosened around the remote once. From the corner of his eye, he's restless when he's not holding onto something, he might start tapping if not. During the interval, Izuku goes to wash his bowl and Katsuki drinks water from his glass, ever so watchful.
His gaze shifts to the screen and soon enough the lost crystal is found below a corpse at the bottom of a cult temple which is fair. All For One, the Supreme Lord and main antagonist of the show, has given far crazier set-ups for All Might to thwart through. The theme song is playing when Katsuki puts his dishes to wash and the television is switched off but Katsuki discerns the lack of footsteps.
Closing the tap, Katsuki pivots his heel to talk to him only to catch Izuku right when he's turning away. Normally, that wouldn't stop Katsuki from saying what he wants but between them, this is the norm. Deku isn't ever there when he looks back. That means certain things, like the lines between them, and Katsuki could cross over them like a kid who refuses to think inside the box. But what would be the point? Why waste effort on something like this when Katsuki has much better work to do?
Sleep, for an instance.
He's not angry, this doesn't piss him off. It didn't bother him back then so why would it start now? Katsuki had forgotten his own discomfort in wanting to see if Izuku felt it. Now that he knows he does, he's come back a full circle on not knowing what he should do.
Flossing his teeth, Katsuki puts the string away before rinsing his mouth.
He catches the depth of his scowl in the mirror which, wow, he didn't know he could look that ugly. As if it tells something, Katsuki leaves the washroom in what could be best justified with plain ignorance. The sheets are cold and from his bed, there are several boxes waiting to be unpacked. They look very tempting especially now because sleep is being a slippery asshole.
Katsuki groans.
It's always like this with that guy.
Like Katsuki is fucking jinxed with him or something.
"Can't believe they made us do shit like this. Hey Katsuki, what's your word?"
Katsuki spared a glance at the graduation wall. Somewhere up the line, some graduates thought it would be a brilliant idea to make every graduate describe their middle school years in one word and stick it up on a wall-sized notice board in the gymnasium.
"Nandemonai," Katsuki replied boredly. He had stuck around a little while longer after his parents left the award ceremony because.....yeah, he didn't know why either. He wasn't sentimental but knowing this was going to be the last time he'd be allowed on campus without prior permission from the Principal made him look around a bit. There was no way in hell he was going to make a second trip for some last-minute, shitty transcripts.
"Man, it sure did blow over quickly," his friend commented.
His other friend snorted, "did it though? I slept really well through the principal's speech."
"Hey, Bakugou, listen to this guy saying he slept for thirty minutes while standing," his friend snickered and Katsuki grunted in response, walking forward as they fell behind. Katsuki crosses over from Sections A and B to Section C. Recognising the handwriting, Katsuki stopped to clarify.
Confidently, it was Deku's, that guy couldn't write Kanji for shit, he could've only got slightly better. Katsuki stared for longer as he contemplated the '懐かしい' on the white A4 size sheet.
Natsukashii.
He scowled at the meaning. Hah. Yeah, right.
They were never in the same class again, were they? The thought Deku intruded his mind, he'd like to think he hadn't thought of him over the years. Anything he knew about him was from floating rumours like he got confessed to. Leave alone the fact that some girl thought Deku was remotely attractive, Katsuki couldn't wrap his head around Deku having friends. He used to be a pebble in that golden sandbox and now he has friends?! Everything about it rubbed him wrong.
And, he was here today, wasn't he? Katsuki almost hadn't noticed him but it would practically mean blindness for him if he couldn't recognise that dogged tuft of green in a pool of students. It was ridiculous how Deku looked, such a goddamn freak. Besides, Katsuki couldn't help himself from noticing, the principal's address was long and boring. And Deku was there, third row, second column, standing upright as if he had been paid to listen to such crap. Well, that was one thing that didn't change. Bastard still seemed to daydream his way to the fairies.
He might look like he pays attention but if someone were to snap a finger next to his ear right now, he'd jump up like a harassed cat. The thought had stolen a chuckle out of Katsuki. Around that time was when the principal finally sounded like he was ending his address with:
'...so, dear students, reflect. Keep what's important to you in front of you, don't let it slip away from you. Remember not to forget.'
About fucking time too, Katsuki would've started rolling skulls if it hadn't finished then. He walked far past that stupid wall, not waiting for the others to catch up to him. Who else could have possibly waiting for him at the end of the corridor but Deku? He was talking to their sensei. When Katsuki saw him, his systems tightened up, grappling to survive in his growing body as if Katsuki missed out on a full-scale detail of the big picture. Like something that had existed in place of them a long time ago. And, it happened only when he saw Deku, like now.
As a phenomenon, it was called object permanence. As an experience, it felt like rearranging deck chairs on the goddamn Titanic.
Katsuki hadn't realised how long he had been looking or what was on his face. What he did realise was that by the time he came back to his senses, Deku was standing alone, his big, kind of creepy kind of-well- big, green eyes looking at him. It wasn't a drill or a trick of the light. Nine whole years of who knows what the fuck condensed into a single moment and Katsuki couldn't have held it with his bare hands.
And Deku, being Deku, did the only thing Deku knew. He fucking smiled at Katsuki like Katsuki and he shared something. Like they knew each other which no, thank fuck, they didn't, and Deku assumed from a single glance that it was okay? Well, screw him and his smile.
Katsuki's scowl deepened like a war-prone trench. An acidic frustration bubbled to his roof like it had a powerhouse that Katsuki wasn't aware of. Suddenly charged, Katsuki took a sharp turn, refusing to look at him any longer and luckily, his friends had come in time.
"Hey Bakugou, wait a secon--oomph," Katsuki threw his bag at them and one of them stumbled as they looked at him taking a sharp turn to sprint down the stairs, "wait, where are you going?"
"Sports field!"
"Right now?! Oh, what the hell?" They murmured, rustling down the stairs to join him.
Running would make him feel better and he was pretty sure he would forget all about this by the time he reached home. And he was right, dusted away like it never happened.
So.
Would you be surprised to learn that it's actually not a win-win? In fact, not only is it not a win-win, the whole situation had taken a 180-degree turn and now Katsuki is facing the consequence he helped create. It was supposed to be a one-time thing but Katsuki's patients are too fucking healthy with their teeth these days and he clocks out earlier than usual.
Directly, it causes Katsuki to come around the same time there's an All Might programme running. Indirectly, it eventually puts Katsuki in a position.
Like this:
Katsuki cracks his knuckles, mentally ticking off the protein stock for this week. He's going to murder someone if he has to survive on tofu and eggs again. Why aren't the convenience stores around more convenient? Defeats the wholeass point. He had just taken a shower after reading a research article about Robotic Assistance in dental procedures. As soon as he comes out of the room, the little upbeat theme song rings in his background and he does the mistake of looking over.
It's nothing not normal. Izuku is only watching the programme, eyes glued to the screen, you'd think he's watching it for the first time.
Which episode is it anyway? Oh, he identifies the red mountainscape, the journey to Snowspider cliffs. Right, Katsuki has seen that one a lot. He made quite the ruckus about it when his mother refused to buy the limited edition cards for this episode. Hag, he thinks involuntarily. And then, Izuku's shoulders come down, sore from being cramped and it doesn't bother Katsuki as does the shallow, blink-and-you-miss glance Izuku throws over his shoulder.
Katsuki blinks.
......what the hell was that about?
Katsuki stays put and the trouble starts when Izuku doesn't do it again. Was he waiting for him? Or was he relieved? Katsuki puts the rice in the cooker and makes a decent enough miso soup. It's a quick fix. As if Katsuki couldn't wait to stay put and watch. During the interval, Izuku comes to wash his plates away and Katsuki doesn't like the incongruency of their timing. They might as well just eat together.
On another note, Katsuki eyes the instant noodle cup neatly filling up the garbage. That's just gross now. Is that all he eats? He doesn't touch what Katsuki makes and Katsuki lets his tongue click in distaste. Nevermind. Let him do whatever he wants, why does it bother him?
The programme finishes when Katsuki is sitting down for dinner.
Quietly, Izuku leaves and if it's so quiet, Katsuki should be able to finish the last morsel with peace. But quiet is pesky when it's like this.
Having lived several years by himself, Katsuki hasn't felt a shred of loneliness. But the moment he meets this nerd, suddenly the world bends over backwards to spill into empty spaces just to show him what he's lacking.
He's already used to that sort of experience. Kinda. Now that he's older, he thinks he should be able to sort this mess out. Why does Izuku Midoriya get on his nerves? They were just kids in some random sandbox and they haven't been the same in over two decades.
Sometimes, Katsuki thinks he's got it all figured out: recurring times he's honest with himself, that maybe he wanted Izuku Midoriya around.
Other times, he thinks he could read every little page in every little book that has ever been made on God's green Earth and still have something that he doesn't fucking get. Unfortunately, the something, in his case, is Izuku Midoriya.
It's been a whole show of him see-sawing between those two possibilities.
Katsuki is fine as long as he's not repeatedly reminded of it. Except now, when he comes in and Izuku is there watching the daily All Might programme. And it feels familiar. Stupid but familiar. Annoying but delicate. Katsuki is a simple man in his thirties, all he wants is a straight answer. What he gets is him weighing his options carefully, watching Izuku— Izuku who is affected but doesn't tell and Katsuki can't tell if it's the discomfort with a stranger or something else.
Honestly, is that a question he even wants an answer to?
Because Katsuki comes around when the programme is on. Whether it's the theme song fading into normal white noise or Katsuki sitting down with Izuku to watch a loophole-plotted episode in his childhood favourite anime. When the credits roll by, they stop. They part ways and that's their interaction. They don't speak, Katsuki goes to bed and falls asleep with an aching jaw and painful gums, as if something is trapped between his teeth and the irony of that isn't lost on him.
And it's not like he hadn't tried. Katsuki huffs, before taking a bite of the rice. Sometimes, he was successful in knowing who Deku has become.
Katsuki had hoped initially that if he could know Izuku now..... if he could convince his brain that Izuku had changed.
It would re-arrange the neurons in his head to reconnect on different networks: That they weren't kids anymore and Katsuki had changed too.
Katsuki glares at the ending song of 'All Might's Adventures' for season three, episode nine. And rolls his eyes.
Yeah, went real fucking peachy, didn't it?
From a distance, Izuku peers at his roommate while closing the door when Katsuki switches off the television. Izuku leans back on it, brows twitching before breathing.
Heavily, he lets the sigh leave his body.
He was fifteen under the spring skies of March.
Izuku spent most of the week after graduation waiting for the results of the entrance exams. Yuuei wasn't an easy come and easy go. Along with the general entrance exam, there had been an extempore and private interview round. That extempore round had been where he sorta, kinda screwed up. Public speaking just wasn't his best forte.
So when the acceptance letter finally came through his mail, Izuku was deliriously happy for a week. His mother had watched amused.
But both of them were silently and severely glad that Izuku got in through merit and scholarship. They've been a little tight on money since dad's fall from the staircase and it almost broke his mom knowing they couldn't go to their favourite restaurant for Izuku's birthday last year
Izuku stopped reading the brochure, peering into the early flowering of cherry blossoms outside his apartment. He was growing up and he was watching himself grow up too. Things might get bigger and they wouldn't stop. He kept the brochure along with his other documents in the closet and came to a halt. A picture was taped on the inside of his closet's door. It had been there for so long that it was practically second nature to ignore it.
Herschel's comet had passed through the skies. It had been ten years ever since the visit and Izuku wondered where it was now. He'd see it again in another seventeen years and what would have Izuku done by then? Would he have seen the world and met new people? And would he have reconciled with those left behind?
The picture was kept safely within the closet and Izuku paused. Crap. The landline started ringing at the same time he rushed to the kitchen, he switched the gas off, and the water had reduced to half of its size and Izuku sighed. Ignoring the vessel, Izuku picked the phone up.
"Izuku, I'm so sorry but could you please deliver a package to your uncle?" His mother asked. "I've bought it with me so meet me and go there."
"Ah uh, now?"
"Yes, come soon!" His mother more or less demanded.
The urgency brought him into action and Izuku fumbled with double-checking that everything was switched off and locking the door. As he reached the place his mother was at, his brows began furrowing.
Isn't this....
"...what are you doing here, Deku?"
Izuku followed the voice to its owner. Kacchan was taking his bicycle inside, they had just met a week back and Izuku remembered their interaction extensively well. He looked like he would beat Izuku up and down the corridor unprovoked.
To think he was still someone distasteful to Kacchan with barely any exchange really was something huh?
"Hi, K-kacchan," Izuku greeted, "I—"
The door opened, revealing their mothers and his mother had a white package, "Izuku, there you are," Inko called over, "go along and give this to Uncle Haru, he needs it by tomorrow morning."
And at the same time, Aunty glanced over at Kacchan, "Katsuki, take him there on your bike and bring him back home."
The response was almost immediate: a solid, "get lost, I'm not doing it." and a nervous, "eh, Auntie, it's alright, I'll take the bus."
Even Izuku's mom, ever-cautious of inconvenience, frowned, "Mitsuki-san, I think that may be a little..."
"Come along, it's my fault you couldn't give it to him in the first place," Aunty argued, "oi brat, you're dropping and picking him—"
"Not a goddamn chance in Hell," Kacchan flipped up, "go ask some other son of yours for charity work, old hag."
"Some other son of mine?! The nerve of you, you punk," Aunty was held back physically by Inko and Izuku felt worried that his mother's grip might wither. "It's unfortunate enough that you're my only—"
"Aunty, it's really not that big a deal," Izuku said, coming in between the mother and son, "besides, it might be difficult for Kacchan to carry two people's weight, he can't—"
"Hey! Deku, quit yapping shit like you know me," Kacchan snapped back at him, native to biting the hands that feed him, "what do you mean I can't?!"
"Well, it's not like he's saying something wrong!" Aunty latched on, "you're too weak to take two people at once aren't ya, brat?!"
There was silence then and Izuku swallowed his own spit, about to slowly take a step back to cut and run with the package. His mother will understand and she might have even encouraged it.
"Deku."
Almost gearing up for a record-speed marathon, Izuku froze, "yes?"
"Get on," a pause, "now."
Like a fluctuation in his lizard brain, Izuku jumped into action, scrambling over his feet to sit behind Kacchan. The white package was securely tied up to the front.
Aiming one deadly finger at his smug mother, Katsuki declared, "when I get back from making you eat your words, there better not be any of your shitty grilled eggplant left for dinner!"
"This little shit," Aunty growled, suddenly leaping forward from Inko's grasp. The bike rammed forward down the street, and Kacchan narrowly avoided his mother's reach meanwhile giving Izuku the fright of his life as he caught onto his seat. This was one of those late 1970's Miyata models with a carrier seat and Izuku hadn't ever expected Katsuki to own one. It seemed like a hand-me-down and he knew Kacchan has a way better bike, he saw it earlier this year; a gorgeous red mountain bike, double disc brake and all.
"Oi," Izuku heard between the city traffic's jargon, "you gonna tell me where this old man lives or what?"
"Uh, yeah, umm," Izuku's memory almost went blank, "near Kome complex, the mall—"
"I know where that is," Kacchan said, sounding vexed.
"I'm sorry, Kacchan, I didn't mean to—"
"Fucking save it, shitnerd."
Izuku made himself small on the backseat of Kacchan's cycle and wondered how he got there. Kacchan skillfully snaked his way through several traffic junctions, it was almost impressive. Almost because a blush crept up his hand with his biceps flexing as he contested on where he should put his hands.
When a sudden break made him land nose-first into Kacchan's back for the second time, Kacchan looked over his shoulder and threw a, "hold me, you jackass, do you wanna go flying? I'm not paying for your damn funeral especially right now!"
Flushing, Izuku swallowed, "ye-yeah, Kacchan," and hesitantly, his hands looped around Kacchan's torso. Nine years of school and this was the closest he had been to Kacchan. Something hit him too late and Izuku picked up on it.
He frowned, neck craning to look over Kacchan's shoulder.
"Wait, what do you mean right now?"
'Right now,' referred to them being on the top of a steep downhill road. "Kacchan?" Izuku says, his stomach impulsively calculated the gravity and it dropped, his internal muscle screamed death and his mouth said, "Kacchan."
And Kacchan pulled them right over the edge.
The winds blew through Izuku's hair, and a sheer thrill overtook his nerves, pumping in shots of adrenaline. His eyes widened and Izuku held Kacchan close in that one moment when the bike's momentum hurled them into mid-air. Where orange skies touched them and light shifted through Kacchan's hair. Izuku took a sharp breath when the wheels hit the pavement. His face was numb and the speed knifed them through the slightly crowded roads and it forever altered his brain chemistry. Soy sauce. Cutlets frying in the oil. Salarymen with briefcases. Yakitori smoke and car diesel. Izuku felt like he had seen a movie in a few moments and it ended only when the pace grew slower as Kacchan stopped at the red light.
The blond snuck a short glance at Izuku, "you didn't croak, shitnerd."
"Kacchan...."
"Quit holding me like that, you tryna mash my intestines together?"
"Then why'd you ask me to do it?!"
"Huh, what was that?"
"Nothing!"
Katsuki sketched a sharp look at him and Izuku loosened his hold, the rest of his ride was smooth with a few bumps here and there. Kacchan had, in fact, managed to climb the little hill to Uncle Haru's house. Spite still fueled him like a raging sphere of a star, Izuku skipped a breath at the feeling of its light.
His uncle greeted them with a smile and thanked them for bringing the document along. Kacchan stubbornly waited outside, leaning against the cycle He slid Izuku some money to buy himself something nice from the neighbouring shop. Izuku tried to refuse but his uncle was far more persuasive. Asking him to give Inko his greetings, he pushed Izuku out in the direction of the sweet shop. The shop was small and Izuku bent down to look beyond the little glass for the sweets displayed.
Wavering between Anpan and Melonpan, he chose the latter. Taking the brown package, Izuku walked down to where Kacchan stood, he held it out to them.
"What's this?"
"Uncle Haru wanted to thank you."
Kacchan stared at the package and then at Izuku, "and so did I. Thank you, Kacchan."
"I didn't do it for your lame—"
"I know," Izuku cut off, that was a first and Kacchan glared at him for it, moving in threateningly. Kacchan's face was more angular, sharper, and angrier and the red in his eyes burnt as brightly as Izuku remembered them.
"I'm surprised you didn't piss yourself when we went down Watari street."
"Kacchan, I wasn't scared, I'm not a kid anymore and anyway," Izuku stalled, hands at the back.
"Anyway what? Complete your damn sentences, you idiot," Kacchan barked out with wrinkles and snarls.
"Kacchan was there too," Izuku pointed out. Trust had been passed down like fading scriptures, it was important. Even if the times they lived in made it bitterly irrelevant.
Katsuki stared at him blankly, "what a fucking weirdo," he told to his face, and snatched the brown package with no care whatsoever. Kacchan ate the melon pan, twisting his features at the white sweet.
"Too goddamn sweet, you like your teeth rotting?"
"Actually, Kacchan, in terms of teeth, sugar is not inherently bad. It's the frequency of exposure that sugar intake has on your teeth that's bad because since your teeth already have bacteria to fee—"
"Shut the fuck up before I deck you, Deku."
Izuku felt a bubble in his chest, he gestures to the melonpan with a jerk of his head, "It's the best of its kind."
"The fuck it's not. I know places that give way better stuff than this," Kacchan replied snarkily, motioning him to get on.
"There aren't many sweet shops around our locality," Izuku commented as they started moving and in his heart, this felt too much like a dream. Cycling down a path as he watched the wind sway Kacchan's hair, Kacchan being a breath away from him. It all felt so unreal. Not...not like regaining something that was lost but letting his fingers trace out details in something he had created long ago and thinking: oh, this is familiar.
"That's cause you stay cooped up all day long."
"And how would you know?"
"Your mom talks to mine. Go figure."
Izuku's jaw dropped. He had almost forgotten about that. "Right. And where are these sweet shops?" Izuku stated, because as much as he did stay cooped up, he couldn't have been that oblivious to the stores around his house.
Kacchan spared him a glance, because, of course, he had just challenged his word. Second time today, by the way. And, Izuku, for a fact, knew that the only thing keeping him from being thrown off the bike was the repercussion of Kacchan's mom screaming his head off.
"Then, I'll fucking show it to your blind ass and watch your swallow your vomit."
"That's a little viol—" Izuku stopped and chuckled to himself, that's a little like Kacchan.
"The hell are you laughing for, weirdo?" Kacchan said and Izuku shook his head, telling him it was nothing. The ride back home wasn't smooth, there were bumps and almost accidents with smoother terrains. Izuku reached his home fundamentally in one piece when it was dark. Kacchan drove the bike away without halting even for a second. It hadn't stopped Izuku from staring at the road that he had passed through and the road Kacchan went on.
His smile reached his eyes and they creased golden in the glare of the street light.
Izuku was fifteen under the spring skies of March and it felt like things were changing.
Izuku is thirty-two and his world begins to spin in retrograde. He's not sure how it happened. But it did. Kacchan seems to spend time with him. Easily, it becomes his favourite part of the day and it's a little more evident.
"Do you by any chance have a stable flow of sex now?"
Izuku lets out a squeak and covers his mouth, "we're in the corridor! In! Public!"
"No, but seriously," Shigaraki says, "you look different, subtle-happy really. There's gotta be something new and it's gotta be sex."
How he could be so confident about being inappropriate is beyond Izuku. "No, it's not! Can we not have this conversation?!" he asks.
"I'm just saying."
"Maybe don't say it?"
Shigaraki snorts as if it had never been a matter of choice, "anyway, it's a good look on you, try keeping it. It's great to know this college hasn't sucked the life out of somebody."
"You're welcome?" Izuku says, speed-walking to his bike. He takes a trip down to the Amago Gardens, parcelling what would be his lunch. Collecting it, he pedals past the post office and the regular shops that he sees. People's work continues its way, it's not rushed. It's rather symmetrical and comforting. A place that Izuku is well-fitted into, the voices of his locality often consisted of just enough rainy breeze tapping against windows, people going for jogs, the traffic and a swish of underlying breaths being taken together.
Izuku returns to work quickly for a double hour of theory. His students are enthusiastic if not a bit sleepy which is understandable, the weather today didn't inspire people to get out of bed. Izuku is mid-way teaching the curve of diminishing marginal utility when the first raindrop hits the glass. It's an on-and-off process from there. It's probably climate change seeing as they don't ever receive rainfall around this time of the year but Izuku would like to think someone up there had button-pressing issues. Creative imagination and all.
After finishing class, Izuku takes his raincoat from his department drawers. The wheels of his bike hit the road and Izuku avoids a traffic jam by taking a long way around, it was alright that he'd be under light rain for quite some distance. He just couldn't take this kind of noise in this weather.
Missing the green light, Izuku stops near a bus stand, clicking his tongue.
A raindrop falls on his eyelash and Izuku blinks, rubbing it away before looking around to his side. He sees Kacchan rushing into the bus stand's bustling shelter with a crisp black umbrella.
Before he can help it, Izuku calls out, "Kacchan?"
Alert and a little red, Katsuki looks his way and frowns, stepping out, "Isn't your college the other way?"
"There's a bad traffic jam near Kenji street so I took a right from the signal before it," he says, pulling his hood down. Izuku looks at the crowd of people at the bus stand and does that bothersome thing again.
"If it's okay, I could drop us both."
The weather makes his head unsteady and Izuku flinches hard enough to feel the handle grips embedded into his palm. Why did I do that? Kacchan wouldn't—
"Kay," Katsuki says but not without an addition of, "it's either you or these fuckers in a turkey-stuffed bus."
"Really?"
Katsuki glares at him, sitting behind him with the umbrella. Izuku blinks, a furious smile settles upon his lips and whatever it means is not Izuku's business for today. "Think you can handle both of us, nerd?" Katsuki asks, and they're at the same height, how ridiculous, how short is Izuku anyway?
"I can."
Katsuki snorts, muttering a 'yeah sure,' along the way.
Petrichor surfs on the wind and the rear lights of vehicles are blurry with fog. His brain easily smashes an all-time high alert, poor thing really, must've thought Izuku is on the verge of dying with his stomach-churning anxiety. If his brain was any more sentient, it would call him an idiot. Pedalling forward, Izuku grips the handles harder to prevent the shivering.
The light turns a pervasive green and Izuku's eyes reflect it.
It's calming with the rain. It's quieter in spite of the world around them. The kind that comes when the certainty of never being in the same position twice is broken. It's stupid how glad he feels. Izuku wouldn't have thought this would happen. When the roads are empty enough, he steals a glance over his shoulder, does he remember? Izuku doubts it but between him and hope, one could guess the winner. He's not Kacchan, he doesn't win in things like this.
They reach the parking lot of the apartments and Izuku removes his raincoat, his shoes are drenched. Shit, he groans. The wet socks jumble his facial nerves tight.
"Are you coming, you idiot?" Katsuki barks out, holding the elevator for long.
"Ah, yes, one second," Izuku utters, flinching as he feels the squish in his shoes, "thanks."
Katsuki grunts, clicking the buttons and Izuku runs a hand through his hair. They are drenched around the edges, he squeezes his green curls and water streams down from between his fingers. The keys almost slip twice from his hand before he stamps them in.
Sitting down on the genkan, Izuku carefully removes his socks and puts the shoes aside. For now, he keep the socks above the shoe rack, hoping he'd remember to take them for laundry. Katsuki beside him removes his coat and puts it on the hanger, the umbrella is left open to dry off quickly. They look at each other by accident in the dark of the foyer, and in the years' worth of experience in habits and impulses, they look away.
Katsuki switches the lights on the way to his room and shuts the door.
Izuku stays on the couch, deeming himself not drenched enough to be a prompt concern. He hears the shower door open in Kacchan's room and yeah, he can hear that. The need to relax his muscles is so strong, the rain has made him tired and he literally can't lift a finger up.
A towel is thrown at him and Izuku blinks at the white, "heh?"
"Oi, have you just been sitting there?" Katsuki demands, "I'm not catching a cold from you, Deku."
"Uh, yeah, yes, I was just," Izuku smiles, "tired."
Katsuki takes a look at him, head to toe, "whatever, I'm making dinner, you better be out by that time."
"Ah okay," a pause ensures, "wait, for me?"
"You see anyone else around here?"
Izuku jerks his head back, "I," he swallows it, "no."
"That's what I thought," Katsuki says, flicking his wrist to shoo him away. Izuku doesn't look at it too critically. He bows and runs a quick bath for himself. Sneezing on the way out, Izuku rubs the towel once around his head.
Fitting into a shirt that says 'Phone' in an italic font, Izuku wears his sweatpants. There's a pot of mapo tofu on the kitchen counter alongside a bowl of rice and egg, he catches Katsuki eyeing the height of the coffee table
"Ah, Kacchan, wait a moment," he says, going to the side to adjust the coffee table's height to a lower degree. He pushes the sofa a little further to allow better movement and lays the cushion mats.
"Just buy a decent dinner table the next time, you idiot," Katsuki rebukes, putting the food down.
"I used to live alone—"
"Don't you dare give me that shit," Katsuki replies in a clipped tone, "just admit it, you suck at taking care of yourself."
That. Welp. Yeah, sure, Kacchan is right. But Izuku hadn't quite expected that turn in this conversation, "I try."
"Like a loser."
It goes straight to his soul and Izuku wisely chooses to change the subject, "let's eat, Kacchan."
Katsuki adjusts himself on the cushion mat, "you missed your damn show by the way."
"The re-runs happen at 8 AM every day," Izuku assures and Katsuki rolls his eyes and murmurs something close to Yeah, you'd know that wouldn't you?
They eat and Izuku wonders if he should fill the space with some small talk. But there's nothing much in common here so he's got no seed to plough in. How did your day go? Izuku's fingers have to entangle themselves into a deformed fist to stop himself from saying that; he couldn't ask that to Kacchan! They weren't close enough!
Maybe it's better that way, he thinks begrudgingly. Besides, Kacchan's food is a little too good to not be eaten in silence. He hasn't had homemade food in a while, when did he last visit his mom again? The summer festival flashes by before his eyes and Izuku winces. Has it really been that long? Jeez.
"Thanks a lot, Kacchan, I know you didn't really wanna do it but appreciate it nonetheless," he tells when he's close to finishing his rice bowl. His toes curl and he tries convincing himself that it's due to the occasional touches of the cold floor. Not because Katsuki is sizing him up in his gaze.
"I mean, cause like you didn't wanna have anything with me, so," Izuku shifts in his seat, Kacchan is right, he should invest in a decent dinner set, god damn this cushion, "so it might have been troublesome for you."
A gap of silence pursues.
"Anything else on your mind that needs confessing?" Katsuki states bluntly, and Izuku very well knows he doesn't mean it but that does nothing to his convention of jumping head-first into ditches layered with concrete at the bottom.
"I didn't think we'd be together here, it's been a while since high school," he says, there are parts of his head begging him to shut up but it's been a long day or year or years really, pick your poison.
"So?" Katsuki challenges like there's not much worth in it and one of these days, Izuku will agree with him.
"So, I'm glad to see you again, Kacchan," Izuku smiles, shoulders shrugging like it isn't the weight of the world in some sense, "that's all."
He leaves the table with more ease than anticipated. Watching the spring return to his steps, Katsuk's jaw strains to accommodate the odour of unwashed rage from between his teeth. It's not even anger really. If he sits to think about it, anger doesn't survive a fourteen-year apocalypse. But to name something resentment when it's so laid-back and muted seems wrong, doesn't it?
It was easier to say they didn't talk much in high school.
Katsuki sets his rice aside, appetite having gone to the dogs. Washing the vessels before putting them on the stand, he takes most of the food into the fridge. That's all. Katsuki grips the counter lightly, taking a measured breath as if he balanced on it.
It was easier to say they didn't talk much in high school because that's the deal with complexities. Diluting them until your mind was fooled is the only way to cope with something you didn't understand. How would that sound anyway? That Katsuki tried to reach out to Deku, to find some middle ground in something he had no control over. Deku never looked his way and fuck knows why Katsuki did. Fundamentally, he guesses some part of him thought they missed each other. It used to gross him out which to be fair, still does.
And in place of this if Katsuki just says: We knew each other.
Isn't that simpler? Isn't that better? It's not the truth and let's forget that Katsuki fucking despises lying to himself about something and doing this goes against the grain for him. But he's not gone thirty-something years in his life by forcing his will on himself. Sometimes, people became something they're not for peace of fucking mind. Katsuki learnt the hard way around that one-way street.
It's irritating enough that he has to do this for this jackass.
He looks towards Izuku's room. He's really gonna be here for six months and in spite of all that he's covertly done to avoid certain things, there's a morsel of temptation to try again. Oh fuck off, Katsuki thinks the moment he recognises it, having been almost too old for this. It comes like a blip on the radar of some part deep and mad in his mind, that yeah, maybe, this time it could work.
Only this time, it doesn't fucking stop blipping.