Chapter Text
His fingers twirled the drumsticks over and over again as he sat in the private room reserved for him. The paint was peeling on one of the walls and there was a stain in the carpet from some party that likely happened decades ago. His leg bounced. His sweat clung to his skin. His clothes were too tight.
Why was it so damn stuffy in this dressing room? The Madison Square Garden was supposed to be it. Top Tier. Elite. The end all be all for music venues as far as America went. Only the best played here. If you sold out here, you’d be one of the greats. History was made here. Why couldn’t they put a damn fan or AC unit in this room?
What he wouldn’t give for a drink right now. A line. A needle.
No.
Katsuki’s lip curled in disgust. He threw the drumsticks on the floor and scraped his hands over his face, through his hair. He doesn’t need that anymore. He doesn’t… He was better than that. He was—is—better than that. The best.
Or at least, Izuku thought so.
Katsuki’s mind wandered to the freckled man. He hoped he was happy, wherever Izuku was. A part of him wondered if Deku would be there tonight, like so many nights ago. Looking up at him from the crowd below or from across the stage and a mic in his hands with wide iridescent eyes that Katsuki could fall into and drown.
Then again, that’s what he always did. Drown in Izuku. In his arms, his skin, his voice, his veins, his breath. Izuku drowned Katsuki even in his dreams. It always came down to him.
“This is for your own good, Kacchan.” Emerald eyes hardened into stone. A scarred hand pulled away from his tattooed one. “They’ll help you get better.”
“You don’t know shit, Deku! You think you’re better than me? Huh?! You’re USELESS! FUCK You!” More hands pulled him away, and tears were added to the ocean he drowned in.
“Kacchan please stop! Enough of this! I’ll visit when you’re done with detox. Sir, please, keep me updated?” Deku turned to the extras in white coats while the pigs with badges restrained him. An all too familiar feeling for his liking.
“FUCK YOU, DIE! You want to be useful?! Take a swan dive off the roof and get the hell out of my life! I was just fine before you came along!” He raged and spat, shivers wracking his body. He needed another bump. He needed... “I don’t ever want to see you again!”
“I’m sorry.” Deku’s lips kept moving but Katsuki couldn’t hear what he said around the ringing in his ears and the fucking need. Izuku didn’t visit, and Katsuki fell.
I’m sorry.
This is for your own good.
I’m sorry.
Help you.
Sorry.
Please.
Stop.
Get better. Better. Better.
Take a swan dive.
Swan dive.
Die.
I’m sorry.
Sorry.
Sorry.
I ---e --u.
His throat itched and constricted. His heart was a jackhammer in his ears, like waves pounding against rock. He needed to breathe. Katsuki clawed at his black tank top, all but ripping it off his body.
The faint sound of the bass starting up pulled him from the water. He could hear the roar of the crowd as whoever the fuck their opener was took to the stage. Katsuki huffed and picked up his sticks from the carpet, sliding in his chair in front of the mirror on the vanity desk. He tapped out a light beat on the desk surface, the rhythmic clacking of the wood bringing him into focus.
The routine was familiar as his hands warmed to the movements and gradually stopped their shaking. Fuck, a shot would be nice. Just for the nerves. But he couldn’t. For Deku. Tonight, Katsuki had something to prove, damn it. He was going to be unforgettable. He was going to show the world, show Deku, that he made it. He was number one. Go Beyond. Plus ultra, bitches.
Katsuki chuckled at the afterthought. The damn nerd still invaded his mind even off the drugs. He finally dragged his gaze to the mirror, meeting himself there. His piercings felt weird against his skin after going so long without them. His eyes were smudged with black. It barely hid the dark circles underneath them but not the dull color of his irises. His blond spikes were just a touch shorter than his old style and now tousled from his hands; his brows pulled down in a scowl. His lips looked pale as they thinned, and his jaw twitched. He quickly looked away.
His eyes pulled to the sheet of paper on the vanity. The DYNAMIGHT logo was printed across the top, with the words Ground Zero Tour below. The set list was numbered out for tonight. Sixteen songs, an easy night to get them back in the public eye. Crimson eyes read over the titles, then read over them again. They were all new songs, from the album set to release at the end of the tour as a rebranding promotional. Titled: Down in Flames.
Go figure. The label thought it was memorable. Katsuki didn’t think those cunts were as funny as they tried to be. Fuck ‘em. This wasn’t his out. He wasn’t done yet. He still had shit to say.
Kirishima had recently visited him in his last phase of rehab. Writing had kept his mind off the pills, playing had kept his mind off Izuku…sometimes. The band had said they’d written some songs too, and wanted to compile a short album with all the new stuff. Katsuki didn’t want those losers producing the words that absolutely gutted him to write. But, like everything else… Katsuki lost that argument. Contractually bound and all that shit.
Yeah, he admitted that he lost. First and only time he will fucking admit it. (Not including the green elephant missing from the room.)
They managed to get permission for Katsuki to record at the studio. Limited hours. Supervised of course. He asked about Deku, but no one gave him the answers he wanted so he stopped asking. He was gone, back to his old life as a music professor. His stable, anonymous (debatable now), Katsuki free, happy life.
So, Katsuki banged on his drums, sang his voice raw, and wrote and wrote and raged. With some grumbling sprinkled in when Kirishima told him he wasn’t allowed to touch anything related to producing the tracks. He had to trust them to produce and polish off the rest without him. If Eyebags (Shinso) didn’t make those songs top hits, Katsuki was going to fire him and find a better producer. Shit, he didn’t even know the lyrics to the songs the band wrote on their own without him. Shitty hair and dunce face only gave him the instrumental demos to record to. Claiming asylum (too soon?) on the excuse of “Doctor’s Orders.”
He wasn’t stupid. He knew that they had Deku involved in the process, probably writing in any missing blanks. They wanted to keep him away from that, from him. Spare him the pain or some sappy shit like that. Katsuki would never let them know he was grateful for it. Despite the scheduling hassle to record the music without the other man present.
To top it off, somehow those idiots managed to negotiate their tour contract to start two weeks after his release. Brilliant fucking idea. Out of drugs and out of practice. And all the mixings of a relapse waiting to happen. The cherry on the cake? Their first venue was the goddamn Madison Square Garden.
He set the paper down and stood up, pacing the room, mock playing imaginary drums as he spun his sticks. His muscles settling back into memory of the motions. The first song wasn’t one he wrote, but he knew the tune. Plus, he was good at improvising. Fuck it. All or nothing. Go big or go home.
Katsuki inhaled deeply and pulled his tank back over his head, cringing at the slight dampness.
The memory came unbidden.
Izuku in a rumpled oversized t-shirt hanging off his shoulders, pulling his black tank down over a pliant, spent Katsuki, a devilish smirk on his pink lips as he kissed along Katsuki’s sweaty collar bone. “Round two in five?”
A sharp knock on the door jerked Katsuki from the image. “Kats! Bro, you in there?”
“Where else would I be, hair for brains?! The fuck you want?” Katsuki snapped, yanking the door open to reveal Eijiro. His hair was freshly dyed red, no more black roots, and slicked in gel for his signature style. He was shirtless save for a black leather cropped vest that was left open. Chains hung from various points on the garment. His leather pants hung low on his hips with a red belt with an R clasp. Homage to his fan’s nickname for him, Red Riot. All the extras called him a heartthrob. Yeah, right.
“The fuck, you rob a dungeon?” Katsuki raised a pointed brow. “Where’s the whip to those dumbass chains?”
“Hey, I thought it looked good!” Kirishima protested with a whine.
“Hm. Gay.” Katsuki flicked a chain that hung suspiciously close to Ei’s crotch, snorting at the yelp that resulted.
“Yeah, that would be you, actually. Mina likes it!” Kirishima took a protective step backwards.
“Gag. Assuming she has the fuzzy cuffs to pair with all this?” Katsuki gestured vaguely to all of Kirishima. “Pinky has the same fashion sense of an alien’s first day out on earth. Now, what do you want?” Katsuki drummed his sticks on the guitarist’s forehead to get him back on track when he tried to argue, actively counting backwards from 10 to remain calm. A habit newly formed from his stupid therapist.
“We’re on in ten.” Kirishima stepped aside as they began walking towards the backstage area.
“In addition to shit fashion, she also has you doing her job as well? Some manager. Tell her she’s fired.”
“Come on man, you know she’s getting everything else ready.” Eijiro shook his head with a chuckle, knowing full well that Katsuki didn’t mean it. Mina has been with them since day one. They probably wouldn’t be here today if she hadn’t been. He could admit that. “Anyway, I wanted to get ya. To make sure…” The redhead trailed off.
Katsuki stopped in the middle of the hall and curled his fingers into fists. “I’m fine. Mind your own damn business.” He hissed.
Kirishima’s brows pinched together as he looked down at Katsuki, who was a full 6 inches shorter than him. “Yeah but, Iz—”
“But Deku nothing! It’s not my first show, I’ll be fine.” Katsuki cut him off. “I know, Deku’s gone. He’s not here! You think I’m gonna slip? Is that it?!” His breath was coming faster again as he stepped closer to Kirishima, face in a snarl. He’d always been the more aggressive of the two, the first to anger and first to throw a punch. Though Kirishima was one of the few who could take a punch from Katsuki and therefore never left him alone after they first met, the big dumb idiot. He grabbed the leather vest by the collar. “And why would he be here? Hah? Why?! I know what I did. Okay? I know! You don’t need to remind me!”
Eijiro raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Okay bro! I’m sorry! I just wanted to make sure you’re alright. And that you were ready. Jeez, man.” Concern bled through the larger man’s eyes and Katsuki hated himself for it. He stepped away with a shove.
Sorry.
Sorry.
Sorry.
He wished he could erase that word from his memory.
“Just… don’t talk about Izuku. Please.” He turned away quickly to hide the moisture building in his eyes. He wasn’t going to fucking cry. Again.
“Yeah, sure bro.” Kirishima was quiet after that.
They came up to the backstage area, where the stage crew roadies, interns, sound engineers and light techs were rushing around thanks to a very commanding Mina spewing orders at 100 miles per hour. Denki was warming up on his electric guitar and Sero was fiddling with his keyboard station and turn tables. Kirishima stepped away with a pat on the shoulder to grab his bass and strum a few chords.
Twirling his drumsticks again, Katsuki cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders. He swung his arms around, loosening the muscles that had tightened on the walk over.
“Kats, sweetie, there you are!” Mina rushed over upon spotting him. Katsuki grunted in acknowledgement. His cheery demeanor clearly had no effect as she wrapped her arms around him in a brief hug. “It’s good to see you. You look good.” She said softly, sincerely. He met her gaze. It wasn’t of pity, but fondness and understanding. Katsuki offered a twitch of a smile and a nod. She smiled.
“You ready?” She asked.
“Shitty hair first, now you too Pinky? You should know better than that.” Katsuki muttered.
Mina pursed her lips and puffed out her cheeks with a heavy breath. All business. “Oi, smartass. Okay then, tits up! You know the set list, but there’s one out there in front of you just in case. Hey, pay attention! You’ll be first on. At the que the platform will raise with you on it, I expect a show. Alright? Shinso said sound check should still be good from yesterday. Here’s your earpiece. Mic. Shot of fireball.”
Katsuki glared at her.
“Ha! Just making sure. Good luck out there hun!” She winked and whisked away, leaving Katsuki to put his earpiece in and adjust his mic. Nothing he hasn’t done a million damn times before. He tried not to think about the fact that he’ll be performing their—Deku’s songs on stage tonight. But Deku wouldn’t be here. Kirishima said he’d take over vocals, and Katsuki would turn over in his grave before admitting he was relieved to hear that piece of information.
Kirishima, Denki, and Sero all came to gather around Katsuki. It hit Katsuki that this would be the first time they would be playing together as a band since before the incident, nearly a year ago in this very city. The incident where he fell from grace and from Izuku and into a white walled sobriety prison. Karma really was a poetic bitch.
Kirishima looked expectantly at him, while Sero leaned back with his hands behind his head, and Denki found the ground a really fucking fascinating place to stare at. Katsuki realized they were waiting on him. To say something. To do anything. This was his band, his show, his comeback. It was his turn now.
He swallowed, feeling his face morph into a cocksure smirk as he crossed his arms. He didn’t know what else to do—how else to go forward. “Wipe those looks off your ugly mugs, we got a show to do losers.” He snipped. Kirishima snorted, hiding a laugh. Sero shook his head with a toothy smile and went in for a fist bump while Kaminari looked up in relief.
“Ugh! Man, that was awkward, please, please don’t do it again. But, glad you’re back Bakubro.” Denki smiled and gave him a thumbs up.
“Shut up, Dunce face.”
“Always short, sweet, and to the point, aren’t you?” Kirishima clapped him on the back a little too hard.
Sero laughed while Denki grumbled. “And I don’t know why I missed him again.”
“Don’t make me look stupid up there. Let’s wrap it up. Ei, you’re good for vocals still?” Katsuki barked the orders with little bite.
“Yeah dude, I’m locked in. Been practicing at the booth, unlike you.” Eijiro chuckled when Katsuki flipped him off. Dumb Hair knew damn well his time was restricted outside of the facility until now.
“Fuck you, I don’t need it anyway.”
They nodded and parted, going to their respectful places for the big entrance. The energy of the air around them rising to an electric crackle.
Katsuki could hear them now. The crowd going wild as the stage crew finished setting up. The inevitable hush that happens backstage as the stadium rumbles with thousands of bodies. His leg starts to bounce when he sits on his stool behind his drums, a recent development. He needs to fix that shit. He knows what to expect, it shouldn’t be any different from his other shows, despite going in semi blind thanks to the four idiots lack of ability to plan appropriately.
And yet. Everything is different. There’s a missing piece. Part of his music’s soul is halfway around the country in a stuffy lecture room surrounded by brats that don’t know how to read a note.
Katsuki takes a breath and wills his nerves to calm, forcing his bouncing leg to still and go to the bass pedal. He looks over at Mina who nods and counts down from 3 on her hand. Lights.
The arena goes dark and the crowd erupts. The vibrations reach his feet on the platform. Camera.
He raises his drumsticks in an X above his head as Denki strikes a chord and carries it out, teasing the masses. Fucking. Action.
The platform he and his drums are on begins to rise. The smoke machines go off. Blue lights and red lasers circle the stage as Katsuki emerges to the screams of the arena. He could pick out their fan names between the deafening thunder. Chargebolt! Celophane! (We love you!) Red Riot!
DY-NA-MIGHT! DY-NA-MIGHT!
Above the rabid fans calling to their fantasies personified, their band name (his name) rose above it all. They were hungry for his return to the spotlight. Hungry for a victory. He would give them one.
DE-KU! DEKU!
The booming in his ears cut out in a breath.
No, please. Not Deku.
WONDER DUO!
Don’t those assholes know he’s not here?
Don’t say that name. Please.
Swan dive.
Swan dive.
Out of my life.
Die.
Sorry.
Katsuki squeezes his eyes shut, blocking out the crowd. The signs they hold that flash in the swarm, reminding him of his pain. He can’t do this. He’s not ready.
No, no, no.
He prepares to stand from his bench, needing to leave. Needing to escape. Needing air.
No, no. Fuck.
Kaminari extends another chord, with a few notes from Kirishima and Sero pitching in, building the suspense. Katsuki’s body is forced to a freeze. Eyes wide as he searches the crowd, lights shining in his eyes. His escape cut off as the platform grinds to a halt and the smoke machines kick on. Searching, searching but not finding what—who he’s looking for.
No.
What the fuck was wrong with him? He needed to calm down. Deku isn’t here, and he has a show to do.
Calm down.
Katsuki takes a moment to find the set list and read the first title again. He goes over the melody in his head. Deep breaths.
Calm down.
New song. But he knows it well enough. It’s the most recent addition to the album. It’ll be the first time he’s hearing it entirely, but this wouldn’t be the first time he’s improvised on the spot. He’s a goddamn professional Rockstar for fuck sake.
Calm down.
He registers Kirishima nodding at him with a sharp grin as he pics up the mic and starts the first notes of the song. Fans go insane when they realize Red Riot is leading vocals once again. He sits back on his stool. Da-da-da---
Calm down. Shit.
“Some legends are told, some turn to dust or to gold.
But you will remember me.
Remember me for centuries!”
I’m sorry.
Kacchan.
Calm—
Fuck that.
The band explodes onto the stage as sparks fly from the sides near the scaffolding. The stadium booms and his body moves without thinking. His sticks strike the drums as he launches into the fray. Like hell he was going to need rescuing from these idiots.
The lights rapidly phased into reds and oranges as the world narrowed down to his drumsticks and the smooth black surface of his set. His foot kept the beat on the pedal as Kirishima led them into the bridge and Katsuki raised his arms to the crowd, encouraging them to join in.
Time seemed to hold its breath as he felt his body go lax. Sweat trailed down his neck. Lost in the sea of sound, Katsuki let himself come home, to his band, his music, his life.
Kirishima finished the second song with a flourish as the stadium cheered, not one to open their shows with speeches until they’ve had a taste. “What’s up MSG, how you doin’ tonight?!” Applause mixed in with the cheer. “That’s what I thought, we’re back baby!”
Ei knew how to work the crowd. Katsuki resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the cliché of it all. For once, he didn’t mind being in the back, out of the scrutiny of the fans. If only so they wouldn’t see how his hands still shook (with adrenaline, obviously).
Sero and Denki waved to the people as Kiri continued, with Denki taunting the crowd with a few chords from his electric lead. “Yeah, yeah we missed y’all too. Alright, I don’t wanna drag this on, but I got a few things to say before we get this show started.”
The redhead paused, looking back at him, eyes flashing with something Katsuki couldn’t place. Whatever, the lights were shining in his eyes anyway, and he wasn’t about to go blind over being sentimental with the big red giant.
“I know you know the rumors, and some things don’t quite look the same as when we left. But I just want to take a minute to welcome my brother Katsuki back to the stage with us. It’s been a hell of a road for us!” The crowd extended their cheers for him, and knowing his role well, Katsuki raised his fist in acknowledgement and twirled his drumsticks twice. “Anyway, we’ve been working on some new stuff and want to share it with you guys tonight for the first time!” Now that got them riled up, with the official confirmation of new music for an album. “That’s right. Now Deku can’t make it right now, but to make up for that we have a special surprise planned for our first show this tour that the boys and I are really looking forward to. I hope you guys enjoy it! Let’s get this shit started!”
Surprise? That was news to him. Katsuki could hear the confusion and excitement ripple through the crowd echoing his own thoughts. He spotted Denki winking at the other men then looking sheepish as the crowd ‘caught’ him in the act.
Ah, they meant the new song. It wasn’t that big of a surprise, each one of them had written and sung their own songs, though it was normally Ei, Deku, or him that took up lead vocals and a majority of what they put out. Kirishima abruptly turned towards him and the others with a thumbs up, mouthing the words ‘ok let’s go.’
That was his que as he turned on his mic and took up a count as he tried to ignore the funny feeling in his stomach. Swallowing the lump in his throat, closed his eyes and recalled his own words put to paper.
The crowd goes feral as the spotlight picks up on him and the first words slip through his lips. His voice coming out relatively tame at first before a wave of anger, and a stab of shame roll through him.
“I’m six feet under.
Like I’m buried alive.
We’re so game over, but we keep holding the line.”
“You fight me, and I fight back, and when you come back,
We get up and we do it again.”
He recalls the fight. All the fights. The loud ones left him in a self-destructive rage, while the quiet ones, those damn near stopped his heart. They were all the same in the end.
The shouted words meant to raze the inside of themselves like the bottle shards did to their hands and knees. The blood in the sink and the slamming of doors. The cigarettes still smoldering next to the needles. They could write all the songs in the world, tearing out their souls but could never use those words to staunch the wounds as they opened.
Katsuki could hear the door to the hotel suite close with a harsh slam. He blinked up at the swirling ceiling as he took another drag, the smoke adding to the hazy cloud in the room already. Someone was dragging their fingers through his hair, their skin hot underneath him and entirely too foreign and smooth. Deku’s hands always felt good in his hair.
He forced his head to roll, sliding his eyes to the person still standing by the door. Izuku’s freckles were so beautiful. Always beautiful. Like stars. Far away. So far…miles away, why were they all the way over there?
Somehow, he managed to roll away from the imposter playing with his hair, nausea rising. He tried to call out to Izuku, but his lips couldn’t grasp the shape of his name. And then the whiskey bottle that was tightly clasped in his hand was ripped from him and he lurched forward, bracing himself on the glass coffee table where discarded needles lay. His numb fingers dropped the cigarette as the fog in his head slowed him down like molasses.
His crimson eyes couldn’t quite decipher the half-naked bodies lying on the floor around him, the discarded… well everything. Foreign limbs splayed everywhere. The suite was a disaster, smelled of something foul and his body felt grossly sticky. Fuck fuck fuck. He looked down, a knot unclenching in his stomach when he saw he still had his pants on. And one shoe?
A glass of water was placed in front of his face and Katsuki jerked his eyes up to the resigned expression on Izuku’s face. His brows pinched in a concoction of fury, betrayal, and sorrow.
Katsuki braced himself for the lecture, the inevitable disappointment that left him needing to crawl out of his skin. That was the only thing he ever received from Izuku now. He could feel him looking down on him, judging, pitying, like he was some weakling that needed to be saved. Well, he was just fine, damn it!
“Kacchan…” a deep sigh punched right through Katsuki’s chest, leaving him feeling… afraid? No. Of pathetic, useless, stupid, amazing, beautiful Izuku? Who did the nerd think he is? He wasn’t afraid of anything. That thought made him angry. He was always angry these days.
“Don’t fuckin start, Deku.” Katsuki growled as his hand knocked the glass of water over, spilling onto the carpet.
“Wha—K-Kacchan, I’m not—fuck it…Fine. I won’t. For the record, I haven’t started anything, that’s all you. It’s always you! You can’t be bothered to care about anything other than you! And you know what? I’m sick and tired of your shit! Dealing with it, picking it up, trying to hide it all for you. I’m done!” Izuku’s smooth voice rose and cracked as he made his way back to the door. “This has to stop, you need help, Kacchan. Let me help you.”
Katsuki felt like he was swimming in cement, clawing for a breath that was just out of reach. He felt like he was being buried alive with a sick guilt that he didn’t know how to get rid of.
Wait. He didn’t want Izuku to leave. But the shame burned hotter than the admission and so he pushed back. And got nasty. “Fuck you, I’m better than ever. I don’t need help! Give me a goddamn break, don’t you think I deserve it? I’m the one picking up your slack during our shows. I’m the one who’s always in front of the mob, carrying you and everyone else’s crap. I’ve earned this, get off my dick about it.” He saw Izuku reach the door to the room and rest a hand on the knob. So far away. A spike of panic cut through him. “But yeah, run away, just like you always do! Coward! You say you’re done, yet you always come crawling back for more so what does that make you, loser? Stop treating me like—”
“Like I love you?! Yeah. Okay Kacchan. I’ll stop. I can’t see you like this anymore.” And Izuku left.
Katsuki fell over the edge of the grave he dug himself.
His chest heaved as he choked out the end of the song. Kirishima immediately picking up the next, not giving him a chance to think too hard. To break. This was going to be harder than he thought. What he wouldn’t give for a cure in a bottle. Something to drown in besides Izuku. He let muscle memory take over as he reigned in his thoughts.
Tap. Bang.
Tap tap, bang.
He focused on the movement of his hands, finding solace in hitting the material of the drums. It was better than giving into his urge to punch something like he used to. He would rather channel his energy into his music and being the best at that. Even without Izuku there. Even if it was pointless now without Izuku there to drive him forward. To chase their dream together. At least he still had his music, if not his muse.
All too quickly, Kirishima finished his songs and the crowd cheered. The lights changed and shimmered on the stage as they bled into the shadows. Katsuki’s heart skipped every time his eyes landed on a DEKU merch hoodie or sign in the crowd.
Two more songs. He had to get through these next two and the band would take over for a while after that so he could piece his heart back together for the rest of the show. A quick sip of water kept the cotton mouth at bay, and he flourished his drum sticks as Sero set up the next tune. Why they insisted on this order of songs was beyond him, but Katsuki supposed it was better to get the worst out of the way first.
Katsuki’s gut flipped as Kirishima gave him a nod. His cue was coming up. Dry lips parted and—Katsuki missed his cue.
How?
His throat closed up as his hands stilled and the boys all looked at him, trying to cover for his slip, a mix of concern and confusion on their faces.
He couldn’t do it. Couldn’t spill his entire heart out in front of thousands. These songs were never meant to see the light of day. He had written them in his loony toon room, ripping himself to shreds as he did so. They were for Izuku’s eyes and ears only. The only person he’d wanted to sing them to.
…No, they weren’t. They were for him, and everything he needed to say, to scream.
The crowd started to quiet and a warm palm on his shaking hand brought Katsuki back into focus. Katsuki felt his lip tremble as he met Eijiro’s stare. An encouraging bump to his shoulder shook him. He cleared his throat.
“Fuck.” He huffed, his heart trying to leap from his ribcage. “This one’s for me, the next one’s for you.” He muttered under his breath before flipping on his mic again. How dare he? Even now, Izuku was fucking everything up. Katsuki wanted to rage. That was what he knew how to do. He wanted to scream at everyone. Scream until his throat bled and his lungs collapsed. He wanted to throw something, pick a fight, claw at his brain until the images of emerald eyes and freckled skin were purged from his memory.
He left him.
Izuku left him.
He didn’t miss his cue this time. The drums shook and rattled around him as he ripped the words from his chest, his voice straining in a key he never sang in front of anyone before. Except…
“How do you do that?”
“Do what?” Izuku hummed as he bit the eraser of a pencil, focused on the notebook in front of him where he was jotting down lyrics.
“That thing with your voice. The cracks, the pitch, growl, all of it.” Katsuki studied the siren from where his head rested on folded arms. His eyes staring unfocused at a scar on Izuku’s hand from his spot on the couch.
Izuku glanced up, tapping the pencil against his chin, not even realizing how melodic his voice was when he spoke, as if trying to imitate what Katsuki was asking without full on singing so he didn’t disturb the neighbors. “I guess, I was just imitating you, Kacchan.. but my voice has a different range from yours so I had to change the key…” He began to mutter.
“Teach me.” Katsuki stopped him there. He didn’t need the lessons, per say, he had a decent vocal range as well that was known for its deeper raspy qualities, but he wanted the excuse to spend some more time at Izuku’s flat… on his couch… in his bed.
“Well, you’ll need to register for Music Theory 202 for that.”
“You jackass. Thought this whole partner thing came with special privileges?” A soft kiss to green curls.
A light laugh responded. “Fair point. Alright. I’ll teach you the key changes if you teach me how to scream.”
“Oh, I can give you a reason to scream, Deku.” His voice dropped into a satisfied purr, one finger tracing the edge of Izuku’s t-shirt collar. Oh, how he enjoyed watching the professor squirm.
“K-Kacchan! That’s not—I meant the dirty vocals--!” Izuku’s shoulders flew up to his ears in an attempt to block Katsuki’s incriminating fingers.
“Mm, yeah, can’t wait to hear those dirty vocals alright.” He chuckled, trapping a thick thigh under his weight as Izuku squeaked and tried to escape, resulting in a stumbling tangle of limbs beside the couch.
“Kacchan, you know what I meant! I’m— I’m trying to work! Ah!”
They didn’t make it to the bedroom.
Katsuki took a sharp breath, a guttural sound coming from deep in his throat. His mind going back to every terrible memory he’d already lived through a thousand times at the institution like a movie on repeat.
Kirishima’s red hair stood out among the sterile white walls of his institution room. He’d brought his guitar, after the staff had deemed that acceptable. They had been working out the riffs to some of the new songs.
“Has there been anything?” Katsuki asked when Eijirou was plucking some strings with a look of concentration on his face.
Surprise, then guilt flitted in quick succession across the redhead’s expression. “Sorry man, last I heard, he went back to teaching… we haven’t seen him in weeks.
“Did he ask—” Katsuki began but cut himself off quickly at the awkward shift in Kiri’s body as he shook his head.
Deku wasn’t interested in talking to him. Not after everything. Afterall, that’s what Katsuki asked for as he kept pushing the other man away. “Nevermind,” He muttered, rubbing at his chest to dissipate the lonely feeling that settled there.
“Was I not good enough? Worthy of being loved?
Were you ashamed or just afraid?
Well, when I have given up and all is said and done,
Will you just look the other way?
I waited but nobody called,
I waited for nothing at all!”
He lost himself in the music, feeling his chest tighten with every high note and shudder with every low. He felt like he was at war with himself, sinking further down, down, down into the trenches. In what world would he ever be good enough? Not this one, he was always going to come up short and second. Why? Why? Why wasn’t he—
Denki riffed into the next bridge of his second song, and Katsuki’s voice felt raw. His skin prickled with sweat, and he felt his face screw up in a terrible, vicious sneer.
“The fuck are you doing, Deku? Going back to see him, are you serious?!”
“Kacchan, it isn’t what it seems—”
“It seems like my boyfriend is going around to another man’s arms behind my back!” Katsuki grabbed Izuku’s wrist in a bruising grip.
“No! What are you talking about? He’s the head of the label—This was a business meeting!” Izuku flinched as Katsuki crowded into his space with a snarl.
“Sure as hell looked like a pretty cozy business meeting, Deku.” He threw Izuku’s arm to the side, accidentally dropping his beer bottle on the ground in the process. It shattered between them.
“Kacchan!” Izuku made to kneel to clean up the mess, but Katsuki pinned him against the dining table.
“I don’t want you going near him again, you understand? I don’t need his help. I sure as hell don’t need your meddling.” He leaned in close, nuzzling the shell of Izuku’s ear. “I will fuckin kill him if I see you near him again, you got that? You’re mine.” He hissed. Jealousy was an ugly thing on him.
Hours later, when they were sweaty and tangled in the sheets, Katsuki traced the freckles on Izuku’s cheeks, sick to his stomach. Hating himself for how beautiful he found the salty tracks of tears on the other man, how covetous he felt, how angry, how out of control. He traced the purple bruises sucked into Izuku’s neck, chest, and thighs, promising silently to apologize and make up for it tomorrow. Needing to earn the man’s forgiveness at his absolute brutish behavior. The beast within him always seemed to rear its head again around Izuku.
Izuku always forgave him too quickly, deep down Katsuki knew that it was too quick. Izuku knew the blond had his own issues to work through, and that he didn’t mean half the things he said in anger. His bleeding heart quick to sympathize and forgive without consequence.
But Katsuki knew, deep down he did mean it. Deep down, it was him against the world, and always had been, so he didn’t give it the chance to hurt him in the first place. He always hurt it first, and made sure it stayed that way, at arm’s length.
But Izuku wasn’t the enemy, and deep down or subconsciously, Katsuki knew that too. He just always seemed unlucky enough to get caught up in Katsuki’s crossfire. So, he feathered soft makeup kisses across a sleeping, thoroughly fucked, Izuku and promised to try again tomorrow in another life.
“And I hate that I made you the enemy, and I hate that your heart was the casualty!”
Now I hate that I need you.”
But, he didn’t. There wasn’t anything on this fucked up earth that could ever make Katsuki hate Izuku like he hated himself. He squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he could take back every horrible, twisted word he said to Izuku. His arms flew down, snapping a drum stick in half, his throat bobbing as he ground out the last lyrics.
His eyes stung as the band took a short break, Sero and Denki staying out on stage to keep the crowd entertained. Katsuki abandoning his broken drum sticks and nearly scrambled off stage to compose himself before the next short set.
He snatched a new pair of sticks from a poor intern as another pair of hands wiped the sweat off his shoulders and brow. It probably took all of two minutes to be wiped down, hydrated, black face paint smeared on his eyes again, and shoved back toward the stage. Goddamn it, there really was no rest for the wicked apparently.
All he wanted to do was curl up under the covers of his bed and weep. The high from playing quickly fading. Who knew spilling your guts out in front of thousands of people would drain every last ounce of your energy?
Deku did. Somehow, despite writing and performing the most ‘heart on your sleeve’ songs Katsuki had ever had the honor of hearing… helping with, Deku always managed to give everyone exactly what they wanted with a fearless, gorgeous smile. And he certainly always gave Katsuki what his depraved soul craved. It was those moments, stolen, between shows and between breaths where Katsuki felt alive. Jumping into the abyss with Izuku among the roaring of the crowds and the private sunbeams of their apartment, always circling each other, chasing, and colliding with each other.
A deep thunder took up the stadium as he came back to his set, Kirishima clapping him on the shoulder. Katsuki didn’t even realize he’d left the stage with him. The larger man waved to the fans, adjusting his guitar.
He glanced down at the set list. Recalling the next songs from the studio. They weren’t his. They were Izuku’s, or so Eijiro told him. Deku had stayed with the band after Katsuki was committed to rehab just long enough to finish out his contract for one more album. Ei didn’t go into too much detail, probably to spare Katsuki from thinking too much about it. Except it only did the opposite. And Katsuki spent countless nights staring at the ceiling, picturing Izuku holed up in the studio. Picturing him hunched over his stupid yellow notebook with his tongue slightly poking out and a frown on his face as he pieced together lyrics to music. About them. About him.
Fuck, what would he say now?
Probably nothing good.
And Katsuki was about to hear all of it whether he liked it or not.
The lights abruptly cut out and all Katsuki could hear was his harsh breathing as his leg bounced in anticipation. He banged out a three second riff on the drums in an effort to hide his nerves. He was not ready for this part. The seconds ticked by. Kirishima adjusted the mic at the stand. People screamed. Green floor lights lit up and cast long shadows across the stage.
Katsuki scowled as he forced himself to breathe through his nose. As if hearing the heartbroken lyrics Izuku wrote for this album weren’t enough. He told those morons he didn’t want any green for this show. He glared out at where Shinso was operating the sound booth, speaking into a headset, and catching the echo of a shit-eating Cheshire grin on his face. That motherfuc—
“Wave after wave, no change in my faith.
I’m here for you through high or low.”
Katsuki froze. He’d recognize that voice anywhere. In any crowd, in any breath, in any life, he’d recognize that voice. He whipped his head around, eyes wide, searching, searching, searching. This had to be a dream, a trick of his traitorous mind. Deku was all the way across the country, probably teaching Music History 101 or some shit to some snot nosed kids barely old enough to drive. He was long gone months ago.
“Every time our earth shakes, I’ll fight through the pain.” It was like someone had thrown a bucket of ice water on him. The cool voice enveloping his skin in a soothing embrace as it seemed to surround him.
There was a movement from the crowd below, Katsuki stretched to see what it was, refusing to acknowledge the little flutter in his chest. And then he was there.
Izuku. His Izuku.
Like a punch to the gut, meeting his bewildered stare with a fiery determination. He pulled the hood of his sweatshirt, white with his green bunny symbol on it and their orange band logo X over it, back to reveal his face. Like an angel come down from heaven.
“I’ll die before I ever let you go.”
Katsuki’s brain was playing tricks on him again. It had to be. He didn’t take his eyes off Izuku, his gaze zeroing in on the slight quirk of the other man’s lips and self-satisfied tilt of his head as he stared back. As if daring Katsuki to move, to challenge him, to do something.
Denki, Kiri and Sero took up the opening chords and jolted him from his shock just in time for him to catch the drop. Katsuki’s heart stuttered, and his stomach flipped as his hands flew over the drums.
His hair’s longer. The observation rattled around in Katsuki’s brain as he watched Izuku’s smile widen slightly as Katsuki met him halfway. The singer turned toward the crowd, both hands gripping the mic close to his lips as he continued the verse as if nothing in the world was wrong.
But it was. Everything was wrong. Izuku’s hair was longer, pulled half up while the rest of his curls barely brushed his shoulders. And somehow, his thighs – oh those delicious thighs – had gotten thicker. The ripped jeans nearly clung to Izuku’s sturdy legs like a second skin. His jaw seemed sharper as Katsuki focused on the muscle feathering there while Izuku sang. His beautiful, angelic voice urging him to move. To follow through his hands and into the sticks flipping through his fingers down to his feet pressing on the pedals. A vein stood out on Izuku’s freckled neck as his throat bobbed and he traversed over the stage, following the beat Katsuki set, a perfect push and pull between them.
Every time Izuku turned, Katsuki tracked it and felt his throat tighten whenever he happened to divert his attention from the crowd, extending his hand at one point towards him before ripping it away to clutch at his shirt and shut his eyes, screaming out a lyric Katsuki barely heard. As a matter of fact, Katsuki didn’t think he processed a single word, in awe of the fact that he was here. Izuku was here. He was here with him.
An angry rasp had entered Izuku’s tone, drawing Katsuki’s fixation as their eyes met, and for a brief moment in time, it was just the two of them on that stage and in that arena. Just the two of them caught in a whirlpool of words unspoken.
The green haired nerd jumped around to each of the band members, gleeful grins stretched across their faces as they fed off each other like they had at so many past shows. Driving the ebb and flow of the crowd with every interaction. And then Izuku was singing directly to him, challenge in his stare and underneath it an apology displayed on his softer features, pleading for Katsuki to listen.
Katsuki always took the bait, rising to the challenge. He translated it to his hands and each smack of his sticks. And then Izuku paused for a breathless moment before doubling over to belt out the last chorus that left Katsuki shell shocked with his ears ringing.
The stadium erupted into a roiling mass of noise, like some beast sprung up from hell. Izuku spared him one last look as Katsuki nearly bolted from his stool to embrace the singer. He pulled up short when he saw one hand raised in a subtle gesture telling him to stay where he was, jade eyes conveying what Izuku couldn’t say into the microphone: ‘Later. I promise.’ Katsuki nearly recoiled in his seat with a barely contained outburst. The fucking audacity of this nerd… after all this time. He wasn’t going to let Katsuki go to him? He was dangling all his deepest desires in front of him with no intention of letting Katsuki get a taste. No, it was Katsuki’s fate to suffer a little bit longer where Izuku was concerned. Count backwards from 10… make it 100.
“What’s up New York!” He clipped the mic into a second stand at center stage as Katsuki scowled and twisted his grip around his drumsticks, clenching his teeth. The shaking was back.
Those fuckers. He was going to kill whoever came up with this idea. He watched Izuku’s back as he smiled bashfully at the crowd. “Surprise. Heh. Sorry I’m late.”
Izuku paused a moment, glancing down at the set list before nodding to Kirishima, a few hushed words passing between them. Izuku huffed a soft laugh into the mic as some rowdy fans screamed profanities and praise up at them. “Yeah, let’s keep this shit going.” Izuku agreed, and that’s all that was needed before the notes started up from Sero on the sound board, picking up the next song.
Katsuki bit his lip, instantly recognizing it as a song they had been working on before everything went to shit and Izuku left. It wasn’t on the set list. Fine, if Izuku wanted to play it this way, then he’d go along with the little game. He was a professional damn it! He could hold it together for a few more shitty ass songs. (Even though he felt his eyes burning with something that most certainly was NOT tears. He was a pot about to boil over.) But Izuku had another thing coming if he thought they weren’t gonna talk after the show.
Katsuki felt itchy in his own skin, taking up the beat as Izuku sang out to the crowd, concentration pulling his brows taught as his voice rose to the high notes. Katsuki flipped on his own mic, chiming in for his vocal parts, lending a few dirty chords and screams to the intoxicating mix.
His blood seemed to hum and vibrate within him as they played off each other like it was second nature. Izuku, peeling back each layer, knowing exactly when to build up to Katsuki pouring all his rage into the mic before bringing him back down again.
Izuku swayed to the music, building up his energy and occasionally going down to greet the front row fans, letting them grasp at his hand before sweeping himself away again from the chaotic energy. He was always better at that than Katsuki, who preferred to beat his energy into the snare and bass. People touching him was always a no-go ever since he was a shithead toddler.
Not Izuku though, he seemed to thrive on the adrenaline rush that came with being the front man. The song ended abruptly with Katsuki panting as he fished for his water underneath his stool. He’d barely gotten a drink before Izuku mouthed something again to the boys with a smirk and they nodded, the next song picking up. Another that Katsuki and Izuku were working on before he went to rehab. Again, a deviation from the plan, putting Katsuki through his paces. Cheeky bastard.
The song was written after a particularly bad night that ended with Katsuki and Izuku shitfaced, a yelling match, the plaster wall of his kitchen destroyed, and a lot of sloppy, angry makeup sex. It was a bit of an accident, when Izuku was playing with lyrics in the studio and Katsuki found him, still angry about the previous night. They ended up taking out their frustrations in the soundproof booth… and on the floor… and on the couch.
It was a damn good song.
That little piece of shit. Katsuki jerked himself back to his starting position, finding Izuku’s form in a heartbeat. His vision stared at those stupid red shoes and worked its way up slowly until their eyes met. Izuku lifted his chin a little, the demand clear in his eyes. And who would Katsuki be if he didn’t indulge, meeting the fight head on like always, a familiar feeling settling in his bones.
“I’ve got a lot of bad things on my mind. The simulation crashing by design.
And my mind is dangerous, don’t play with things you don’t
Know, know, know, know.”
Izuku’s clear voice rang out through the speakers as his fingers sinfully flitted up the microphone stand, rocking his hips back and forth in afterthought. Katsuki grit his teeth at the view, finding it all too easy to picture it with a lack of clothes. Not that the jeans left much to the imagination.
Izuku’s verse came to an end and Katsuki took his que to start, his brain scrambling to remember the exact lyrics. God damn Deku, why won’t he just let them have one minute? Katsuki just needed to touch him, once, to make sure he was still there, still real. He needed to put the universe right again. But Deku wasn’t letting him, and he seemed to know it. Katsuki let out a growl of frustration as the words came forth.
“I know you hate to see it but you never wanna talk about it.
And hate yourself a little more when you can’t live without it.
It’s like praying for rain when you’re already drowining.”
He let the anger simmer in his tone, a rough quality coming through as he concentrated on Izuku who was now closer to him, swaying in his movements. He lent a clear echo to the words, harmonizing as a smug grin pulled at the greenie’s lips.
Katsuki curled his lip at the freckled man as they sang together for the first time in a year, letting his disdain for what Izuku was doing leak through. “So go ahead and twist the knife, I can’t feel the damage. Always searching for the high, never kicked the habit. It’s like praying for rain but I’m already drowning.”
Katsuki felt the stage rumble beneath him with the music as Izuku broke away to sweep the crowd into the chorus, his voice seamlessly hitting those beautiful siren notes as he dripped sin all over the stage, face scrunching up in a sort of blissful torture.
And oh, Katsuki knew that face too well. It was the same face Izuku pulled when their fights were coming to an end and they attacked each other with tongue and teeth, or when they stayed up too late in the booth bleeding out their hearts into lyrics and relearning the other to make up for years of history missed, or when he had the shorter man’s legs trembling beneath him as his eyes rolled back in pleasure and a deep flush spread up his chest.
Izuku whipped back to him, picking up the second verse with him with ease as he stood rocking just to the side of his drums, body angled towards the fans but eyes completely on Katsuki as he leaned forward into the mic, nodding along with a ferocious grin. He refused to look at the singer as he felt Izuku orbit around him and jump onto the platform behind Katsuki.
He watched a wave roll through the crowd as people started circling in front of the stage, feeding off their building energy. He felt strong hands slide up his shoulder and nape, before threading through his hair. He didn’t have time to jerk away as scarred fingers gripped him by the root with a sharp tug, eliciting an unintentional snarl from Katsuki’s lips, flashing his teeth in a grimace. His stomach coiled in on itself, a shiver running the length of his spine and ending between his legs where his pants now felt just a little bit tighter. The mild pain quickly morphing into something saccharine. Fffuuuuck him. He silently begged Izuku to pull at his hair again.
He felt hot as their voices twisted and curled around each other, fighting for the upper hand and he let out a roar that led into the chorus once more. The people below writhed as Katsuki built up the bridge of the song. He knew what was about to happen as the masses parted.
“Looking into the abyss, the future is a myth.
I’m holding onto hope, it’s a problem I admit.
The devil is real,
And I’m caught in his grip!”
The hand in his hair migrated to his throat, gripping his jaw lightly as his voice hurtled into the crowd. He felt rather than saw as the mosh pit collided. The band coming together in a headbanging session in front of him and Izuku as his arms slammed on the drums with precision.
Izuku jerked his face up quickly to smash their lips together in an all too angry, too blissful, and too brief kiss. Katsuki so stunned that he nearly dropped his drumsticks. He felt Izuku nip at his lip, a coppery sting forming quickly after. It was all he could do to not moan under Izuku’s touch, releasing a tension in him that he didn’t realize he had.
He felt a thumb brush his jaw gently, reverently, as felt the cold air meet his back once more when Izuku stepped away with a small barely there laugh and continued a refrain. Katsuki swallowed thickly, having no choice but to continue playing out his sweet torture, his vocal chords turning raw.
“I keep staring at the sun, it’s in my blood, I’m headed for disaster.
Burn bridges just for fun, have I gone numb?
It’s a goddamn shame.”
Izuku sang like a fallen angel as he made his way front and center again. His body moving effortlessly with the music, and Katsuki wanted to punch something. Preferably Izuku right now. Fuck it.
The best he could do was scream.
“Goddamn shame!”
Ha. That got a reaction out of the nerd. With his big stupid eyes and his pretty—dumb—freckles.
Izuku’s eyes shone under the stage lights as Katsuki ended the song with a final clash. Katsuki felt a thrill at the expression, having missed it for so long that he was beginning to wonder if it ever existed. The surprise, the awe, the… sorrow?
That wasn’t right. He didn’t have time to question it as Izuku ruthlessly launched the band into the next song. His stage presence working the crowd as he sang so beautifully it broke Katsuki’s heart. Again. And again. Like it always did.
They were back on track for the set list, this song being one Izuku had written apparently, and Katsuki was hearing for its entirety for the first time out of the booth, like the rest of this goddamn circus show.
This was familiar territory, wearing their hearts on their sleeves and in the lyrics of a song. But Katsuki was sick and tired of it. He didn’t want to keep dancing around Izuku through their music, saying everything they can’t and yet having nothing come from it at all. He was exhausted from the war they waged. It was time for them to put forth actual words, knives out and all. He wouldn’t be leaving this arena without ensuring that.
Katsuki sang the next two songs, written in lust and written in anger. Honestly, he didn’t even remember writing them, but the rush that came from performing with Izuku was second to none despite the mix of looks he received, hurt, pride, love, anger, guilt. Katsuki taking out the anger on himself this time, instead of Izuku, and feeling the weight lift off him little by little as he let go. As they both let go.
He felt a genuine smile start to shape his lips as the show went on. He’d removed his shirt at some point, too sweaty to keep on, relishing in the fire that burned through Deku’s gaze when he noticed. Deku copied him shortly after, taking off his hoodie to reveal a white tank that was damn near see through from his sweat. And fuck if Katsuki didn’t want to lick up the abs that the tank hinted at. Trace the dip between Izuku’s pecs that the clothing definitely did nothing to hide. Only that nerd could make the plainest outfit in the world so fucking sinful to look at.
Between the pyrotechnics and the other band members putting on their own show, Katsuki’s eyes remained on Izuku the whole time, familiarizing himself with the little details once more. The semi-fresh scar running down his cheek, the four prominent freckles on each cheek that the stage lights couldn’t ever obscure from him. How his lips quirked up each time they locked gazes, and how he habitually ran thick fingers through curly… longer… hair (released from its tie at some point in the show) whenever he needed to collect himself.
The strings of his body seemed to be plucked to perfection whenever Izuku came his way, feeding and siphoning from his energy. Leaving little featherlight traces of him all around Katsuki whenever he felt Izuku drape himself over his shoulder and his hot breath tickle his ear like no time at all had passed between them. They flowed around each other like water, crashed like fire and melted to form a perfect storm as Izuku’s siren voice swept everyone, including Katsuki, away in the tidal wave.
Mina was brought on as a featured guest in one of the new songs as Deku twirled her around the stage, making the crowd absolutely tweak out like the extras they were. Katsuki felt himself huff a laugh and later watched Denki absolutely come alive with his own new song, Izuku taking up his own guitar and supporting on the sides. Katsuki found himself… having fun again, all the shit that went down before pushed to the back of his mind as his fingers hammered out the beat to each song flawlessly.
“Alright, alright, you know what time it is guys!” Izuku panted into the mic, chuckling at the few boos that came from the stadium as they realized the show was almost over. “Yeah, I know. Tough luck, come see us at another show if you want more.” A saucy wink had the people below laughing. Izuku raised his praise for each member of the band, per usual. “And your favorite angry Pomeranian on the drums, Kacch—Katsuki Bakugo!”
Katsuki nearly choked on his water. Angry what--? He barely remembered to flip off the crowd, an apparently endearing trait their fans had come to love and reciprocate at their concerts. A few wolf whistles met his ear as he glared at Izuku’s back. The shitnerd just had to get a dig in.
“You’ve been great tonight, New York! Remember the new album drops at the end of this tour, Down in Flames!” Two songs left.
And no no, it was too soon. He didn’t want to leave this high just yet. That would mean crashing back to earth and dealing with the fallout between him and Izuku that they’d left off at a year ago. He couldn’t think about that just yet.
The next song was his, a triumphant announcement to the world that he was back and better than ever. He found himself grinning as the stadium picked up the beat with claps and chanting the chorus, his heart feeling lighter than it had in months.
He was home, this was where he belonged with Izuku by his side through it all. His lighthouse in the storm or what have you. (Gross, he was becoming such a sap.)
He drew strength with every smile the band shot his way and felt his stomach fill with butterflies like he was back in fucking middle school whenever Izuku turned away from directing the crowd to beam up at him behind his drums. As the song climbed with Katsuki, Izuku chimed in with a piercing wail, nearly making the blond stutter. Katsuki softened his tone, content to bathe in Izuku’s bright voice until the day he died.
“Yeah I’m back, back, back like a boomerang.” His voice cut out as mini explosions flared up from the edge of the stage.
A shared glance, and shy smile filtered between them as the lights cut out and plunged the arena into darkness. Katsuki tried to slow the rapid rising and falling of his chest as he leaned back from his kit.
A single spotlight opened up on Izuku, now with his acoustic guitar, sitting on a stool with his feet slightly propped up. He reached out and adjusted the mic to where he wanted it, a wobbly smile on his face as he let the noise of the stadium wash over him and eventually quiet.
Izuku let out a breathy sigh, preparing himself for his solo. He leaned forward, pausing for just the briefest of moments with pink lips parted. Katsuki gripped the edge of his own seat, eyes fixated on Izuku’s angelic side profile as he scanned the people below.
“This one’s pretty recent. Um… I’m testing it out tonight. Let me know what you think of it.” Izuku spoke softly, hesitantly into the mic. A soft blush dusted his cheeks as his fingers started strumming the notes with more confidence.
“There are scars that never ever show themselves
You get when you’re left alone too long in hell.”
Izuku’s shaky voice flooded the stadium, clear as a bell and ethereal beyond anything Katsuki’s heard from the man. It’s raw quality more captivating than the siren high notes and sinful growls that normally bring him to his knees when Izuku sings.
As he sang, Katsuki latched onto each sigh into the mic, each sharp intake of air as his voice steadied. They reminded Katsuki of the whispered moments between them, when they were soft and pliant in each other’s arms instead of fighting. The gentle brush of a hand, lips, skin. The knowing smiles and silent strength they each had lent each other in the quiet moments when everything fell easily into place.
Izuku’s head was bowed in concentration, but Katsuki’s eyes raised to the black void beyond him to see a million little phone light stars begin to sway across the floor. His chest constricted painfully, wondering how…
How did he get so lucky? How did he fuck up so bad? How can he put it back together?
“Well if I’m there to catch you when you fall,
You’ll have a friend down in hell after all.
And if you’re there to catch me when I fall,
Then maybe hell ain’t so bad after all.
Build me up or tear me down,
I will never make a sound.
Run a dagger through my chest,
I believe it’s for the best.”
He knew the man was singing to him, just like every other song. They had too much history not to be each other’s muse. But this… this was his, and only his. He longed to leave his seat and crawl to the siren before him, beg and beg and keep begging for forgiveness from the one person in the world who saw and accepted him for him. Scars and all.
Izuku’s soft words cut through the night like velvet and Katsuki wanted nothing more than to live in this moment forever. He wanted the image of Izuku surrounded by stars, eyes closed peacefully as his lips caressed the mic and his hair glistened under the lights, permanently seared into his brain. He wanted to see this image every time he closed his eyes and when he eventually departed from this earth.
Izuku finally looked up, eyes shining as he saw the audience’s response. He finished the song with a trailing note, ending the night with a gentle finality.
After a beat of silence, the arena exploded in a deafening boom. Flashes of cameras flickered throughout the masses as Izuku stood and waved to them. He turned around to Katsuki, face unreadable as Katsuki struggled to figure out how his legs worked again. But all he could focus on was the singer’s lips, forming those same words to him as Katsuki was hauled off to rehab.
I ---e –u.
It was only then that Katsuki had the wits to recognize them. The cement he’d been clawing at and swimming through finally allowed him to breach the surface and take a breath. It hit him like a train, only having heard them once before. In the dark under the blankets as he pretended to sleep. Cursing himself as the coward he was when he didn’t say the words back.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
Izuku didn’t wait for him to re-learn how to walk as he abruptly walked off stage, wiping at his face as he went with a pinched brow, and leaving Katsuki standing in the dark of the stage.
“De-Izuku! Wait!” Katsuki scrambled after him, nearly knocking over the cymbals in his way and Sero in the process.
He was vaguely aware of a chant for an encore performance as panic seized him.
He watched helplessly as Izuku quickly disappeared from view, and made his decision. “Someone get a goddamn piano up on the stage.” He snapped at his bandmates. “And no one leave.”
“Woah man, seriously?” He couldn’t be sure who said it, probably Sero, as Katsuki leapt after Izuku into the dimly lit backstage area.
“A piano?!”
“Go get him, Baku-bro!”
Katsuki searched frantically, finding a head of green curls talking to a pink one. Oh thank whatever fucking gods there were for Mina. Katsuki would need to seriously repay her after this. She held Izuku by the biceps as she spoke to him, a worried look on what Katsuki could see of her face.
“Izuku! Don’t you fucking walk away from me again!” He pushed past a few people who were in his way, nearly knocking into Izuku as the freckled man turned toward him in surprise.
“Kacchan, I—I wasn’t— I didn’t think you’d want--”
“And don’t look so fucking surprised, asshole!” Katsuki grabbed Izuku’s wrist firmly, not intending to let him out of his grasp so easily now. Finally! The contact nearly seared his skin. So similar to how he’d angrily grab at Izuku before. He shoved that thought away. This was different. He was different now. Better. Sober.
“Kacchan, let go—”
“No! Shut the fuck up, Deku. You’re gonna listen to what I have to say whether you want to or not.” He lowered himself a few inches to eye level with Izuku, panting through his nose like an angry bull. This was the only way Katsuki could get what he’s been trying to say for months through Izuku’s THICK ass skull. “You’re gonna listen, and since you can’t seem to comprehend what I’m trying to say any other goddamn way. Now. Come on.”
With an unceremonious yank, Katsuki all but dragged a stuttering Izuku back to the stage, where he saw someone had somehow brought out a grand piano. Where they were hiding that, Katsuki didn’t know and didn’t care. A cheer went through the crowd at his and Izuku’s return, their wish for an encore granted. A rare treat from DYNAMIGHT. Call him the fucking fairy godmother.
“What are you doing?” Izuku questioned as Katsuki lightly pushed him to sit on the piano bench.
“Sit. Stay.” He commanded, not bothering to answer and ignoring the pout that overcame Izuku’s face. Like Izuku was going to one up him at his own comeback show. Fat fucking chance. He snapped over to Kirishima with a gruff, “You know the one.” He was met with a grin full of sharp teeth and a two-finger salute as Kirishima spoke in hushed tones to Denki and Sero before replacing Katsuki’s spot at the drums. Katsuki swatted Sero away as he pulled up a hidden track on his soundboard computer, letting Sero see it as Katsuki walked back to Izuku. He trusted them to get it done.
With a resentful huff, Katsuki sat next to Izuku on the piano bench, pointedly ignoring the way the nerd stared at him with his mouth agape and wide eyes. Truth was, he wasn’t sure if he was going to perform this tonight, in hopes that Izuku was somewhere listening, until now. Katsuki cleared his throat once before shooting a glare at Izuku and laying his fingers on the ivory keys in front of him. Happy now, fucker? You got me. Again.
He swallowed any second thoughts that threatened to derail his mission. With the lightest touch, Katsuki played and watched as Izuku’s eyes got impossibly bigger, pupils dilating to cover the green that Katsuki loved.
He felt a sense of smug pride roll through him as Izuku watched on in shock. He never played the piano in front of anyone. Only once for Izuku, and not including when Kirishima caught him while letting himself into Katsuki’s shitty apartment, when he was first starting to write out the melody for this song after just sending off their debut EP to a bunch of labels. The lyrics were hidden away in a beat-up yellow journal at the back of his closet from years ago in another life entirely.
Everything was happening way too fast for his liking. He didn’t want to do this, sing this song but damn it. This was the only way Katsuki knew Izuku would listen and understand. He knew his words wouldn’t be misunderstood this time. This was the only thing that guaranteed it. That he was actually good at, cause somehow, he always butchered simply talking. He sucked in a lungful of air.
“Kacchan, please it’s okay, you don’t have to—” Izuku started but clamped his jaw shut at the look Katsuki pinned on him. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, mouth twisting into something sour as if he wanted to say more.
You’ve said enough. Heard you loud and clear, Izuku.
He still had his head set on, and switched on the mic once more, his mouth forming around the words that had been held inside his heart for so long. His eyes never left Izuku’s face, completely ignoring the crowd behind him and the band as they took up their positions, ready to help Katsuki serenade his siren.
Watch me, nerd.
Practiced fingers glided over the keys as he sang.
“Just run it back, give me five whole minutes I am
Thick tar on the inside burning.”
He thought back to when he started writing the words spilling from him. Seeing a thirteen-year-old Izuku like a movie running on a loop in his mind. Only this time, it was everything that mattered.
Katsuki kicked the small pebble against the dead-end brick wall, a curse on his lips.
“Kacchan? What are you…?” A small voice behind him called.
Deku. The scrawny little nerd that sat at the front of his class at school. And every other class Katsuki was in since they were still in diapers. They never really talked to each other. Or rather, Katsuki never talked to him. Izuku always found a way to insert himself into Katsuki’s business.
“Go away, Deku. Leave me alone.” He spat over his shoulder, clenching his fists. Silently finding satisfaction in the sharp gasp he heard behind him. That satisfaction quickly turned to a cold stone sinking in his stomach as he realized Izuku could probably see him. The new bruises on his arms peeking out from underneath his ALLMIGHT t-shirt.
“Are you ok? Are you hurt?” He asked, closer now. Katsuki refused to turn around, picking at an old scab on his knuckles from a fight on the school yard with some asshole upperclassmen.
A soft touch on his shoulder had him whirling, smacking the hand away harshly. “I’m fine! I said leave me alone!” He shouted at a cowering wide eyed Izuku. Immediately he regretted it. Sweet Izuku, who could never hurt a fly and never seemed to leave him alone no matter how mean he got. He looked away in burning shame. “The old hag’s drinking again.” He muttered bitterly by way of explanation. Not that Izuku knew what his mother or his home was like. “I can’t go home.”
There was a long pause and he saw Izuku’s dumb red shoes shuffle in front of him. “You can come home with me.” A squeaky voice suggested.
He’d never forget that moment as he let the little dork lead him to his mom’s decrepit looking apartment building on the east side of town. A cushioned bed and a hot meal were the last thing he’d expected tonight. The comforter was nearly in tatters and the color had faded, but he didn’t pay much attention to that as he and Izuku giggled under the covers over something stupid. He’d never tell anyone that was the first bit of comfort he’d had in years, and he cradled that feeling to his heart every night thereafter.
When he left to go back to his mom’s trailer the next morning, he stood on the sidewalk stunned as auntie Inko and Izuku waived to him with smiles. “Call us when you get home safe ok, Katsuki?” No one ever said that to him. No one cared to. He was trailer park trash in a huge cutthroat city, who would care?
Katsuki never called, the walls too thin in their trailer for him to risk waking his mother in the back room. The space too crowded to even breathe loudly. He stared at the landline phone for hours until the sun sank in the sky and the moon with all its stars took its place.
“Just running forwards, a life like wires
As I see the past on an empty ceiling.”
It was Christmas morning. His mom was still out at the bar… or wherever she was. Katsuki pulled the layered hoodies tighter over himself, clenching his teeth to keep from chattering. The holes in his sleeves doing nothing to keep out the cold. “What do you mean you’re leaving?”
They sat on the swings in the community park. Izuku had given him a small ALLMIGHT yellow notebook, and a brand-new pair of drum sticks for Christmas. He apologized, claiming that was all he could afford. Katsuki’s heart had nearly stopped in his chest. He hadn’t gotten a Christmas gift since he was 10. Four years ago.
Katsuki didn’t have anything to gift Izuku, but like always the green haired saint understood and waved it off.
“Mom got a new job in Los Angeles. So we’re moving there in a week.” A solemn Izuku looked at the dirt beneath them, digging into it with the toe of his sneaker.
He saw all their grand plans for when they grew up explode into ash in his mind. Rich and famous wouldn’t mean shit if Izuku wasn’t there with him. Katsuki felt an unfamiliar tightness in his chest that he didn’t know what to do with. And, true to himself, he lashed out because of it. He never knew what to do except lash out. “Well, good fucking riddance. Finally, something that’ll get rid of you following me around everywhere.”
“Kacchan, why are you being so mean?”
Katsuki opened his mouth to answer, but out of the corner of his eye he spotted Shigaraki and his ‘League’ walk around the corner. A relatively new gang that Katsuki had the misfortune of being subjected to, courtesy of his mom. They were the only ones that could supply her needs, and Katsuki didn’t know how else to help her. They spotted him, stopping on the street. A subtle tilt of his head indicated that Katsuki should follow orders and make his way over. His stomach clenched and he looked at Izuku, who he made sure remained untouchable to the likes of the League.
After a few harsh words he couldn’t even remember saying afterwards, he ended with “Now I don’t always have to look over my shoulder at you. Don’t bother calling anymore.” He forced his feet to turn away. In truth, he was glad Izuku was leaving. He didn’t have to worry about protecting him anymore. He would have a better life away from this hell hole. Away from Katsuki, and his constant fuck ups. Deku tried to talk to him again but Katsuki only got meaner, pushing Deku away once more.
The day Deku left, Katsuki sat on the abandoned roof of an old factory building that he and Izuku used to frequent, notebook in hand turned to a blank page. It was the most beautiful sunset Katsuki had remembered seeing.
Months turned to years as Katsuki made more mistakes, as he grew into a man, and found himself at the wrong end of the law. He’d find himself turning over in his bunk and staring at the ceiling of his cell, wondering how Izuku was doing on the extra lonely nights. If he was okay. Where he was. If he had followed their—his dreams and enrolled in Berklee Music like he planned.
Whatever happened to the nerd, Katsuki hoped to whatever god existed that he was happy. He was the one good thing that Katsuki could lay claim to from his now distant childhood.
And as the nights passed, and life kept kicking him, Katsuki forgot all about the green haired boy with freckles as a little notebook was left untouched underneath his pillow in a collapsing trailer until his sentence was up.
“Yet in reverse you are all my symmetry
A parallel I would lay my life on.
Katsuki tapped out a rhythm on the studio drum kit, pausing just long enough to write down the notes before he forgot. The rest of the guys had left for the day. He heard the telltale muffled opening and closing click of a door behind the glass panel.
“Booth’s taken, try next door.” He grunted dismissively, knowing whoever was behind the glass could hear him talk through the microphone. He didn’t have time to deal with a lost wannabe A-lister right now. Not after the week he’d had.
After having a new producer practically forced on him by the agency in order to ‘tame and elevate’ his style, meeting said producer, and finding out it was Deku of all people only to realize he was straight out of Katsuki’s wet dreams (except more of a smartass than he had ever imagined Deku could be which infuriated him to no end…), Katsuki had just needed a moment to himself.
When he didn’t hear the door closing again, he looked up with an irritated frown. “Didn’t you hear me? Get lost—”
“Hey, Kacchan.” Deku interrupted him, bending over to speak into the two-way mic as he took a seat.
Katsuki huffed. “I’m busy, nerd. Get out.” He flipped him off as he wrote down the last notes in the notebook. It wasn’t the same one Izuku gave him, with a nerdy print of the ALLMIGHT logo on it, but it was the same color yellow. Katsuki was a creature of habit after all.
“Oh, well don’t let me stop you.” A dry tone responded to him over the faint crackle of the speakers. “In case you forgot, it’s my job now to be in your business. At least for this stuff.” He added as an afterthought.
Katsuki snorted, all the fighting energy out of him for now. “Fine, then shut up and don’t bother me. I don’t need you looking over my shoulder every five seconds for this shit.” He began to hit a new beat, fitting it to their new single set to release in a month.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” The nerd quipped back in a dry tone that brought Katsuki to a halt. He found Deku’s shielded gaze through the glass that separated them.
“What the fuck’s that supposed to mean, huh?” He snapped, pointing an accusing drumstick at the freckled man.
A long-suffering sigh filtered through the speaker. “Nothing… Just—Look I’m sorry, this whole thing was a surprise to me too. I didn’t think…” Deku paused, the mic cutting out. Then, “I’m glad you’re doing well. It’s good to see you again, Kacchan.”
Katsuki glowered, pissed that the nerd seemed to be able to meet his gaze head on now. He chewed the words around in his mouth for a moment, shoulders stiff and his body on edge. How could Deku say that? Deku was the one that left, not him! (Let’s not mention the fact that Katsuki literally pushed him away the week before he moved across the country.) Fuck, Katsuki was a complete stranger to him for all he knew!
“You could’ve called.” He wasn’t about to admit he missed the nerd, because he didn’t. But…
“Heh, it goes both ways you know.”
How could he have known? He hadn’t spoken to Deku since the day before he left, and that had been twelve years ago. And up until recently, Katsuki’s life wasn’t exactly on display for the world to scrutinize.
“I—couldn’t.” He choked out, a scowl settled on his features. He saw Deku tilt his head in curiosity. Katsuki rolled his eyes. “Christ, do you live under a rock? I was in prison for eight years, moron.” He snapped.
“So was I.” Deku replied, deadpan. And THAT brought Katsuki up short. “I mean, yeah. A few days at the county jail after a really, and I mean really, drunken night. You wouldn’t believe the room service. Abysmal. I think I really made an impression on that guy with the porn stache.”
Katsuki’s brain short circuited, and a sharp laugh bubbled up through his lips before he realized it happened. A cherub grin tugged at Izuku’s face as well as Katsuki found himself nearly cackling and the ridiculousness of it. “Yeah, that’s some hard time alright. Suppose you’ve officially crossed into the dark side now.” His laughter died to a chuckle as Izuku stepped into the sound booth with him, shoulders shaking from the laughter.
“Here I am again surrounded by criminals!” Deku’s breathy sarcasm paired with a nonchalant stretch didn’t do Katsuki any favors with the odd feeling beginning in his stomach. He shook his head good naturedly as he walked over.
“Pfft. You idiot.” Katsuki shoved Izuku’s shoulder, only mildly surprised by how much he didn’t budge. And this felt better now, the casual banter, because they’d been at each other’s throats the entire week.
“Can I see what you’ve been working on?” Izuku gestured to his notebook, something flashing behind his eyes as Katsuki handed it over with a nod. The man looked it over, brows pulling down and pinching his lip between his fingers as he muttered to himself. Some habits never went away. Katsuki found himself relaxing a little, his chest feeling warm as he absently rubbed at the feeling.
He watched as the green haired man mumbled on, tapping his chin with scarred fingers as he played out Katsuki’s music in his head. Throat working as he whispered over the words. A curiosity built at the creature before him, some things the exact same as he remembered from when they were brats and some things completely foreign.
“Deku.” Katsuki didn’t mean to say it, he wasn’t sure why he had, but it jerked Izuku’s head up to meet his eyes. Fuck it. “What happened after…?” He trailed off, hiding his nervous hands with a quick tap on the rim of the snare with his sticks. His own old persistent habit that never died.
Izuku smiled at the action, as if remembering the same thing before handing the journal back to Katsuki, who took it back with tattooed hands. Certain designs acting as a visible reminder of the life he’s lived. He suddenly felt self-conscious of the lines on his skin.
“Well. I went to Berklee, just like we said.” Not I. We. “Mom’s still in LA. Got my degree in music and teaching. Now I’m a professor at Yuuei University in San Francisco, where ALLMIGHT teaches. Not much to tell.” And Katsuki perked up at that little bit of information. He’d forgotten about ALLMIGHT’s alma matter, but Katsuki huffed a laugh that Izuku would be the one to teach at the same place their idols did
“Still a fuckin nerd.” He shook his head.
“Don’t forget, mysterious masked DJ by night.” He reminded Katsuki of their accidental run in at the club that Deku had been performing at before they found out he would be producing for the DYNAMIGHT band. They’d spoken, and Deku agreed to listen to some of their songs while at the club with Katsuki none the wiser. And when Deku had walked in, mask over his face into their studio, only to accidentally reveal himself as the one and only Izuku Midoriya, Katsuki’s childhood best friend, Katsuki lost his shit. He was still sour about it. Just a little.
Deku ran a hand through his wet curls. Still glistening from the rain outside. Katsuki watched as they bounced right back to their unruly state.
He wasn’t stupid. Katsuki knew Izuku was leaving out some key details. Katsuki traced his vision over the scars on Izuku’s hand intently, wondering what hardships they hid. He had more than when they were kids. He saw a shadow flicker in Izuku’s emerald gaze, recognizing the turmoil for what it was, having seen it in his own for so many years. Izuku had faced his own obstacles growing up, and Katsuki couldn’t shake the feeling that he was looking into a murky mirror. He felt his fingers twitch with the urge to touch, to reach out to Izuku and comfort him like the boy did for him so many years ago. But something held him back, a lingering guilt in the back of his skull.
He looked away with a sharp jerk. There was plenty of time to sort out all his thoughts. Izuku would be working with him and the band for the foreseeable future. So Katsuki contented himself to the promise that he’d get to the bottom of all Izuku’s past, all the years he missed out on.
“Don’t remind me. Can’t believe you play that hip hop remix bullshit.”
“You came to MY show, not the other way around!”
“And my ears were bleeding the whole time.”
“Hey, it helps pay the bills! And it’s not bullshit, I have my own music—”
“Yeah, I’d like to see that!” And Katsuki wasn’t kidding. He would like to see Izuku play his own music, just like they always said they would. Albeit he’d rather them play together in their own band instead of Katsuki playing and Izuku behind the scenes now.
Izuku smacked his chest indignantly. The warmth in his chest fluttered, despite the circumstances that brought them back together. Here they were, still perusing their dream in the music world. On the fast track to rich and famous, leaving dirty old trailers and apartment buildings behind. Pushing each other once more to be the best. And Katsuki felt… good. For the first time in years.
His fingers lingered on the piano keys a little longer, his voice drawn out a little softer. The crash of drums and chords of the guitar knocking him out of that memory.
Izuku’s eyes never left his as he sang. His hand deftly reached out and brushed a single fallen tear off star speckled cheeks.
“For me
It’s still the autumn leaves.
These ancient canopies,
That we used to lay beneath.”
Izuku squealed in laughter as Katsuki pushed him over into a giant leaf pile. They had wandered over to the nicer neighborhoods on the north side of town, needed an escape from the dreary slums they lived in. Killing time until they had to go back for dinner.
“Kacchan, now I’ll never get this out of my hair!” Izuku complained, trying to pick crushed leaf bits out of his messy bedhead and brush it off his ratty sweater.
With a smug grin, Katsuki offered a hand and helped pull Izuku from the explosion of leaves on the sidewalk. He picked a few larger pieces off Izuku, finishing it off with a flick to the nose.
“Ouch! Hey! What was that for?”
“Just reminding you that I can do whatever I want, Deku.” A humph was his answer as they continued along the iron gate fence, blocking off access to huge white mansions and perfectly manicured lawns. Katsuki stopped in front of his favorite one, the drumsticks he had found in a trash bin with Izuku in his hands as he banged on the iron bars in a sloppy rhythm. He did that a lot lately.
The house had several giant oak trees with sprawling limbs hanging over the driveway, coating everything in a scattering of reds, browns and oranges. “One day, we’ll be living in houses like that, Deku. We’ll be number one. Better than ALLMIGHT!”
Izuku’s shoulder brushed his. “You really think so, Kacchan?”
“I know so. You ‘n me. We’re gonna be the ultimate rockstars!” He declared to a beaming Izuku, wishing he could somehow keep that look on the nerd’s face forever.
“Yeah!”
“No, by now
The night belongs to you.”
Katsuki twirled his sticks as the song came to an end, grinning from the high as they finished recording the last song for the album. Sero, Denki and Kirishima clapped each other on the shoulders and fist bumped in celebration as Katsuki sipped his drink.
“Alright, one more time. From the top.” Izuku’s voice came through the booth speaker.
“What?!
“Huh?”
“Aw, really? Do we have to?”
“What the hell, Deku, that was perfect!” Katsuki shouted in exasperation.
“Sorry, sorry. It was perfect. I just… want to try something.” Izuku apologized sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck from his safety barrier behind the studio glass.
“Tch. Fine. But this is the last fucking one.” Katsuki put his foot down.
As they restarted the song, Deku walked into the booth, drawing confused glances from the boys as they looked around at each other. Deku adjusted a few chords and knobs on the speakers and then pulled up a second microphone.
“Uh guys?” Denki started, adjusting the strap of his electric guitar.
“The fuck are you doing?” Katsuki demanded as Izuku put some noise cancelling headphones on.
“Just trust me, please?” Deku begged, his doe eyes round as Katsuki stared him down.
“Whatever.” He picked up the song again immediately, the other guys chiming in on their cue.
At the height of the song, Deku came crashing in. A piercing wail filtering through their headphones as he lent some backup vocals to the song, the high notes complementing his own raspy tone perfectly in a hypnotic blend.
Katsuki’s hands faltered, and the music cut out abruptly as he threw his sticks and yanked his headphones off. “What the fuck, when were you gonna tell me you could sing?!”
Izuku scrambled to get out of Katsuki’s grasp before he could forcefully catch him and get the answers he wanted out of the producer.
Weeks later, the tour was in its last leg. Katsuki felt the sweat drip down his back as he hit the drums over and over, a feral grin on full display. Kirishima thanked the crowd as usual, drawing roaring praise from below. Katsuki felt a rush of excitement at what he knew was coming. What he had asked Kirishima to do.
“And lastly, the surprise you’ve all been waiting for.” The redhead teased. “The secret siren you’ve all been dying to meet.” The crowd grew infinitely louder. Katsuki glanced over to the wings of the stage, where Izuku stood hidden from the public. His face was pulled into a mortified expression and Katsuki chuckled darkly. Checkmate, nerd.
“Come on out here, Mido-bro. Folks, lets give it up for our amazing producer and vocal ace, Izuku Midoriya!” Kirishima introduced the dork as Mina gave him a hard shove onto the stage.
Deku stumbled and beelined it to Kirishima, who had his arm out in welcome. The shorter man paused as he got to the redhead looked out at the crowd, seeming to take in the riotous cheers and screams that were meant for him. Katsuki watched with satisfaction as he caught the hint of a blush starting to climb Deku’s neck as he waved and thanked the fans shyly.
“Keep an eye out for our next album folks, Zuku here is gonna be leading vocals from here on out! I’m officially retiring from the job.” Kirishima joked with a nudge to Izuku, who seemed to mouth an incredulous ‘wait, what?’ Bomb dropped.
Fuckin’ right, nerd. You’re not getting out of this one.
Katsuki relished in the disbelieving fury Izuku turned to direct at him as the lights dimmed and the show came to a close.
Turns out, the joke was on Katsuki all along, as show after show piled up and he got front row seats to Izuku as he took charge of the stage like he owned it. Transforming them all into something incredible. Katsuki would never tire of seeing him flit across the stage, eyes alight with a sort of drunken pleasure as he sang his heart out under the spotlight, bathing in the noise of the masses below them like some sort of fallen angel. Every show, every night, every note, every light belonged to Izuku.
Katsuki finally broke his gaze with Izuku as he played, striking the piano with almost the same force as his drums. Tears were flowing freely down the other man’s face and Katsuki himself felt the sting begin.
The last words of the song spilled softly from his lips, his own voice echoing the track he gave Sero to play that projected his voice through the rafters of the arena. This, he sang just for Izuku, not the world. He closed his eyes, playing with one hand as he grasped blindly for Izuku’s hand, finding the rough skin easily and pulling the shorter man impossibly closer. A balm for his shaking hands and exploding heart. Can you see me now, Izuku?
A harsh knocking at his hotel room door jarred him from sleep like a cold bucket of water. For a moment he thought it sounded like the prison guards banging on the bars of his cell, sending his panic into overdrive. He took a moment to rub the sleep from his eyes, finding his smeared black eyeliner on the back of his hand when he was done. Where was he again? What time was it? How did he get back to his room?
A clock read 3:26 in the morning.
Images of the concert afterparty flickered through his mind. Vaguely, he remembered Kirishima dragging him limply from the club and back to the hotel, Izuku waving stiffly as they left. The man with his arm around Izuku eyed him as Katsuki left in nothing less than a fucked-up heap over the bassist’s shoulder. A few hookers with their tits in his face blocked his view of a grimacing Izuku shortly after.
Katsuki spotted the discarded beer bottles on the coffee table, a half-finished line of coke next to a credit card and rolled dollar bills, and about 15 cigarette stubs put out in the crystal ash tray and an unlit blunt. Clearly the party had continued here, not that it lasted much longer. Katsuki cringed as more moments flashed in his mind, not enjoying what past him got up to, now that he was experiencing the aftermath.
So what he indulged a little in the high life. Sue him. He certainly deserved it after eating shit all these years.
The knocking came again, a little quieter this time but no less insistent. “I’m comin’, hold your damn horses! Fuck.” He groaned as he rolled out of bed, practically crawling along the floor to find his discarded shirt from the night before.
He sniffed it. Clean enough. He didn’t bother with pants, his boxers would do. He nearly tripped over Kirishima, sprawled under a comforter on the floor. Mina was snuggled under his arm.
Wait. Mina? Katsuki shook his head. About fucking time.
Katsuki found Denki and Sero sharing the couch, legs twisted in a pretzel that wouldn’t be comfortable to wake up from later.
He swayed over to the door, catching himself on the frame as he cracked it open with an evil glare at the bright hallway lights. Izuku stood in front of him. Eyes red and puffy from crying, busted lip, and a suspiciously red and darkening cheek. He was in the same clothes as earlier, now clearly rumpled and dirty with some unknown substance—oh.
Shit.
Fuck.
Shitfuck.
Izuku opened his mouth, as if to say something but Katsuki watched as his throat bobbed but no sound came out.
“Izuku—what…” Katsuki closed his mouth that was now gaping at the singer, quickly opening the door fully and stepping aside to let Izuku in.
The green-head did but quickly turned around, squeaking out an apology upon seeing the rest of the band sprawled in various states of debauchery and uselessness. “I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have come—I didn’t know where else to go—I’m gonna leave! S-sorry!” He ducked back underneath Katsuki’s arm but the drummer caught his collar before Izuku could escape.
Izuku gasped, turning quickly and bringing his hands up to protect his face in a flinch. Katsuki reeled his hand back in as if he’d been burned. They stared at each other for a heartbeat. Two. Three. Until Izuku’s lip began to wobble with incoming tears and Katsuki felt his spine straighten.
“Come here, nerd.” He opened his arms, guiding the other gently into his embrace before a soft sob was muffled in his shoulder.
He managed to coax the shorter man into the suite, kicking Kirishima and lightly smacking Dumb and Dumber to wake them as he pushed Izuku toward the bathroom.
“Get up losers, sleepover’s getting old. Get out!” He barked without much bite as grumbling complaints filtered through is ears. He closed himself and Izuku in the bathroom, sitting Izuku on the lid of the toilet as he waited to hear the others leave his room.
Thank fuck they hadn’t brought any other extras back, or Katsuki would be stuck feeling even more gross than he was now after seeing Izuku’s eyes linger on the empty bottles and drugs on the table.
The click of the door had Katsuki kneeling in front of Izuku, who struggled to wipe away his tears, face red and brows scrunched in a heartbreaking expression that Katsuki had no clue how to deal with.
With far gentler hands than he’s ever had, Katsuki guided Izuku’s hands away from hiding his face. Katsuki tapped his jaw lightly indicating for Izuku to turn his head so he could inspect his lip and the bruise forming.
His thumb brushed the tears away as Izuku shut his eyes, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come here.”
Katsuki sucked his teeth is a ‘tsk’ in response as he wet a washcloth with warm water, bringing it to wash Izuku’s face. He wiped away any trace of the salt, the blood, the snot, every ugly imperfection on Izuku’s perfect face, frowning as his mind worked.
“Izuku. This is the least I could do for you. You understand?” Katsuki grasped Izuku’s strong shoulders, finding it hard to believe anyone could do this to the man. But Izuku had always been the self-sacrificing type. Never one to put himself first above others. Katsuki knew that best from when they were kids.
Izuku nodded, another tear slipping down which Katsuki immediately wiped away. The image so different from how Katsuki saw him now every day, their sarcastic, confident, sexy as hell music producer and now, lead singer. The man up on stage every night belting out the absolute most orgasmic music was nowhere to be seen in the man before him now.
“He did this?” Another nod. “Where is he now?” Katsuki prompted, slowly moving to remove Izuku’s shoes and toss them aside.
Green eyes shot open frantically. Scarred hands clutched at Katsuki’s biceps, short fingernails digging into his inked skin. “Kacchan, no! Don’t—”
“Relax, nerd. I’m not gonna kill him.” Though he thought about it. What’s another decade or two in prison? Not like he doesn’t already have a record. His PR team would implode once and for all. “Tell me where he is.” Katsuki commanded gruffly. He needed to know there wouldn’t be any more surprises tonight. He needed to know Izuku would be safe for now. Katsuki had only met Izuku’s piece of shit boyfriend a handful of times, and each time he walked away with an oily feeling in his gut. The guy was no good, reminding Katsuki of the kind of people found lurking around Shigaraki and his League.
Izuku seemed to find whatever he was looking for in Katsuki’s face as he loosened his grip. “H-he left for the bar. After he… after…” Izuku’s voice trailed off as his eyes stared unblinkingly at Katsuki’s chest.
Katsuki nodded, more to himself. He brought Izuku back into his arms for a long while. Feeling the shivers and sobs wracking his body slowly dissolve.
For now, Izuku would be okay with him. A vice tightened around his heart as he helped Izuku stand, hands expertly helping to remove his disgusting clothes and turned on the shower. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
He wanted to burn the fabric. Wanted to erase any trace of that asshole from Izuku. Kiss away the memories and make Izuku forget anything but his own touch. He made a note to bleach the fuck out of the clothes instead. Maybe find some way to destroy them in the wash and then feign ignorance. Katsuki could admit he was maybe a little bit selfish with those thoughts.
The question burned at the tip of his tongue as he wrapped a towel around Izuku, keeping his eyes firmly on the wall behind him. He didn’t trust himself to react appropriately if he saw the rest of his body. He didn’t want to know whether or not the bruises extended elsewhere. And fuck, he was only a man. A man who also certainly knew Izuku was beyond good looking with a body to die for. He’d wanted to do sinful things to Izuku for weeks, shitty boyfriend be damned. Couldn’t the nerd see he was better in every way? Katsuki ground his teeth together.
“Why him? Why do you keep going back to that asshole?” He finally asked as the steam from the shower began to cloud the mirror of the bathroom.
Izuku sighed as he turned from Katsuki to get in the shower. Katsuki turned his back to the other and clenched his fists to keep from reaching out and dragging Izuku back to him. “It’s not that simple, Kacchan.”
“The fuck it ain’t!” He growled as he heard the curtain swipe closed, pissed that he couldn’t do anything about the fuckface that did this to Izuku over and over again.
Izuku didn’t answer him, but his soft sniffles were answer enough to Katsuki.
“I’ll be just outside, Deku.” He turned to open the bathroom door.
“No, don’t!” The shower curtain pulled back to show Izuku’s face, still red and puffy, as water trickled down into his eyes, over his lips and further down where Katsuki was desperate to see. Not now, of course. But, he could still dream later. “Don’t leave.” Izuku whispered, wide eyes pleading. Try as he might, Katsuki didn’t think he could say no to those eyes.
He nodded, gaze falling to Izuku’s lips as they sucked in a breath and teeth bit down lightly on the bottom flesh. Izuku’s throat bobbed. Katsuki slowly, painfully dragged his eyes away as he leaned against the door and slid down to the floor with his eyes pinched closed.
Katsuki forced himself to sit still as he listened to Izuku scrub his skin raw, small whimpers echoing across the white tile of the bathroom. His traitorous mind going to a place where he knew he could take those whimpers and turn them into moans.
God, he felt pathetic. Izuku needed him, and not in that way. He knew that. But he couldn’t help how every piece of him craved Izuku these days even if he did drive him absolutely batshit crazy. A small part of him knew that he’d craved Izuku since he was 13 and just starting to learn what those freaky feelings in his stomach were. Those freaky feelings were nothing compared to now, like literal razors carving him from the inside out every time he reached out but couldn’t touch Izuku the way he wanted. Needed. For now, he’d force himself to accept the fact that Izuku wasn’t his. Never had been. And wouldn’t ever be if he was being honest with himself.
Katsuki spent the rest of the time Izuku was in the shower thinking distinctly of things that didn’t turn him on and weren’t six feet away naked. How fucked up was he in the head? Safe bet to say pretty fucked up. When Izuku stepped out of the shower, standing awkwardly wrapped in a towel, Katsuki realized that he was blatantly staring.
Izuku looked like an inverted creature of the night. Pale skin dappled in a million dark stars, his torso and arms streaked with comets and splattered in supernova scars.
Katsuki thought there wasn’t a painter on the planet who could capture the devastatingly beautiful image now burned into his brain like a meteor crashing to earth. His eyes traced everything, following the galaxy down to where it disappeared behind a fluffy towel.
Katsuki cleared his throat as Izuku coughed with a slight blush. “I’ll uh, get you something to wear.”
He heard Izuku’s muffled thanks as he rushed back into the main suite. Katsuki roughly rummaged through his suitcase, managing to grab a plain skull t-shirt and pair of extra boxers for Izuku to wear.
He waited for the singer to dress, coming out a moment later with Katsuki’s oversized shirt loosely hanging off his shoulders and a sheepish half grin on his face.
Katsuki let a short chuckle leave him at the out of character sight before they fell into silence, staring at each other across the room.
“Um. D-do you have—”
“Water? Yeah” Katsuki cut him off, already spurred into action towards the mini fridge below the coffee bar.
“No. Uh. I could use a drink, actually.” Izuku said softly.
Katsuki paused as he crouched to open the fridge, looking over his shoulder at the smaller man. “You sure that’s a good idea?”
Izuku gave him an admonishing look with pursed lips as he sat down on the couch where Denki and Sero were asleep earlier. The look was clear: As if Katsuki had any room to talk.
Katsuki shrugged and relented, grabbing an unopened beer from the fridge.
“Do you have anything stronger?” Izuku eyed the bottle in his hands with distaste.
Katsuki felt a slow smirk spread across his face, “Hooo? You tryin’ to get in my pants, nerd?” Internally cringing at the choice of words after they’d left his lips. Fuck, why couldn’t he say anything right?
Izuku glared at him, but it didn’t last long as Katsuki turned around and replaced the beer with a handle of tequila by way of apology.
Izuku took three huge gulps as soon as Katsuki handed him the liquor, wincing as it went down.
“Easy there, bunny. You’ll make yourself puke faster if you keep it up.” Katsuki stopped him with his old DJ moniker as Izuku raised the bottle for a fourth pull, prying it from Izuku’s strong fingers to take a slug for himself. In truth, Katsuki didn’t want Izuku to drink himself into a stupor right now, after his emotions had been running high. He didn’t want to deal with the inevitable fallout from that course of action. And he wasn’t going to let him drink alone. When Izuku pouted and put his face in his hands with a groan, Katsuki leaned forward and pulled his hands away for the second time that night. “Want to talk about it now?”
Izuku eyed him for a moment, judging Katsuki’s sincerity. “No. I want to forget.”
Katsuki sighed and snatched the blunt off the counter, finding the lighter discarded under the coffee table. “Let’s sit outside.” The room was too stuffy. He lightly smacked Izuku’s shoulder and nodded towards the tequila. “Bring that.”
In true Izuku curiosity, the green-head followed him out to the balcony of the room, where Katsuki leaned over the railing to look at the cityscape below and lit the blunt. He took a long inhale, the smoke settling sweetly in his lungs and sending an airy rush through his brain for a moment before he coughed out the rest. He held out the roll to Izuku, who took it immediately to Katsuki’s surprise.
He watched as Izuku copied him, seeming like he’d done this a hundred times before. Maybe he had. Not so innocent Izuku. Not that Katsuki really thought that anymore from what he’s come to know about this new adult version of Deku.
The effect was immediate, the rigid slope of Izuku’s shoulders dropping with each inhale and sip as he calmed down. Katsuki, oddly enough, felt the need to talk. Say something to get the nerd to relax. And luckily enough, Katsuki has had a nagging question ping-ponging around his mind for months now that he needed the answers to. But really, Katsuki also just wanted to see that fiery spark ignite in Izuku once more after the shit show earlier tonight. That’s why he came to him right?
“Hey, tell me about that. Where’d those come from.” He wrested the tequila from Izuku, took a sip and gestured to the multitude of scars on his arms.
Izuku looked up at him in surprise, the city lights casting a strange shadow across his face that obscured Katsuki’s ability to read his darkened eyes. Izuku dropped his eyes down to look at his arms with a tilt of his head. “Kacchan, you of all people should know the first rule of fight club is that you don’t talk about fight club.” The corner of Izuku’s mouth twitched up, like he was fighting the smile.
“Smartass. How’d you get ‘em?” He shoulder bumped the shorter man, caught off guard again at how immovable he was.
“I just told you. Fight club.” Izuku’s voice was dry, but Katsuki could detect the humor beneath.
“Fine, don’t tell me shitty Deku.” Katsuki huffed, which resulted in a light chuckle from Izuku.
“But I just did!” His hand moved to cover his giggles. Katsuki waited for an explanation. “I did some small-time cage fights to earn some extra cash for mom’s medical expenses.” Izuku waved his hand dismissively, downplaying the fact that he used to participate in a literal fight club.
That wasn’t something Katsuki was going to forget, nevermind that picturing nerdy, wimpy Izuku was in fact a delinquent just like him and that was hot as fuck.
“Wait, seriously? Am I safe here, right now with you?” Katsuki made an exaggeration of leaning away from the other. Izuku rolled his eyes with a small smile.
They ended up talking for over two hours, most of which Katsuki later replayed in his mind in the privacy of his own room. It was easy. Izuku made it easy for him to laugh again, to open up about himself without looking over his shoulder for something to jump out at him or a camera in his face.
They made it to the small patio couch at some point in a fit of laughter and Katsuki felt light. The fluttering in his chest leaving him pleasantly happy to have Izuku back again with him. Next to him, where he was always meant to be. Every now and then he caught himself looking a little too long at Izuku as the night wore on. His casual touches (which he never does) lingered a little past friendly.
“—and then, the bitch ghosted me! ME! Come to find out, he didn’t really like the flavor of sausage, ya know? I can honestly say that was a first.” Katsuki exclaimed loudly into the night, as Izuku watched on with amusement then confusion.
“Wait, I thought you were straight?” Izuku questioned, taking another sip of the tequila. The weed had long since been smoked, and they both were still riding high on the remnants of its effects.
Katsuki snorted. “Battery Pack tell ya that? I’ll kill that Dunce Face for spreading rumors—”
“No, just, I’ve never seen you with a guy… like that.”
Katsuki raised a pierced brow. “Stalker. If you must know, I’m bi. You oblivious idiot.” He flicked Izuku’s forehead.
The singer spluttered, a blush turning his face an attractive shade of red, which made Katsuki smirk evilly. “W-well, it’s not something I was actively trying to figure out!”
“Sure. And I’m not blonde. I saw you staring at all the after parties, you creep.” Katsuki kicked his feet up, dumping them on Izuku’s lap when he tried to protest. “In any case, I know you’re about as straight as a circle.”
“Kacchan, you know I have a boyfriend.” Izuku chuckled incredulously, as if it wasn’t obvious as the sun in the sky.
“Yeah. Clearly you prefer burnt hot dog.” Katsuki scrunched his nose, shoving the image of Izuku with his boyfriend far from his mind. Izuku stared at him, trying to not seem so affronted as his features warred with whether to laugh or frown. “I mean, come on. Have you tried anything else? Italian sausage, Chorizo, Salami… Bratwurst? I happen to be a great chef if you ever want a taste.” He waggled his eyebrows at the last one, eliciting a startled laugh from Izuku, who smacked his legs as a result.
“That a fact? Is there anything you don’t offer on this particular charcuterie board?” Izuku’s eyes squinted as he laughed, clutching his stomach as Katsuki pretended to think about his answer.
He snapped and pointed a finger gun at Izuku with a wink. “Roast beef sandwich.”
“K-Kacchan!” Izuku’s blush was back at the blonde’s crude joke, shaking his head in disbelief and unable to hold back the absurd laughter from bubbling up once more.
“What, you asked! And now I’m hungry.” Katsuki removed his legs from Izuku’s lap and leaned forward, antagonistically poking his chest. Katsuki told himself it wasn’t a tactic to get closer to the man, or feel the muscles hidden beneath his oversized shirt. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to.” He huffed as their laughter died down, leaving them inches apart and staring at the other in the dim glow of the city lights under the night sky.
Katsuki didn’t dare move as he whispered. “It suits you.”
“What does, Kacchan?” Izuku stared at him with hooded eyes and parted lips.
“Laughter.” He answered honestly after a pause. “I like your laugh.” A far cry from the tears of earlier, or the high-pitched squeals of their youth.
Izuku smirked knowingly. And did he just lean closer to Katsuki? The flutters in his chest seemed to increase ten-fold. “Laughter sounds weird on you. You sound like a gremlin.”
“In that case, I’m never laughing again. You’ll eat those words.” His pride wouldn’t let that go unanswered, but Katsuki didn’t really much mean what he said and Izuku looked at him like he knew it too. A true cat that caught the canary look on his face. They settled into a tense silence as they held each other’s gaze.
Izuku finally leaned back away from Katsuki, releasing him from Izuku’s soul binding hold. Police sirens blared in the distant city below and the singer glanced over Katsuki’s shoulder at the skyline, then to the drained handle of tequila. Katsuki knew there was still another hour before the light of dawn began to turn the sky gray, but that didn’t stop the jolt of panic when Izuku opened his mouth again, knowing what was coming.
“I should… go.” He said slowly, unwillingly, as he stood from the couch and turned toward the sliding glass door to the room.
“Stay.” Katsuki blurted, chasing after Izuku. He managed to block Izuku’s way to the hallway door and push him back against the glass of the patio window, doing his best to calm his rapid breathing. Katsuki grabbed both of Izuku’s hands and held them pressed between their chests. “Don’t go back to him tonight.” His voice seemed unrecognizable to his own ears, clipped and desperate.
Izuku sighed as he looked up at Katsuki from underneath a pinched brow. “Kacchan…”
“Please.” Katsuki tried again, the space between them mere inches. “Just… give me tonight. Just this once.” He leaned his forehead against Izuku’s. “N-nothing has to happen, but…” He didn’t know the words to give voice to what he wanted. What he was desperate for with Izuku here in his arms. Perhaps he never would.
He could smell the liquor on Izuku’s breath as it fanned lightly over his collar bone. Izuku searched his face from beneath dark lashes, uncertainty in his gaze. His plush lips parted to respond but Katsuki felt himself move without thinking.
His lips pressed against Izuku’s in a firm kiss, hoping like hell that Izuku could understand this. Izuku grunted out in surprise but Katsuki only tilted his head and dove deeper. Parting his mouth to suck on Izuku’s bottom lip, pleased with the gasp he received in return. It was all too fast. He pulled back just barely to look at the singer, his muse, the subject of all his turmoil and suffering.
Izuku’s lips were parted and glistening as a blush took over his cheeks. Katsuki held his breath, not daring to make a sound in this moment for fear that he could mess it up. His eyes bounced from Katsuki’s eyes to his mouth for a moment before lunging back at Katsuki, throwing his arms around his neck.
Katsuki kissed him like a man starved. Between the gasps and the tangling of tongues, he let out a tortured moan, his hands tugging Izuku’s hips backwards to the king bed. Izuku followed him down, trying to memorize the taste of Katsuki. He didn’t mind, battling Izuku for control of their kiss. He felt hot, with Izuku’s hands grasping his hair and his own hands pushing the hem of his shirt to dig into the flesh of Izuku’s sides. The kiss quickly turning into something rough and needy. A soft whine met Katsuki’s ears as he sucked and nipped at the other’s plump lips, tongue delving to taste more, go deeper until they molded together.
Izuku abruptly broke away, panting with his eyes closed. “Kacchan, we can’t…” Katsuki leaned up to kiss him, which was reciprocated a bit calmer now. “Kacchan. Please. Wait.” A war raged on in Katsuki’s mind, screaming at him how wrong this was even though it felt so right. Another kiss. “S-stop.” Just one more. “We can’t.” Izuku’s gentle hand pushed on his chest, bringing Katsuki back to earth with a forlorn sigh. Can’t or won’t? It didn’t matter. He wouldn’t push. Even though he wanted to. He wanted to shake and scream at Izuku until he saw that Katsuki was so much better than his shithead boyfriend.
He felt Izuku swallow as they breathed each other in. Every rise and fall of Izuku’s chest pressing against Katsuki, who was trapped underneath thick thighs. Not that he’d ever complain. “Sor--shit. I just…” He didn’t have an explanation for what just happened. Izuku shook his head, not needing the words.
“I know.” He whispered back.
They held each other for a moment in the quiet of the room, their kiss heavy in the air, before Izuku started to squirm in Katsuki’s arms, reminding him of the panic that gripped him earlier.
“You can still stay. I-I want you to stay. We’ll just sleep, yeah?” Katsuki murmured into green curls. God he sounded pathetic. Izuku seemed untouchable to him in that moment, despite being in held in his arms. Something forever just out of reach. Even if it was the only chance he ever got again, he silently begged the man to give him another shot, to take care of him. To give him this night. Just tonight.
“Give me the night, Izuku.” He pleads softly. So I can show you.
Izuku took his time responding, searching his face for something with an odd look on his own, and all he managed was a little nod. Katsuki felt the tightness in his chest ease a little. Relieved he didn’t just fuck up his newly rekindled relationship with Izuku once and for all.
They rearranged themselves under the covers, the last few minutes lingering over their heads. Katsuki joked about it being like when they were brats and offered to build a pillow wall in an effort to relieve the tension. Izuku simply smiled and shook his head, curling into Katsuki’s side and laying his head on his shoulder like he used to do.
Katsuki hesitantly rubbed little circles into Izuku’s back as he stared at the ceiling. The fluttering in his chest had settled into a sleeping beast, purring contently just underneath his skin as he realized this was the first time he’d felt anything like this. Day by day, hour by hour, there was something shifting within him when it came to the singer.
He felt Izuku’s breathing gradually even out and slow down, indicating he’d fallen asleep. The warmth and perfect fit of his muscular body lulling Katsuki into sleep as well. Before he did, he kissed the top of Izuku’s head, a single tear slipping down his temple and disappearing into his hair as he whispered into the dark room for no one to hear but himself.
“I think… I’m falling for you, Izuku.”
“In turning divine
We tangle endlessly,
Like lovers entwined.
I know for the last time
You will not be mine.
So give me the night, the night, the night.”
He would give it all up in a heartbeat. Shed his skin and become a distant memory on this earth. Just for this. This moment in time as he bears everything he is and ever will be, because of him.
Even if he missed his chance. Even if it killed him slowly for the rest of his life, he had to say it. Even if he only had this night. This one night to hold him, kiss him, worship him again.
This one night to have him.
I love you, too.
Rolling Stones, issue XXXX.
Madison Square Garden, winter of 2024. Headliner DYNAMIGHT made history with what has since been hailed as rock’s number one best concert in history, surpassing ALLMIGHT’s 1998 Golden Age tour show finale. The album, Down in Flames has since had over 8 million downloads and streams, going multiplatinum across America and other countries, once again beating out ALLMIGHT’s record on their most popular albums: One For All, Plus Ultra, and Golden Age.
The most popular song performed at the end for an encore, sang by co-lead vocalist and drummer, Katsuki Bakugo, was not published on the album or played at any other event since, despite the demand from fans and thousands of videos trending of the song. There has been endless buzz around the song, seemingly performed as an ode to the lead vocalist, Izuku Midoriya a.k.a DEKU, who we all know has had a tumultuous on and off relationship with the fiery drummer during the early years of the band. The band has since announced their retirement from performance music with no mention of new albums or tours, nearly two decades later. One can only speculate: What are their plans now?
“Kacchan! Hurry up, we’re gonna be late!” Izuku’s voice, a little deeper now, called to him from inside their bedroom. Katsuki set the catalogue down, with a facetious groan. His fingers fidgeted with the golden band on his ring finger as a small smirk cut across his face.
“How many times do I have to tell you, don’t tell me what to do!” His voice took on a mocking quality as he left the balcony where he’d been sipping his coffee.
Izuku poked his head out from the bathroom, adjusting his tie with an eyebrow raised. The metal piercing bisecting his brow catching the glint of a ceiling light. “Ha.” He deadpanned. “Your suit’s hanging in the closet.” Izuku disappeared again behind the door.
Katsuki chuckled as he pulled the black and blood red suit over himself, deciding to forego the tie just because he knows it would irritate Izuku. He left the top two buttons of the black shirt underneath open, unable to resist showing off just a little. “Are the guys ready to go?” He asked as he inspected himself in the mirror. A little older, a little broader in the shoulders, with tattoos starting to fade in certain spots.
He felt a hand wrap around his waist and saw Izuku come up beside him in the mirror. “Yeah, Mina texted just a few minutes ago and said they were just leaving. Ochaco and the rest too.”
Katsuki nodded as he turned to his husband. He was dressed in an all-black suit, the green of his tie shimmering slightly in the low light. A little older, a little sharper in the face, with freckles darkened from the sun. This was their night. He leaned forward to kiss the green haired man with a single minded focus.
“Just so you know, I’m fucking you to within an inch of your life when we get home.” He threatened, a teasing lilt to his voice as he lowered his voice to a rumble that he knew got Izuku going.
“Yeah? We have our own label now, Kacchan. All the couches are new.” Izuku whispered back, his eyes lowered to Katsuki’s lips as he found himself leaning in for another taste.
It was Katsuki’s turn to raise a brow, and Izuku smirked conspiratorially. “It doesn’t open officially until Monday… tonight’s just the celebration party for Twin Stars…Would be a shame if they weren’t broken in. Especially the sound booth.”
The wind was knocked from Katsuki’s lungs as he caught Izuku’s meaning. He felt his pants tighten as Izuku waltzed away with a wink a hot little bounce in his step. Katsuki’s brain didn’t catch up until Izuku left the bedroom, heading for the front of the house.
Katsuki scrambled after him, trapping the slightly smaller man right as he reached the front door. His hands attacked him, roving up Izuku’s sides, finding his hands and pinning him there as he dove for a kiss that was all teeth and tongue and hot breath, unlike earlier.
“Fuck the party. Don’t care if we’re late.” He managed to grit out between ravenous tongue fucking and grinding his hips into Izuku’s.
A sinful laugh spilled from the singer’s lips as he pushed back, looking for relief on Katsuki’s thigh between his legs. “Make it quick.” A sigh dragged from his throat as Katsuki reached between them to undo their belts.
“Not a chance.”