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It’s the middle of August when they move into the dorms, and Katsuki is pretty goddamn happy that they get single rooms. Nonetheless, a building full of twenty teenage kids still becomes irritating every once in a while. It’s not that Katsuki really misses being home or anything – it’s good to be away, to focus on his dream – it just gets claustrophobic to know that school never really ends.
He discovers the roof almost immediately, and there he finds room to breathe.
It’s nothing special. On the fifth floor, there’s a staircase that leads to a small outdoor platform between the two brown, pointed rooftops of Heights Alliance. He’s actually not so sure if anyone is supposed to be up there at all, but for whatever reason, this is a rule he’s okay with breaking. The view is nothing special, just trees and a bird’s eye view of the road that runs by the school. Still, it’s separate from everything happening beneath him, keeps his eyes darting between power lines.
Katsuki makes it more than a year before he runs into anyone else. Despite his visits being an almost daily habit, the times are arbitrary. Sleepless nights or a cloudy head draw him upward. One evening at dusk in September of his second year at UA, the birds on the power line performing a dance for him are interrupted by the loud clamour of the closing door. Katsuki quite nearly jumps, and the birds definitely do. The door’s noise echoes as a sound effect to the birds’ sudden departure.
His eyes snap away from the green of the trees, but they’re greeted by the same color. Izuku’s frame looks small hunched in on himself, contrasting his widened eyes that meet Katsuki’s. An immense wave of annoyance washes over him. This is his place to unwind. It’s his quiet space.
If there’s one thing he knows about his childhood friend, it’s that he and quiet do not go together. Ever.
Katsuki crosses his arms and opens his mouth before he even thinks about it, “Fuck off.”
The words splatter on the ground before him, drawing a dividing line on the concrete of the roof. He doesn’t really mean for it to be so harsh, but he’s managed to turn his instinct brusque, even if it’s not his nature. Izuku’s gaze grows soft before he looks away, his arms coming up to wrap protectively around his chest. Katsuki doesn’t see tears, but he hears the sob creeping its way up Izuku’s throat. A quick jab like that has never been enough to make Izuku cry, so he must have already been upset. “I won’t bother you,” he says. “But I can leave if you want. I didn’t know you were up here.”
Katsuki sighs and turns around, gritting his teeth as he goes. “It’s fine. Just don’t talk to me.”
He hears Izuku exhale, and his uncertain figure comes to lean against the railing as Katsuki is doing. He’s far more than an arm’s length away. Clearing his head is much harder for Katsuki with Izuku a few feet away. If anything, it’s more of a challenge.
The birds rejoin them not long after Izuku arrives. They both stand there, up on the roof, until the sun is swallowed by the trees. The rhythm of Izuku’s steady breath becomes almost soothing – a metronome amidst the usual silence of the rooftop. Part of Katsuki wants to ask what’s wrong, but he and Izuku haven’t talked about anything beyond their rivalry in a long time. The idea of a new beginning is terrifying to him.
Neither of them say a word.
One fallen domino is all it takes to start a chain reaction, and as if it had always been happening, Katsuki and Izuku begin to run into each other on the roof rather often. Katsuki often wonders how the two of them had gone so long without coinciding before this, and he can’t even write it off as Izuku following him, because half of the time, Izuku is already there when he arrives.
Still, the idea of asking Izuku what troubles him when his face droops is tempting. Although – he’s not always down. Sometimes, he looks totally at ease, sighing happily as he lets sunlight warm his face. When Katsuki dares to follow his eyes, he usually sees them darting along with the movement of the cars. Eventually, he gets used to Izuku’s presence. The two of them have always been good at falling into habits with one another. It’s how they’ve always functioned – take what the other gives. Offer and receive. Katsuki had to grow used to this as soon as he realized that Izuku was not going to be pushed down forever. It hit him harder when he realized he had been pushing him down for all the wrong reasons. Even now, the idea of raising him up is still terrifying, despite there being a very intense part of him that is aware of how brilliant Izuku is. The other part of him knows that they’ve already been doing that for each other for a long time. It seems like they’ve always been making one another better.
So they’re rooftop boys, always drenched in silence and light. Sometimes, they meet at midnight, and the same moon that makes Katsuki’s hair glow milky white casts a gleam of nighttime radiance in Izuku’s eyes – Katsuki only catches that when he dares to meet his gaze. They often stay like that, looking at each other and saying nothing. Words crawl up Katsuki’s throat, but he’s not sure what would come out if he opened his mouth. Where do you start after, “ fuck off?”
Sometimes, dawn paints Izuku pink as the sun rises its way over the building and casts a warmth onto their backs. The best, though, is at dusk. When the gentle colors of evening turn their silence gold.
It’s not like they don’t speak outside of the rooftop, either. They’re actually quite civil, on the ground. Functional as partners in the field. Friends, even. Katsuki thinks it’s the isolation that changes things. The rooftop is like another dimension, where he’s forced to look a radiant version of Izuku in the eye and admit everything he’s ever done wrong. He’s aware of every ounce of hesitance that he’s felt when trying to get back to the place where he and Izuku were friends without confines.
On the rooftop, they don’t talk, but it doesn’t take Katsuki long to realize that he likes when Izuku is around. Whatever tension or worry that drew him to the roof in the first place eases faster when Izuku is next to him. The only issue is that that worry is soon replaced with the problem that is Deku. The Deku problem hasn’t always been the same, but it’s always been consistently present. The version it’s becoming fills Katsuki with both excitement and dread. He knows the nervous sensation in his stomach that arrives when they meet eyes is telltale, but he tries to ignore that.
It’s Katsuki who breaks the silence first, though, only because the question and the quiet alike are eating at him. Izuku is wrapped up in a sweater far too big for him, sleeves pressed against his jaw as he rests his chin in his hands. “Nerd,” Katsuki starts, and he watches Izuku jump at the sound of his voice. He blinks owlishly. “Why the hell are you up here so much?”
Izuku seems tired when he responds, but he still cocks his head curiously. “I could ask the same of you.”
Katsuki huffs. “Yeah, but I was here first.”
Sometimes he wonders how much he’s allowed to joke around with Izuku, how seriously he’s going to be taken, but he barely catches the quirk of Izuku’s lips. “I like being high up. Having all this to look at helps clear my mind.”
Another thing they have in common.
“So why do you never talk?” (Katsuki knows it’s a dumb question, but sometimes Izuku makes him wonder dumb things. He didn’t know Izuku was going to take him so seriously.)
He knows Izuku wants to ask the question back again, he can see it on his face, but instead he replies, “You told me not to. Besides, I come here to think.”
Before Katsuki can hold back yet another dumb thought, he blurts, “You basically only think with you mouth.” He coughs awkwardly. “You know, with the fucking muttering.” Before Izuku can even attempt to come up with a reply, Katsuki shakes his head to clear the air and continues, “Maybe you should start, is what I mean. Talking to me.”
It’s ironic, the way silence envelops them again as soon as Katsuki’s words leave his mouth, and Katsuki is left floundering as the birds begin their morning songs and his heart thumps rapidly in his chest. Its rhythm is very much out of tune with the birds, and he hopes like hell that Izuku responds without making him feel like a fucking idiot, because he’s not so sure he can take any more quiet after that.
The only reason Katsuki is glad he doesn’t look away is because of the way Izuku beams at him. He hopes Izuku doesn’t notice his blush. The morning light makes Izuku shimmer. His green hair falls right in between his eyes, and Katsuki has to resist the urge to brush it away. But they haven’t even gotten talking down, so he doesn’t think touching him is a good idea, as beautiful as he is. All these hours of not speaking when he has so much to say leave a sense of urgency scratching in his chest.
Izuku’s words subdue it just a little.
“Okay, Kacchan. I’d love to talk to you.”
And that’s all it is. A beginning.
Katsuki starts coming to the roof more than once a day, when he has time, and he has to tell himself that the prospect of running into Izuku isn’t the only reason. Even though he’s felt less stressed. Even though the view gets even more bland as autumn approaches. He just really likes the roof. That’s what it is.
Between him and Izuku, it’s not everything all at once, that would be too easy. Rather, the silence slips away little by little. Most of the time, he waits for Izuku to speak first, because he’s not always sure what to say. He’s not sure how to begin again. Even though he can sense that Izuku is hesitant, too, he usually goes for it.
Tonight, sweater paws and all, Izuku rubs his tired eyes as he turns to look at Katsuki more fully. In the dark his grin is so bright, and he asks, “Hey, Kacchan, do you remember when we were little, and you found a slug in our sand bucket? And how we spent all day trying to find it a perfect shell?”
Katsuki narrows his eyes, cool exterior never unwavering. Curiosity always on the inside. “Tch. The fuck you bringing that up for?”
Izuku merely shrugs, still smiling. “I’m just wondering if you remember. We worked really hard so he could be a snail.”
“Yeah, of course I do. But don’t fuckin’ make me regret asking you to open that damn mouth of yours.”
He snaps without thinking, and is almost immediately tempted to fold in on himself. He doesn’t know how to do this. He doesn’t want to think about that slug. It’s hard to think about a time when they had so willingly worked together. Even if it was just for the sake of a slimy little mollusk.
Katsuki has done a lot of working on himself since he’s gotten to UA, but confronting your mistakes doesn’t get easier, no matter how many times you do it. Shame doesn’t suddenly grow sweeter.
“Maybe he didn’t want to be a snail…” Izuku ponders, crossing his arms into a pillow and burying his face into his sweater.
Maybe he didn’t, Katsuki thinks. Instead of agreeing, he resigns. “You’re damn weird, Deku.” He doesn’t have to say, I don’t feel like talking today, but he supposes Izuku gets it.
Even though they sit in silence after that, it’s not uncomfortable. It hasn’t been in a while.
Izuku is quite persistent about the childhood memory topic when it comes to their rooftop conversations. It keeps whittling away at Katsuki’s guard, making him split open a bit more each time.
One afternoon, following a big test:
“Do you remember how we always used to try to skip dinner? We would hide under the table in the loft above your bedroom. It was kind of silly, wasn’t it Kacchan? It’s not like your mom couldn’t see us when she walked in! We just always wanted to keep playing our hero game that we came up with…”
Katsuki rolls his eyes, but the memory hits him hard. Had Izuku not said it, he probably wouldn’t have remembered. But there truly was a time that they had so much fun together that they didn’t even want to spare time to eat.
“Do you remember when you shut the fuck up?” Katsuki bites back, ever-in character.
Izuku laughs warmly, and all Katsuki can think to himself is how well they know each other, after all this. “No,” he chuckles. “Do you?”
Katsuki smiles despite himself, and he knows Izuku sees.
He lets himself laugh once he considers the moment: joking with his childhood best friend on the roof of their dorm, past cloudy behind them and future waiting just beyond the powerlines, there for the two of them to take and make their own.
On a really cold evening in early October, a week or so later:
“Kacchan,” Izuku begins warmly, even though his visible breath is curling up close to his mouth, “Do you remember the summer when we won the sandcastle making contest? I know our moms did most of the work, but a giant All Might bust made of sand was pretty, wasn’t it?”
“Fuckin’ hell, Deku, you and these damn memories. Are you trying to make me feel bad or something?”
Something clenches in his chest. Their All Might bust was fucking cool.
Izuku looks at him curiously, no hurt on his face. His eyes shining, clouds of breath in front of him like a mirage. “No,” he says simply. “They’re happy memories, right?”
Katsuki quite nearly flinches. “Are they?”
Izuku lets himself smile, like he always does. That boy would never hold back a grin, even if it was the only thing he had left to give. “They are for me.”
Katsuki sighs and looks away, staring down down down at the one car winding its way into the distance. He figures from up here, he doesn’t have much to lose. This has been his safe place for a long time. “And what about all the shit that came after that?”
Izuku shrugs, and when he speaks his voice is somber. “It’s… shit, I guess.”
Katsuki cracks a sly smirk at the sound of his swear. “Who knew little goody two shoes, useless Deku would grow up to use words like shit?”
“Still think I’m useless?” Izuku quips, but his words are light instead of weighty. He activates One for All to glow a shimmering green, and Katsuki knows it’s just to get a rise out of him.
He crosses his arms, mutters, “Tch.”
“I don’t think you do. And it scares you.”
Katsuki’s heart rabbits in his chest. It’s true. The meek Izuku from middle school is just a hazy memory of their childhood now. Part of Katsuki thinks that the Izuku in his memory is distorted, anyway. He was never as useless as Katsuki wanted him to be.
Those are things he can’t say out loud. Instead, his words spill out like reflexes. “Don’t make me break your face, nerd.”
Katsuki’s not even so sure he’s threatened anymore. If this is a do over, maybe he’s just bad at beginnings.
“I think we’re supposed to compete with one another, Kacchan.” Izuku speaks like it’s the easiest thing in the world. As if there is nothing in between them. But if Katsuki looked to his left, he’d find that there isn’t. Just a foot or two of wide open space, waiting for one of them to close the gap. He stares straight ahead. “We always have. So it’s okay, right? Remember when we would race as kids?”
Katsuki growls, clenching his fists. “Why are you saying all this?”
Izuku pays him and his frustrations no mind. He’s gotten rather good at that.
“You’d always win. Amazing Kacchan was so fast.”
Katsuki tightens his crossed arms and stands up a bit straighter, letting himself smile again. “Yeah, I would.”
“I think I can probably keep pace with you now.”
He’s not talking about 100 meter races in the back of their primary school. Katsuki lets his face bear whatever emotion is running through him, and he does the best he can for now, says, “Well you’re here, aren’t you?”
The space between them doesn’t look so small.
“ Shit ,” Izuku says pointedly, wryly. “I guess I am.”
It’s when Katsuki feels something missing when he’s on the roof alone that he knows Izuku has succeeded in becoming a part of the feeling that the space gives him. If someone were to suggest that he misses the nerd, he’d clock them in the throat so they couldn’t breathe – but he doesn’t feel like punching his own windpipe, so he settles on admitting it to himself. Talking to Izuku helps him unwind. Knowing that makes Katsuki feel like maybe he owes him a little. He’s spent so much time hiding behind this front that he’s starting to think that it’s blocking his way.
He wants to relish in the last few warm days of the year, and he guesses that the weather is on his side as he and Izuku catch yet another sunset. The leaves that are still barely hanging onto the trees are glowing gold. He stares as the sun sinks lower but only realizes it’s dipped below the horizon when the sky turns pink.
Neither of them have spoken a word yet, so Katsuki figures this must be his chance to go first.
“Hey, Deku,” he starts, in the same way Izuku always does. “Remember when we first got to school, and you managed to kick my ass?”
He watches Izuku grin and can’t bring himself to resent the lurching feeling in causes in his stomach. “Of course. Would a rematch make you feel better about it?”
Katsuki snorts. He’s become so much cheekier these days. It’s refreshing. “Tch. We’d both know I’d win.” He pauses, forcing himself to get to the point. It would be so easy not to. With an uncertain breath, he continues, “I really hated you then. I don’t think I’ve ever hated you more than on that day.”
Izuku grimaces and looks away, hard, pained lines splitting his usually soft face just like Katsuki expects them to. It’s been long time since he’s gotten anything out of hurting Izuku. Watching him wince in pain is far harder than it is easy, these days. Still, he presses on, lets himself take a deep breath before he dares to scratch at the itch that’s been crawling up his throat since he first found Izuku up here.
“I hated how well you knew me.”
Izuku lets out a dry, sorry laugh, still not meeting Katsuki’s eyes. He sounds choked up when he speaks, and Katsuki follows his viridescent gaze out to the birds perched on the powerlines. He can see them chattering at one another, but the sound of songs doesn’t make it to the rooftop, where the two boys lean against the railing ledge. “I’m not sure if that’s something I can change, Kacchan.”
Katsuki sniffs. Formally declares fuck it. “I don’t want it to.”
He hears Izuku take a shuddery breath before turning to look at him again, those hopeful green eyes full of curiosity. “W-what does Kacchan mean?” he asks, but it’s more knowing than anything. Katsuki is sure Izuku knows what he means.
He hopes his blush blends in with the fading light. He hopes his attempt to speak with his eyes covers his ass enough, because the embarrassment takes over his words again. “Nothing. Just – tell me another story about fuckin’ snails.”
And Izuku does. He runs his mouth a mile a minute, lending his stories to the shrinking space between them. The setting sun paints his hair a shade of emerald, and Katsuki takes all of him in – the goosebumps brought on by the evening breeze, the freckles on his forearms, the crinkle of his eyes. His voice is full of life, and he speaks about their youth like the words have no choice but to leave his mouth, reminding Katsuki of all these things he’d never even forgotten.
In order to keep avoiding words, Katsuki turns to the next best thing. It’s more of a shot in the dark than a plan, because Izuku isn’t always on the roof when he goes up. But one night, he brings pictures. It seems that they’ve been meeting by fate’s hand rather than their own for a long time, and it’s actually Izuku who’s there first. Katsuki swings the door open, and there Izuku sits, atop the ledge that they so often lean against, legs hanging over the edge of the building.
The sight of him so casually resting on a precipice makes Katsuki’s heart rate pick up a bit; despite Izku being a hero with superhuman strength, it still scares Katsuki to think about what would happen if he fell. Katsuki isn’t sure the last time he worried about anyone this much. Always and especially, the selfless, battered Izuku. The first to throw himself into the fray.
The heavy sound of the closing door gets Izuku’s attention, and he turns his head over his shoulder to send Katsuki a smile that has him feeling almost sick. Or at least, that’s the closest thing he can think of to explain the feeling in his stomach. His grin is always so warm and sincere.
Katsuki’s no liar himself, but it’s truly amazing how true Izuku always is. Heart on his sleeve, forever and for everyone.
“Oh, Kacchan! Hi!”
Katsuki allows himself to smirk as he walks closer. “You really that surprised to see me?”
Izuku swings around and hops off the ledge, stretching as he stands. He’s taller now, long and lean and made of hard, compact muscle that contrasts the warmth and softness of his face. “Well, no,” he replies. “I just think it’s a funny coincidence. It’s a weird pattern, but every time I’ve come up to the roof, you’ve been here! I don’t think I’ve been up here alone once. You’re either here already, or you arrive at some point.”
“Huh,” is all Katsuki says. Huh, indeed. Like fate’s hand flicking him on the back of the head. “C’mere,” he demands, sitting down so his back leans against the ledge where Izuku was just perched.
It’s only then that Izuku notices the stack of photos in his hands.
“Why do you have those?” he asks, sitting too far away and scrunching his knees in close to his chest.
Katsuki waves the photos around. “What, you don’t wanna see ‘em?”
“No!” Izuku exclaims. His voice is hesitant when he asks, “It’s just… Did you, um– did you have those at school?”
“Nah,” Katsuki responds cooly. “I asked the old hag to send ‘em to me. Was curious. Haven’t looked through ‘em yet.”
He decides not to mention the fact that he was waiting to look through them together.
As Katsuki points his eyes down to begin rifling through, Izuku peers cautiously over Katsuki’s shoulder from where he sits far too distant. The way he leans is annoying, so hesitant and nervous. Like a man without strange feelings in his stomach, he sighs and wraps an arm around Izuku’s waist to pull him closer. He slides without wavering, and Katsuki lets his fingers linger on the ground by Izuku’s hip for just a second, where his t-shirt has ridden up, exposing white skin and what is sure to be home to at least a freckle or two.
He regains composure after a minute, going back to flipping slowly through the pictures. Their knees and arms bump and brush with every movement. Katsuki blames his chill on the October evening air.
He can’t help his bark of laughter that escapes when they arrive at a photo of a three- or four-year-old Izuku sitting in a sandbox, wearing a head-to-toe All Might onesie, bunny ears for hair and all. He’s covered in grass and dirt stains, but he beams at the camera, green eyes seeming to take up most of the frame, so young and unknowing.
Katsuki presses his finger against the face in the photo, tipping his head back with laughter. “Look at you, you fucking dork! Who told your mother she could put you in that!”
“Shut up!” Izuku cries, blushing. “I looked cute.” He pouts, crossing his arms across his chest. Katsuki wants to unfold them, uncurl his fists so his bumpy scarred knuckles can afford just a few less creases. So his tired and overworked palms can lie flat with rest.
Katsuki looks away. Mumbles, “They’re happy memories, aren’t they?”
He hears the way Izuku’s breath catches. “I knew you thought so too,” Izuku whispers.
Katsuki runs his thumb over the old photo, the fluorescence of the rooftop lighting making its surface appear shimmery. Newer. He stares down at baby Izuku’s round face and messy green hair. His chuckle leaves him without warning, a stark picture of the Izuku next to him in his mind. “You look the same.”
“ Hey !” Izuku whines, drawing out the vowel sound. “I’m a man now! You’re not the only one with muscles.”
With a smug smile, Katsuki wraps him in a headlock. “Oi, Deku, don’t get too cocky now.”
Warm breath coming from Izuku’s mouth bleeds into Katsuki’s chest, and he has to hold back a shiver. Izuku is laughing instead of struggling, his face pressing close to where the collar of Katsuki’s shirt droops.
“Coming from you? No fair.”
“I’m another level, nerd. You know this.”
“Yeah,” Izuku says. “I do.”
They spend an indiscernible amount of time looking at pictures of days past, and the minutes pass in a flood of laughter and stories from yesterday. Clearly it’s not that their silence that’s gold. Nor can the sun take credit, for tonight it has long been set. It can only be the two of them that are responsible for the warm light shrouding the roof. Maybe they’ve always been gold.
One night, Katsuki isn’t there when Izuku heads to the roof. This, he discovers when there’s a knock on his door. It’s far too late for visitors by Katsuki’s standards, and most of his friends know better than to bother him before bed. So when he opens his door, he’s ready to snap at pink hair or red, but he’s met with green.
He’s not so sure when this became true, but it’s really quite hard to turn away a Deku in the soft light of the hallway, donning a sweatshirt that’s too big for him and sleeping pants with frayed hems dragging on the carpet. His eyes are warm, but tired. His hair tousled but suiting.
All Katsuki can do is quirk an eyebrow in question.
“You weren’t on the roof,” Izuku says, like it’s a perfectly normal explanation for why he might knock at Katsuki’s door on a Wednesday night just past sunset. It’s not normal, Katsuki concedes, but it does make sense.
“Yeah,” Katsuki replies, voice gravelly. “I’m tired.”
Izuku quickly grows frantic. “Oh! Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you! Were you sleeping? Oh, now I feel bad…”
Katsuki rolls his eyes. “I wasn’t sleeping, chill. I was just laying down and listening to music.” He watches the expression on Izuku’s face change, ears attuning to the soft sounds of music coming from inside the bedroom, eyes catching the wrinkled bedspread. “You wanna come in, or what?”
“Can I?” Izuku asks shyly.
Obviously. Katsuki just rolls his eyes again and turns away, leaving the door open.
“I haven’t seen Kacchan’s room before,” Izuku notes as he takes his first few cautious steps into Katsuki’s space.
“It’s nothing special,” Katsuki mumbles, making his way over to his bed to sit with his back against the headboard. “So, what’s up?”
Izuku blushes, freckles stark against the pink of his cheeks. “I – nothing, really? Sorry if you thought I had something in mind… I just wanted to talk.”
Katsuki hums. “You got some childhood story to remind me of or something?”
Izuku shakes his head, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room as Katsuki remains sitting. “No, I–”
“Spit it out, dweeb,” Katsuki presses, less irritated and more flustered.
“I don’t know!” Izuku cries, frustrated. “I just feel like I’m supposed to be talking to you.”
Katsuki unlocks his phone and throws it Izuku’s way, knowing his reflexes and watching him catch it easily. “Here. We don’t have to talk to hang out. Pick a song.”
Izuku stays shifting back and forth from one foot to another, staring down at the phone like he’s never seen one before. Groaning, Katsuki stands, stomping his way over to Izuku to pull him with fingers curled lightly around his wrist to sit on the bed.
“Jeez, do I gotta fucking spell it out for you, Deku? Chill! We’re just hanging out.”
Izuku looks wrought with nerves, sitting delicately on the edge of Katsuki’s bed, like he’s not supposed to be there at all. “We just, don’t normally do that, you know?”
Katsuki rolls his eyes yet again. “Are you kidding? We’ve been hanging out for weeks now! What do you think we’ve been doing on that damn roof every other night? Just standing next to each other?”
Izuku’s relentless blush only intensifies, and he picks at the threads of the fraying sleeve of his sweatshirt. “I don’t know, Kacchan! Can you blame me for not really knowing how to be friends with you? Proper friends?”
Maybe all the childhood memories have just been a way for Izuku to relate to him. Because there’s so much space left blank in the way they communicate, maybe he’s forgotten how to do it. Can Katsuki really blame him? The space between them is all he’s been thinking about, all this time.
If Katsuki were any weaker, he would have flinched at his words. He grits his teeth, instead. Keeps pushing. Izuku is here now, so they might as well keep moving. “You’re smart, Deku. You’ll figure it out.” He pauses, trying not to snap with the anger pent up inside him. He’s really twisted all this into a knot that’s hard to undo, hasn’t he? They’re both forcing their fingers under tight spaces, trying to free themselves from these ties. He jerks his head in the direction of the phone still in Izuku’s hands. “Pick a song, would you?”
The music helps to clear the air, but Katsuki isn’t sure who starts talking first. Eventually they do lapse into conversation, and it feels easy. It’s felt easy for a while now. Those nights on the roof have urged them closer. They talk at school. Share a look over something unspoken. Bask in that golden light. It’s simple.
Izuku makes his way from his tentative place on the edge of the bed, to its center with criss crossed legs, to curling up into a ball until his bright eyes begin to droop with fatigue, and he falls asleep, there at the foot of Katsuki’s bed. Katsuki lets him for a while, the softness of the music Izuku chose washing over the two of them in what feels like a rare moment of peace. It’s when the clock reads eleven that Katsuki decides he should probably get him to bed for real, and as much as he’d like to memorize the pattern of his breathing, count the freckles that form a trail from the bridge of his nose to where his ears meet his jaw – he can’t let him stay.
“Deku,” he mutters to get him to stir. He receives a puff of breath in response.
“Deku,” he tries, louder. Nothing.
“Deku!” Silence.
He sighs at the lack of response, trying to shake his nerves as he stands. Holding his breath, he squats by where Izuku’s face nearly hangs off the edge of his bed. Placing a hesitant and gentle and on Izuku’s soft cheek, he murmurs, “Deku, you fell asleep. You gotta go to bed.”
“Huh?” Izuku mumbles sleepily, coming to. He blinks once or twice, hair in his eyes, and at Katsuki’s hand warm on his cheek and their linked gazes, he nearly jumps. Katsuki withdraws his hand in an instant. “Oh! Kacchan! Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep here, I didn’t even think I was that tired. I guess the day really wore me out–”
“You’re fine, Deku,” Katsuki cuts him off. “Just get some rest. Training early, yeah?”
Izuku sits up, sleep still lingering in his face as he rubs his tired eyes. “Sunrise tomorrow?” he asks.
The invitation catches him by surprise. The rooftop was never something they planned in advanced. Still, it makes his heart speed up in his chest. “Won’t you be exhausted?”
Izuku shrugs. “Don’t care. Wanna see it.”
Katsuki stands, knees starting to hurt from the squat he was holding. “If you blow me off, you’re getting your ass kicked.”
Izuku smiles, stretching. “I’m sure the sunrise will be just as pretty without me there, Kacchan.”
Katsuki rolls his eyes yet again, wanting to say, you’re wrong. Instead, he just walks Izuku to the door and grumbles, “Night, nerd,” as he shows him out.
Izuku beams at him, eyes extra crinkly by the corners. Sweetness spilling out of his lips. “Your bed is comfy, Kacchan! See you with the sun!”
The first thing Izuku says to him the next morning is marked by humor. “I have another story,” he tells Katsuki. The only reason it’s funny at all is because the sun is pouring light all over his face, and Katsuki thinks that there are already a million stories unfolding right before them – what’s one more? There’s something about the sunrise that is making it hard to breathe if he looks at Izuku for long. Maybe it’s because he’s glowing that sun-drenched orange Katsuki likes so much. Maybe it’s because there’s a smile on his face that is causing his eyes to curve by the corners, becoming sweet green almonds.
Yes, they certainly have quite the story.
Staying true himself, he chuckles, forces himself to make eye contact for an amount of time that makes his stomach run wild with nerves. “Not about snails, right?”
“Kacchan, you’re really hung up on the snails,” Izuku deadpans.
Katsuki simply shrugs.
Izuku chuckles somewhat nervously, rubbing his face. “No, it’s not about snails. I-it’s kind of embarrassing, really…”
Katsuki turns to jab a finger in his chest, still looking at him with hooded eyes and hidden nerves. “ You’re embarrassing. Whether you tell me this story or not ain’t gonna change that.”
When Izuku laughs, it’s a bit hollow. His face seems a bit paler. “Well, now I’m thinking it might be a bit too embarrassing, you know what I mean?”
Is it wrong to think his blush is cute?
“Don’t lead me on like that, Deku. I’ll punch your teeth in.”
“I’m allowed to keep it to myself if I want! That’s my right!” he splutters. His green eyes are wide, and Katsuki doesn’t really like to seem him so uncertain. Izuku usually has the statue of a true hero: confident and determined. Katsuki is tired of shaking him so much.
He gives him a look, asking him to press on, and can’t help but note how his cheeks burn even brighter under Katsuki’s gaze. “What is it, Deku? You fucking confessing or something?”
It’s meant as a joke, really, because he can’t imagine Izuku falling for him in a million years. No matter how Katsuki himself feels. He’s aware that he crosses the line, though, because Izuku’s face changes completely. He tips his head back to look up at the sky, green hair parting down the middle and leaving his forehead. Katsuki swears he sees him fighting tears in the corner of his eyes.
Izuku takes a deep breath. “I don’t know if you remember, but sometimes when we were really little you’d hold my hand. Mostly it was because I’d always trip on the rocks by the river. If I had to guess I would say it was probably because your mom told you to look out for me, but it still made me feel safer.” A tear rolls down his cheek. “This is stupid,” he sighs, pausing. “I was so confused because I would always see couples holding hands, and I… I remember going home to ask my mom if boys were allowed to hold hands, and – and get married.”
He shakes his head a bit, noting Katsuki’s silence. Katsuki’s head is reeling. Is it a confession? Is he coming out? He’s always assumed that Izuku just loves everyone. That’s simply the way he is.
“And this is the embarrassing part, right? I said, ‘Mom, are boys allowed to kiss?’ Because I would always see this one man kiss his wife on the cheek outside of our apartment when she left for work. And she said, ‘Yes they are.’” He laughs wetly. A part of Katsuki aches for him, right in his chest, because he can see the pain covering his face. “So I asked if that meant I could kiss Kacchan to say thank you for holding my hand.”
He turns his face away completely, the climbing sun still making his hair and skin glow. Something seems darker now, though. “She said, ‘You can kiss whoever you want, Izuku. But make sure you ask first, okay? Some people don’t want to be kissed.’”
Izuku laughs again, but it comes out choked and teary. “See? I don’t know why I told you that. It’s embarrassing.”
Katsuki swallows. Izuku is always pushing him. Always has been. So he asks, “And what about now?”
“Now?” Izuku echoes, finally turning back to look at Katsuki. His eyes are red-rimmed, but he’s keeping himself together, refusing to cry.
Cocking his head, voice low and perhaps the tiniest bit nervous, Katsuki says, “Do you still want to kiss me?”
Izuku flinches visibly. “Kacchan, don’t be cruel. I only–”
His words stop at Katsuki’s hand that has suddenly appeared on his cheek as he tries to turn his face away. Gently, Katsuki thumbs one of his tears away, soft skin under soft touch. “I’m asking first, Deku. Can I kiss you?”
Izuku’s mouth is agape, green eyes oh so wide. Katsuki takes the moment to bring his other hand to Izuku’s face, thumb running along his plush bottom lip.
As Izuku nods slowly, carefully, Katsuki cradles his face with both hands and leans in close, just as the clouds that had been rolling over the rising sun pass. Beams of light fall on them as they kiss, and Katsuki has to takes a deep breath through his nose to soothe the rapidly beating heart in his chest.
It’s chaste and gentle, but when Katsuki pulls back, warm hands still hovering by Izuku’s face, he presses their foreheads together. “Oi, Deku.”
He barely catches the way Izuku blinks owlishly at him from below. “Kacchan?” he asks hesitantly.
“They’re happy memories, huh?”
Izuku giggles, and it vibrates both of their bodies. His voice still sounds teary, wrought with emotion, but pure and sweet. Sure. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Can we make more, Kacchan?”