Chapter Text
Bakugou woke up first. He came to slowly, with his eyes fluttering open before snapping close as he readjusted, shoving his head back into his pillow or Izuku’s hair and falling back asleep. He didn’t want to wake up yet, didn’t want to have to deal with the realization that this was it, this was the last time he would wake up with Midoriya for months, the last time he would be able to eat breakfast with him, spar with him, go to bed with him or kiss or cuddle for months. He didn’t want to leave it behind. Not yet.
There was something different. He could feel it. Rooted in his heart, tangled in his bones and his brain. Something was different, some strings were cut. He couldn’t recognize them before, couldn’t put a name to the feeling he had no recollection of, but now that it was gone- now that the quirk was gone- he was able to sense it. There were strings, the entire week, woven between him and Izuku. Tied to Izuku’s fingers and legs and chest, connecting him to Bakugou’s body. Pulling them closer together. And when one strayed too far, when the strings couldn’t stretch that far enough, they still tried and they pulled Katsuki, pulled his consciousness out of his body so that they could follow Izuku. So that he could follow Izuku. Just, in his dreams.
But there were no more strings. There was no more tugging, no more deep rooted desire, need, to be next to Izuku. There was nothing. There were no strings. ( And yet, Bakugou’s heart didn’t beat any slower, his mind obsess any less- and glancing down at Izuku, at his sleep-flushed face with those stupid freckles, stars and galaxies stretched and etched into his skin- even though there was no more necessity in being this close to Izuku, Katsuki found he never wanted to leave this safe, small bubble the two of them had. The quirk was a nuisance, no doubt about it, but the closeness it had brought is not something Katsuki wants to give up. Not now. Not ever.)
Bakugou can still feel them. Unwinding, falling loose. Hundreds upon thousands of pieces of thread slowly getting cut away, slowly falling down. They ghosted over Bakugou’s skin, like a taunt- here’s what kept you so close, now look at it dying. Bakugou hated it. The feeling of string sweeping against his skin. The emptiness that pulsed throughout his body, now that there wasn’t a constant tug, a constant need. He hated it.
So, he fell back asleep.
When he woke up again, bleary eyed and yawning, he forgot about the thread and the unusual emptiness filling the crevices in his body, making his skin prickle with coldness, with loneliness. Instead, his eyes landed on the figure of Izuku, curled up under his covers. The sun was out, hitting against his window and fracturing into millions of different pieces. Little rainbows danced across Izuku’s skin, covering up his wholly freckles and tanned skin. Under the covers, Bakugou’s hand twitched, grasping at Izuku’s own. In his sleep, Midoriya rolled over, closer to his boyfriend, with the faint mutter of “ Kacchan.” before his head lolled back and his mouth traced mindless babble.
Bakugou sighed, the sight as endearing as it was sad, and tried to go back to sleep. He settled down, the blankets coming farther up his chest as he readjusted his grip on Izuku, holding him tight. But, there was no sleep, no haze draping itself over Katsuki’s mind.
He resorted to sitting up in bed. Izuku ended up rolling again, his head landing in Bakugou’s lap, and so Katsuki took the time to run his fingers through the mop of tangled curls Izuku called his hair. He pulled gently, losing up the tight coils and smoothly tugging out the knots that Izuku never really cared to fix. Bakugou’s fingers scratched at Izuku’s scalp, drawing out pleased murmurs even in his sleep. He looked on, admiration clear in his sight, and continued the mindless task as he began to scroll through his phone.
When Izuku began to wake up, fewer words coming from his mouth and his forehead creasing, his eyes trying to stay closed, Katsuki lowered his face. His mouth became parallel with Izuku’s ear and, with a soft murmur, he whispered: “Go back to sleep, nerd.”
Izuku hummed, the sound low in his voice, and rolled over. His hands came up, clutched to his chest as he curled into a fetal position; “Yes Kacchan,” he responded, breathily and not all quite there. He nuzzled the pillow and his head fell heavy against it.
Katsuki sighed and figured out he should do something before the nerd wakes up again. He loves Izuku, really, truly, deeply loves him, but sitting in bed couldn’t keep his attention for much longer and his clothes were starting to itch at his skin. Energy was building up in his body- he needed to do something. So, with one last kiss to Izuku’s forehead, Katsuki quietly swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. He adjusted the blankets for Izuku after a moment, then changed into a different pair of shorts and a shirt. He grabbed some earbuds and, with one fleeting glance towards his stupid, adorable boyfriend, went for a run.
The air is cold in the morning, and there’s a freshness to it that Katsuki’s missed. He hasn’t been able to go on his early morning runs since he got hit with the quirk. He’s sure he could’ve, if he asked Izuku to join- he knows the younger teen would readily agree, probably even turning it into a race truth be told- but Bakugou also knows that Izuku has enough of a fucked up sleep schedule, what with his late patrols and tendency to do homework as late as possible, so waking him up from either his two hour nap or a rare occasion of actual sleep to run wasn’t the best idea. Still though, there’s a somber note in the air as Katsuki’s feet take him down the winding path of UA’s campus, past the dorms and gardens, around the main school building. He loves his morning runs. Looks forward to them, even. Something about running in the morning, the sun new in the sky, music thrumming through his ears as his feet hit the pavement on beat, the birds chirping along as the world wakes up-- it just hits different. Feels different. There’s a completely different atmosphere than running in the afternoon, or night; it especially feels different then running on a treadmill in a gym. It’s just… nice.
Still doesn’t take away the sting that accompanies it, though, when Katsuki remembers he’s only here- only able to go on a run and let his body carry him across the expanse of UA twice, because his boyfriend will be leaving. For five months. And then he won’t be able to touch him, or kiss him, or cuddle him. Or wake up next to him, or even- heck, fuck what he said, go on a run with him. For five months.
And there will be no more spars in the dorm, no more rushing to class or late night talks about homework and teachers piling on more than they should. No more conversations about their dumb school friends, and what work studies their picking up and thoughts about graduation parties. No more school uniforms, no more dorms. Ever. This is the last time they’ll be able to share that in person. Forever. Because, in five months, when they get to see each other again, get to be together, there will be no more school.
No more UA. No more Shiketsu.
The thought hits Bakugou harder than he considered it would. His feet slow down to a jogging pace, the music pumping through his earbuds fading to background noise. His brow furrows, his eyes stubbornly focused on the smooth pavement in front of him and the greenery poking out of his peripheral as his hands curl into fists. There will be no more UA. No more dumb jokes shouted over the dinner table, no more sleepovers with his classmates, with his friends. No more group study sessions, or shopping trips. No more homework. No more classes. Kami, no more fucking lunch time together. Or training exercises! No more hoping for specific teams and shouting in glee (Well, Katsuki never fucking did that, but Shitty Hair sure did and so did… Raccoon Eyes…) (Bakugou shakes the thought from his head. No need to think about that now.) when they got the team they wanted. There’s just- there’s just going to be no more of it. They’re moving on. Growing up.
Bakugou ends up at Heights Alliance sooner than he realized. He would’ve thought he only did one lap of the perimeter of the school, if not for the familiar and comforting burn of his calves and sweat, leaking from his skin. He’s so lost in thought, not even computing Kirishima’s wave or morning greeting, that Bakugou goes straight to the showers- never mind he doesn’t have a change of clothes. He just strips, scrubs and washes himself off, washing away the grime, mind whirring with realizations. He has to say goodbye to Izuku today. He has to say goodbye to UA soon. Goodbye to the three years he spent here. Goodbye to the good memories and- he has to say goodbye to Izuku today. There’s too much in his head, too many realizations that Bakugou just sinks into the sento, not even noticing the burn of the too hot water.
He doesn’t want to leave. Doesn’t want Izuku to leave. Doesn’t want this to all change. Kami, though, he does want the rest of their lives- living together with Izuku and starting their hero agency; but he doesn’t want to move from this moment. From this week. (Though, there are things he’d rather not relive, things he’d rather move away from) It’s all too complicated, stirring in his head, and when Bakugou exits the bath, having to throw on his dirty clothes from before, much to his disgustion, he just barrels to his room- not noting any interactions from anyone in the commons.
He slides into his bedroom, already peeling off the dirty clothes and throwing them into his hamper before chucking on some simple shorts and one of his nice t-shirts. After a moment's consideration, he steals Izuku’s sweatshirt too. It’s a little small on him, and it clings tight to his figure, but it smells and feels like the green-haired boy so Katsuki can’t complain.
Speaking of his boyfriend, Bakugou walks up to his bed, the pitter-patter of his feet filling the otherwise silent room. Izuku rolls over, his eyes fluttering for a bit before opening completely, giving way to emerald iris’ and a sleepy haze, full of confusion and joy. Izuku grins at him, soft, and stretches his limbs wide. “Kacchan?” He asks, voice so innocent and carefree that Bakugou can only scoff. Izuku reaches out, his hand patting at Bakugou’s arm until Katsuki holds out his hand. Izuku’s own hand falls down the length of his arm until he grapples at the hand, eventually entwining their fingers loosely. Their hands fall down after that. “Kacchan, what’s wrong?”
And of course the damn nerd would know when somethings wrong. Because, even though Katsuki looks fine- with his firm set face and his normal, grouchy attitude, the nerd’s always able to read between the lines even when the page is fucking blank. Bakugou just blinks at his boyfriend before looking away, all too aware of the roaring river of emotions locked in his mind.
Izuku frowns and tugs Bakugou closer. The blonde ends up sitting at the end of the bed, Izuku’s hand in his lap. Midoriya sits up a little. He rests on one of his elbows, his eyes drawn together. “Kacchan,” he pleads, voice quiet in the early morning hours, “what's wrong?”
Bakugou licks his lips and huffs because it’s fucking stupid. It’s stupid that he’s sad about this all, stupid that he’s babying about Izuku leaving for five months and then UA ending for the rest of his life. Wishing to stay in high school is the most pathetic thing he thinks he’s ever felt, and it doesn’t make any fucking sense because his whole life all he’s ever wanted to do was be a hero and do field work and open his own agency- and now he’s finally able to fucking do that, now his time at UA is ending, and he’s sad?
“It’s just-” and he scoffs then, because what else can he do. His eyes dive to the side, staring out the balcony door, but Izuku doesn’t want that- he won’t have that. So, gently, ever so gently, because whenever they’re together Izuku’s always gentle-- even in their spars- and Kami, that’s just another thing Katsuki’s going to miss, but ever so gently Izuku grabs Katsuki’s chin and turns his face until emerald eyes stare into ruby-red. And Izuku keeps his hand there, keeps his eyes focused, and Bakugou’s entranced because has Izuku always been this pretty?
(And the answer is of course; of course Midoriya’s looked like this forever, of course Bakugou knows how beautiful he is. It’s just- now, now that Izuku’s leaving, and now that Bakugou’s sentimental, and now that he’s realizing how fast everything’s moving, how he’ll never be able to relive this, to stay rooted in this spot- now, Katsuki’s staring straight at Izuku’s face, so close [and he could count his freckles, he should; he should, his fingers, rough and calloused, should try to count every freckle so then he can kiss them all-- and oh, isn’t that a lovely thought] and the knowledge of the now, and of the short future ahead of them-- just in this afternoon, even-- now Bakugou just wants to appreciate what he has, and the beauty that is Izuku, because it’s the last time he’ll see him like this-- see him so close, where the light visibly reflects off his eyes and his fingers are so soft against Katsuki’s skin-- in a while. So, yes. Izuku’s always been this pretty. But, in this moment, in the now, Katsuki is more aware than ever of the passing of time, so he wants to appreciate it. Appreciate the beauty of Izuku. Appreciate Izuku as a whole.)
“It’s just…” Midoriya’s voice trails off. He needs Katsuki to finish his sentence, and needs him to tell him what’s wrong. But he can’t force that, and he can’t brawl his way through this-- because, despite what everyone may say about him, Izuku is the fight-first, think-later type of guy-- so he needs Katsuki to tell him. So. He hopes he can convey that, with how he holds Bakugou’s chin, and how his knees press into Katsuki’s thighs, and how his eyes look- vibrant with emotion, vibrant with need. And, it works, because Katsuki and Izuku have this down by now. This invisible language. It only takes one glance, one look at Izuku’s emerald eyes, with his stern-set lips and little wisps of green curls, tickling at his forehead and messed up from sleep, for Bakugou to spill.
“It’s just everything's changing.” He settles on that, because that's easy and simple and it makes sense.
“Yeah,” Izuku says, “everything is changing.” He leaves it at that, for the moment, because they’re careful and gentle with each other but the realization is still harsh, despite how much they’ve talked about it, and despite how much it’s been eased into them. There’s more they could say after the beat, after the soft silence that fills Bakugou’s dorm. There’s plenty of sentences. Plenty of: ‘But we’ll change with it’; ‘But that’s a part of life’; ‘But we’ll always be together, so really it doesn’t matter’. But they don’t say that, because Katsuki’s never been one with words, and Izuku- much to his dilemma- has never been one with them either. So, instead of speaking, instead of mouths opening and closing again and again, as the words get stuck in their throat, stuck in their mind before real words can really form- only thoughts and ideas bubbling together trying to force themselves into the shapes of letters- instead of that all, Izuku leans in close. His shoulder bumps against Katsuki's, so the blonde boy turns to the side a little. Izuku continues to lean forwards, till his face is in Bakugou’s chest. Katsuki wraps his arms around Izuku, and holds him, because it’s the last time he’ll get to do it in 5 months and this whole day is a day of goodbye’s. He needs to make every action count. Every emotion bleeds from his mind into Izuku’s.
Izuku’s shirt is rumpled and slides down his shoulder, the collar loose from years of use and stretching out. Bakugou glances at that patch of skin, with it’s menial scatter of freckles-- in no shape, with no connotation of any star-constellation, and yet no less meaningful. Katsuki stares at those freckles, for a moment, and then a moment more, and one hand unwraps against Izuku’s waist. He grumbles, and there’s a low noise of discontent, of some offense and protest, in his throat, but then Katsuki’s hand is placing itself on Izuku’s shoulder and he’s tracing those random freckles, and all protest dies in Izuku’s mouth. They sit like that, with the phrase: ‘everything’s changing’ hanging over them, and just let themselves take in the solace, take in the information, that- even though everything’s changing- they are a constant, and they will be a constant.
Katsuki traces Izuku’s freckles, and everything else fades to background noise.
Later, when the sun is still ripe in the sky and bleeding down onto them- casting shadows and highlights across Izuku’s face as he traces different patterns into Katsuki’s chest, the words resurface and settle again. Speaking gently through the air, an atmosphere so dream-like it doesn’t even quite seem real, Izuku says “Yeah we’re changing.” And there’s a beat and a pause, and then he’s pushing onwards, the words finding him and shaping in his mind in a way they wouldn’t before. “But we’re always going to be changing. And… well frankly if we weren’t I don’t know if I’d want that life. A life without change.” Emerald green eyes flicker upwards, catching onto Katsuki’s from where he’s staring in the distance, no real emotion showing despite the rapid river of feelings flooding his mind. “Kacchan…” And it’s oh-so-soft and oh-so-sad and oh-so-what Bakugou needs to hear.
“Kacchan… Change is what’s going to let us grow. And there will be a mission where we’re apart. For weeks or months or years at a time. And I never want to be away from you, but there will be times that we’ll have to be. And that’s change. But change is also us, yes leaving school, but starting our agency and going up in the ranks. Change is you becoming Number One. Change is… change is how we know our jobs-- how we know heroes -- are working.”
Izuku stills at that. Let’s the words fester for a moment. Then he’s looking back up, his hand leaving Katsuki’s shirt and instead cupping his jaw. “I don’t think you’re scared of change, Katsuki,” Izuku says- and it’s oh-so-powerful and oh-so-simple. “I think you’re waiting for it. And the anticipation is what’s making you like this. What’s making you think you’re sad and you’re scared but you’re not. Because the Kacchan I know isn’t scared of change. I think you’re ready for it. You just… don’t know how to act when it comes. But that’s okay. Because we have 5 months more. 5 months more to the rest of our lives. This isn't the end, Katsuki. It’s the beginning.”
And all Bakugou can do is give a wet laugh and lean closer, knocking his forehead against Izuku as green curls tickle his skin. “When’d you get so smart dumbass?” He asks, joyful and a little sad for reasons he couldn’t explain.
“When you got so strong, idiot,” Midoriya response-- equally if not more emotional. And they laugh and they let the tears streak out and down their cheeks, dripping onto their conjoined hands. And when Katsuki leans in for a kiss, it’s just a simple peck, but it holds more emotions than normal because it’s not a goodbye kiss. It’s not a kiss full of sorrow, full of ‘I wish you didn’t have to leave’. It’s not a kiss of regrets or mistakes. It’s a kiss of promises and festering joy of what’s to come.
Aizawa’s the one who walks them to the train station. Says he needs to-- says it’s required for a mentor to lead their intern to transit and safely see them go. Bakugou knows that’s full of bull and that Aizawa just wants to say goodbye to Izuku. But, Katsuki doesn’t say anything because he wants the exact same thing.
Izuku’s duffle is clutched loosely in his hand. They have 10 minutes until the train arrives, and Bakugou fully intends to take advantage of them. He let’s Aizawa say goodbye first though, partly because he’s not that much of an asshole, and partly because he wants the man to leave so he can have Izuku all to himself.
The hobo exchanges a few words which the blonde doesn’t hear. He clasps Izuku on the shoulder, nods his head solemnly, and says something that gets Midoriya to puff his chest out and tilt his chin up, a look of pride and determination painting his features. No doubt that he complimented Izuku as a hero, and said that he looks forward to working with him in the future. But then Aizawa stepped back. He nods to Bakugou when he passes him, and continues onwards to the end of the train station area. He glances at the benches, all neatly lined up, but decides to just lean against the wall, eyes peering at Bakugou and Midoriya.
The blonde shakes off the feeling of being watched. He knows it’s just Aizawa-sensei.
Katsuki steps forwards and Izuku gives him a shaky smile, all wet and shit with tears. Bakugou tsks.
“I thought we had this heart to heart in the morning,” he says, raising an eyebrow at Izuku’s small chuckle. Midoriya raises a hand to wipe away a tear.
“What can I say?” he asks, “I’m emotional.”
Bakugou stares at him for a moment, eyes tracing and taking in all of Izuku’s features for the last time in 5 months before he looks away and scoffs. His hands squeeze together in his pant pockets, bunching up the fabric.
Midoriya steps closer, a comforting hand pulling Bakugou’s out of the pockets and into his own hand. “Hey,” he says, voice shaky like a baby, “this isn’t the end.”
“It’s just the beginning,” Bakugou mocks. “Yeah, I know nerd.” And it’s solemn and sweet and it’s what they need to hear.
“I still think you’re a nerd.”
“And I still think you’re a loser.”
The two let the banter stew. Izuku traces a star onto the back of Bakugou’s palm, a soft hum on his lips, and Katsuki just traces the sight of Izuku. When the announcers gargles out something resembling the words: “Train” and “1 minute”, the two let the handholding drop.
“I guess this is it, huh,” Izuku laughs mournfully as the train screeches into the station, doors opening as people flood in and out and yet here he still is, feet rooted to the ground.
“Not the end,” Bakugou promises because it’s not the end. It can’t be the end. It won’t ever be the end. “Just a new beginning,” he finishes.
“Yeah. A new beginning,” Izuku repeats. And then he’s leaning in and lips meet lips, all soft and sweet and it’s gone too soon, the taste disappears too soon and Bakugou’s left wanting to chase the rosy red pair but Izuku just pulls away. Shakes his head.
“In 5 months.”
“5 months.”
Izuku’s eyes dart between Kacchan’s, searching for something. And it seems he finds it because he gives a tight squeeze to Bakugou’s biceps, leans in close with the murmur of “5 months, I love you”, and then the announcer’s saying the train’s leaving and Izuku pulls away and Bakugou can only watch, helpless and frozen, as Midoriya steps back and back into the crowd, green swept away in a sea of other colors. The train door’s close, and Midoriya’s gone.
The strings were cut. The quirk’s over. The week’s reached an end.