Chapter Text
Katsuki is staring at his phone the next day after dinner, absolutely out of his depth with how to handle this. There’s no script for this, how to text an ex-soulmate about being given a new one. It reminds Katsuki of his talk with Todoroki just before Deku let him go, about how different soulmate circumstances exist out in the world, and it makes him wonder if Deku maybe doesn’t have scratches over his words, or if he does but no new ones underneath. If either are the case, it’d be cruel to reach out, and Katsuki might be pretty indifferent to Deku, but he’s not a fucking monster. He doesn’t want to re-wreck the guy.
But he feels like he ought to ask. Or maybe he’s just morbidly curious.
“You’ve got this, babe,” Eijirou says, leaning over the back of the couch to kiss at his cheek.
You
When was the last time you removed your binds?
It’s ominous and direct, but it’s already been sent. There’s about an hour wait, and then-
Deku
I take it that it’s not just me?
Katsuki just stares at the messages for a long time, until Eijirou notices, looks over to scan the messages, then bumps his knee to Katsuki’s.
“I don’t know what the hell to say back,” Katsuki mutters. “I wish I never even fucking texted him. What if it’s some fucking ploy to-”
“What, Midoriya? Or the universe?” Eijirou scoffs. “Because I think this-” And he grabs Katsuki’s hand, where their palms open their connection, settle some of the stirrings of uncertainty that’s manifesting as anger in Katsuki’s chest. “-is pretty real. I don’t think even if Midoriya was trying to steal you back or whatever that you’d fall for it now. But you mostly got your answer,” he says with a nod at Katsuki’s phone. “So either text back and ask about it, or let it go. It’s your choice, babe.”
There’s a lot of appeal in just calling it a job done, but there’s that lingering change of pace that Katsuki suffered in his time with Deku, that left him not hating but not loving but somehow weirdly concerned a even fucking year later. Katsuki doesn’t want this to drag out too long, tired from the day already, so he goes with his gut.
“Give me your left wrist,” he says then, gesturing for Eijirou to hold it next to Katsuki’s left so he can take a quick picture.
Hi, I'm Izuku.
Hey, Katsuki?
What’s up, Ei?
He hits send.
You
[attachment: (1) photo]
Deku:
[attachment: (1) photo]
It’s a picture of Deku’s wrists, and Katsuki briefly wonders how the hell Deku took this picture, because they’re both turned up.
I’m Katsuki, I guess. You look just as tired as I always imagined.
Back at you, Deku. I love you.
Deku
I’m happy for you and Kirishima. Really.
You
Looks like you’ll get it, too.
Deku
Yeah. Looks like I will.
You
That’s what you wanted this whole time, right? A soulmate to be your everything and all that crap?
Deku
It’s always been you, though. It just feels weird.
And it’s stupid but I’m sort of sad that my new right is what it is. That’s so many people’s rights and I’ve always been jealous of it. But now I have that but it’s not with you and I’m sad about it and that’s sort of confusing.
Jesus, Katsuki thinks as he reads. Fuck, he really shouldn’t have started this shit over text. Not that he’s some fucking therapist in person, but at least there’s body language and noises and shit to add to a conversation when he doesn’t know what to say.
Deku
But it’s sort of funny to think that I must look pretty terrible when I meet them if that’s what they say when they see me for the first time.
You
Tch. You’re always peppy and shit. You can’t look as bad as this new person thinks, so quit your worrying.
Deku
That’s weirdly kind of you, Kacchan. But I doubt that’s the case. I haven’t gotten much sleep in a while, especially these past couple weeks.
It’s early February, a little past a year since Katsuki left Deku to suffer a shattered heart and soul alone on his couch. He types a response, offers it to Eijirou in question before tapping the send icon. Eijirou smiles, nods, pecks Katsuki’s lips before sending it himself.
You
We could get some lunch or something this weekend. Clear the air if you want.
Deku
What about Kirishima?
You
Shit, we’re just going to talk at a restaurant. He agreed anyway.
Deku
Okay.
Yes, I mean. I would really like that.
“I hope you’re fucking proud of the fucking person you’ve made me,” Katsuki grumbles as he starts figuring out the details of when and where he and Deku are going to meet.
Eijirou just beams, shameless. “I’m always proud of you, Katsuki.”
After graduating, Deku moved like almost everyone else, but only within the city. He’s on the more southern side now, in a denser area that overlooks the sea. The travel is a full hour via train and Katsuki’s back sort of hurts when he finally stretches to his feet when the stop arrives.
Deku really does look like hell.
He’s the first thing Katsuki sees when he steps onto the station, hair dull but wild as ever, and although it looks like he’s showered recently, the way the tips are split all to shit makes Katsuki wonder if today was a special instance. Deku’s skin is pale, making his freckles stand out more than usual, and his eyes are definitely sunken in with graying circles around them. The tee shirt he’s wearing is rumpled but just barely noticeable, and Katsuki is pretty sure the only reason Deku’s in the sport pants he’s wearing is because they’re a wrinkle-free material.
They walk up to each other but don’t say anything. It’s awkward as hell. It’s unheard of, at least to them, what’s happened. Katsuki doesn’t know how to break the ice, and Deku is just staring at him like he’s resigned to a clean execution there in his own hometown.
“Hi,” Deku finally croaks.
“Shit, you sound terrible,” Katsuki says before he can think better of it.
But Deku giggles, like a popping in his throat, and turns toward the street. “Good to see you haven’t changed.”
They fall into step, but Katsuki is letting Deku lead them to the restaurant they agreed on, just like he’s letting Deku lead the pace with what to say. It’s less Katsuki following, though, and more unsure of how to proceed, watching.
“How have things been?” Deku asks, eyes aimed at the sidewalk in front of them.
“Great,” Katsuki grunts.
“Good.”
“You?”
“I have a good job,” Deku says. “I have some plants.”
Yikes, this is depressing. The awkwardness is overwhelming, making Katsuki tense and a little angry, but he bites his tongue, grinds his teeth.
“I take it...you and Kirishima are happy?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. I’m...glad.”
“Right.”
They slow to a stop outside the restaurant, a little place that mostly serves noodle dishes and broths, and Deku sighs wearily.
“Maybe this was a bad idea,” he says quietly. “You don’t want to be here.”
“I wouldn’t have suggested it if I didn’t want to do it. I-” Katsuki pauses to take a breath, steadying the mounting frustration he’s feeling. “I want to you to be okay but I don’t want to give the wrong fucking- I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”
“Kaccha- I mean...Bakugou-”
“Don’t pull that shit. It’s fine.”
“Well-” Deku swallows. “-I promise, I don’t have the wrong idea. I’ve...I’ve come to terms with us not being together. I was even mostly fine after last summer. But when...when the eleventh came...it just hit again, I guess. But I know we’re not going to be together and I can even say with complete honesty that I’m over you.”
Katsuki raises his brows at that.
“No, really,” Deku chuckles sadly. “I got really mad at you after I stopped being so crushed. That helped a lot. I think now I’m just mostly upset that I’ll never get what I always wanted, that connection with someone that’s so special.”
“But you will,” Katsuki says. Though his wrists are exposed, still paler than the rest of his arm, Deku’s are covered by the binds he’s had for over two decades.
“Yeah. I guess I will.” He sighs, rubs at his eyes for a moment before turning and looking Katsuki right in the eye. “I’m not really sure why I said I wanted to do this. Not that I don’t want to see you, but...but-”
“But you don’t want to see me. You can just fucking say that.” His words are a little harsh, but Katsuki chuckles.
Deku grins, and it looks like some of his fatigue gets wiped away when he does. “I was going to say that I feel like the air’s pretty clear. I know how you feel about me, and it’s great that I don’t really have to worry about get murdered anymore-”
Katsuki snorts.
“-but after this past year, I’m also okay with not being with someone that ever felt that way about me at all. Even before our marks changed.” He looks down at the binds on his wrists. “I think it just...it just took something as intense as what happened for me to see that. I had to really get hurt to know that maybe the universe was wrong about us. And...and even though it feels like maybe I died and came back a little worse for wear...after just staring at my new soulmarks for the past week...I...I think I’m actually excited for the future. It’s a little terrifying, though, to think that I’m starting this whole soulmate thing over from the bottom. Like...I don’t want to be with you either anymore, but how do I love someone new when I’ve only thought it could be you my whole life?”
Though Deku is smiling, small and accepting but with a large helping of anxiety, Katsuki feels cornered by the question. He doesn’t know how the fuck he’s supposed to answer that. But the silence stretches between them, growing, Deku looking expectantly to Katsuki, and it slaps him straight across the face that he actually has to. Deku needs him to. And Katsuki is total shit at this stuff, but a year and a half with Eijirou has taught Katsuki enough that he thinks he’ll be able to stumble through this alright.
“I don’t know,” he says slowly. “But destiny or whatever realized its mistake and found someone that’ll be better for you. Obviously you figure it the fuck out.”
It seems like it’s enough, if Deku’s smile widening is anything to go by. “I’ll go put us on the waiting list, okay?” he says instead of replying.
Katsuki nods, and then he’s alone on the street with just the bustling of strangers for company. He breathes in the coming spring air, letting it fill his lungs, then holds it to quell the weirdness still making his chest feel like he’s angry before exhaling all at once.
“Bakugou?”
“The hell?” Katsuki turns his head toward the familiar voice. “Your gay ass didn’t get the hell out of here when you graduated?”
Todoroki just laughs as he continues to approach. They clasp hands when they get close enough, and Todoroki grabs at Katsuki’s opposite shoulder when he does. “It’s good to see you’re still alive and well somewhere. How’s Kirishima?” His smirk goes a little smug, knowing, and Katsuki shoves him back, but it’s good-natured. For the most part.
“Fuck off, he’s fucking great. And-” Katsuki hesitates. There’s no denying that Todoroki accidentally became a really good throwaway account for this shit with Deku, with Eijirou, but two seconds after bumping into one another after a year of real contact and on a crowded weekend street isn’t the time. “-remind me sometime to tell you about it. You and your soul-science will shit yourselves.”
Todoroki’s eyebrows shoot up as his lips twist some. “That right?”
“That’s what I fucking said.”
“That it is.”
“So what the hell are you doing here?”
Todoroki points up the street a little. “I’m getting groceries. I don’t live too far. The company I work for is on this side of the city, so it’s all pretty convenient. What about you? Last I heard, you and Kirishima moved away entirely. What brings you back?”
Katsuki nods at the restaurant. “Getting lunch with Deku, fixing up the last of our bullshit.”
“Ah, the infamous Deku, hm? Where is he?” Todoroki glances back at the front doors. “I’d love to meet the innocent victim you’ve haunted for twenty years. Iida’s always made Midoriya sound like a delight.”
He’s purposely trying to get under Katsuki’s skin, but things are different now. He still rolls his eyes with a groan, though, then sees Deku coming out of the restaurant and spotting them. “Yeah, well now’s your fucking chance.”
Todoroki follows Katsuki’s gaze, finding Deku and there’s definitely a clear appraisal going on as he takes in the complete mess that Deku sort of looks. Katsuki has half a mind to say something, but Deku notices before anything can be said and scrunches his face, looking annoyed as he stares right at Todoroki with a frown. Honestly, he looks angrier than Katsuki’s really seen Deku outside of their own personal fights, defensive from just a single look from a stranger.
He comes close enough to them that they’ve formed a loose triangle on the sidewalk, crosses his arms. Deku huff a little, and his voice comes out a little pleading when he snips, “My gay ass hasn’t slept in three days-”
Oh holy fucking shit, Katsuki thinks as his eyes blow open wide and he jerks to look at Todoroki.
“-I know I look like a disaster, I don’t need the judgement,” Deku keeps saying, and he’s falling into old habits of fidgeting and wiggling as his voice loses some of its edge, sounding more embarrassed than mad as he keeps talking. He doesn’t seem to realize that Todoroki has turned into a total statue, that the stranger he’s babbling to has stopped breathing. “Look, I’m sorry, I just...man, I’ve been off and that wasn’t fair to snap at you. I- maybe I should start over.” Deku digs his fingers into his eyes, then sighs and offers out a hand. “Hi, I’m Izuku Midoriya. How do you know Kacchan?”
Todoroki just stares, lips parted minutely. His mismatched eyes flicker over to Bakugou, who has no fucking clue what the hell he’s supposed to offer, so he just sort of nods vaguely, takes an instinctive step back as Todoroki opens his mouth.
His voice is soft, a little exasperated. “You look just as tired as I always imagined.”
Even when Katsuki showed up on Deku’s doorstep, he’s sure he’s never seen Deku look as shocked as he does now. It’s like a physical slap across the face, how his expression ripples from mild irritation to utter drowning, almost horror for how caught off guard he is. His eyes dart between Katsuki and Todoroki and his mouth opens and closes, the starts and stops of several incomplete words popping in the supercharged air between the three of them. Finally, at Katsuki’s grimace for how fucking awkward this whole thing is with him fucking witnessing it, Deku gulps and asks Katsuki, “Who is this?”
“Shouto Todoroki,” Katsuki answers evenly.
“This is Todoroki?” Deku asks, gesturing a little wildly before turning his attention to Todoroki himself. “We- like- a lot of my friends know you. I think everyone I know knows you. I’ve heard your name for years.”
“As have I,” Todoroki says. He sounds like he’s still struggling to breathe properly, but at least he doesn’t look like he’s about to throw up like Deku does. “I’ve always heard about Midoriya and how I ought to meet him sometime.”
“How have we not? Why have we not?”
“Fate, apparently,” Todoroki replies, and Katsuki knows that it’s exactly what Deku needs to hear.
There’s a long moment of quiet in which Todoroki and Deku stare at one another, both open-mouthed and with similar shades of lingering surprise in their eyes. Katsuki knows he’s been forgotten there in the street, and he’s glad for it, takes another small step back to just let this play out without him too much in the scene.
“Do...do you want to talk?” Todoroki asks. “Get some food, or- wait.” He blinks, shakes his head a little, then looks to Katsuki. “I’m sorry. This- you two were meeting just now, right? I can-”
“No no!” Deku interrupts, eyes finding Katsuki’s. There’s not so much a question as a statement in there. “I- we- let’s talk.”
“Yeah,” Katsuki says, hearing Deku’s unspoken words loud and clear and more than willing to oblige them. “Deku and I mostly got our shit figured out anyway. You two losers get gross and enjoy.” But he’s saying it without any bite, keeping Deku’s gaze as he does, knowing that fucking finally, after more than two decades and the shittiest soulmate story, that Deku just gets it, gets him.
“Thank you, Kacchan.”
And in return, Katsuki gets him back. Because this was what Deku really wanted all these years. It was never Katsuki. Not really. It was the experience, the magic of that first meeting, the sense of belonging, of understanding. This is everything Deku has wanted out of the ink of his wrists, and he can finally have it, with someone Katsuki knows has always sought the same thing.
“I’ll text you sometime about what you mentioned,” Todoroki says.
“Whenever, doesn’t matter.” Katsuki turns away, back toward the train station from which he just left, waves over his shoulder as he calls, “Don’t lose your virginity in the bathroom, you fucking nasties.”
There’s a pair of embarrassed sputtering behind him, and Katsuki just laughs to himself, feeling lighter than he has probably ever. It’s annoying as hell that it took this long, that it hurt as much as it did, that he has to get right back on the train and wasted an entire day, but Katsuki finally, finally, fucking finally, feels like it’s over. The ink on his wrists is settled, no longer burns, just hums with contentment like the steady and rhythmic beats of his heart as he makes his way home, makes his way back to where he was always meant to be, back to Eijirou Kirishima.