Chapter Text
Things had been the epitome of bad since their fight at the library.
Izuku was relieved.
He may have still been stuck to Katsuki, but they didn’t talk, didn’t do so much as even look at each other.
Katsuki began to grow closer to his classmates. Over time, his constant complaining at their attention faded into only the occasional grunt about hanging out with them, and then into nothing. By the time he’d been there for half a year, he had almost completely integrated into the school.
He watched Katsuki get everything the two had dreamed up for each other.
A part of Izuku almost wished he would get jealous. It would be easier if he could rage and shout at Katsuki until he got over whatever baggage was tying him to earth, and move on.
The stay was bad for him. Every day that passed since his death, he could feel himself growing wearier. It was an odd sensation.
By the end of Katsuki’s first semester, the two seemed both closer and further than ever.
The silence finally broke in August.
The days were long and excruciating. Heat seemed to seep into the walls. Spring had been lukewarm, and July had been cool, so Izuku wasn’t even sure if he would be able to feel the temperature with his death.
He was quickly answered.
With the weather being what it was, nobody was going anywhere. Katsuki and Izuku were no exception, and there was only so long the two could avoid each other when they were confined to the air conditioning.
It happened when Katsuki was cooking.
His parents were off at work, but the break between semesters had finally taken place, which meant no distractions for Katsuki. His friends hadn’t come to visit his house yet, and Izuku had been wondering if he would visit them instead.
He tried not to think too much about how much the thought bothered him.
“You’re going to break a plate like that.” Those were the first words Izuku said after two months of silence. Katsuki was slamming plates around the kitchen. It was a habit he picked up to fill their silences, considering Izuku couldn’t leave.
His entire body froze at Izuku’s words, the sound dying out so that silence echoed around the two.
“I don’t think your parents would be happy if they came home to broken dishes,” Izuku added.
“What are you doing?” asked Katsuki weakly.
“Helping,” replied Izuku.
Silence hung over them for a while after. They worked in sync, just like they always had. Even when they didn’t want to. It was the nature of the two of them to read each other perfectly.
When they finished, they stood beside each other awkwardly, both staring at the counter in front of them instead of at each other. It was easier that way. If they looked at each other, they would have to finally say the words they had been dancing around since the moment Izuku’s feet left that rooftop.
“I’m sorry,” Katsuki finally broke the silence.
Izuku turned to him eyes wide, and was surprised to see his former friend’s eyes watering.
“I never did give you a proper apology, did I, Izuku?” he asked.
Not Deku. Not useless nerd. Izuku.
His name always sounded right when Katsuki said it. It had been so long that he had almost forgotten just how beautiful his name could sound.
“I never needed an apology,” Izuku said. His entire body felt different. More solid, perhaps. Like he was being filled with warmth. “I just wanted to be friends with you. You were my hero, Kacchan.”
Katsuki snorted. “Don’t lie.”
“I’m not.” Red eyes searched green, desperate for some chance of that being untrue, but all Katsuki found was the determination that had always frightened him about Izuku. “I looked up to you. It was all I could do.”
“I’m a pretty shitty hero then, huh?” Katsuki mumbled. Izuku shrugged.
“You don’t have to be,” he said. “You could be better. Choose to let people in instead of pushing them away constantly.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Katsuki grumbled. “None of it’s gonna bring you back.”
It felt like a slap in the face. Being reminded that he was dead was surprisingly uncomfortable, and yet there also seemed to be a release inside Izuku that came with the acknowledgement.
“I can’t take back my choices,” Izuku said. “And there’s no future for me to try and make it right now. You still have time.” Reaching out, he slowly slipped his hand into Katsuki’s. His former friend looked at him with wide eyes, searching for something. He could only hope that Katsuki would find it.
“Don’t waste that time berating yourself. Be nice to people,” Izuku continued, stepping so close to Katsuki that they were nose to nose, breathing the same air. Only, Izuku couldn’t breathe anymore. What a strange thing.
“Easier said than done,” Katsuki grunted, staring at Izuku’s lips. Izuku didn’t even register that he was doing the same.
“You don’t have to keep being the person you were with me at your new school,” Izuku said, reaching up to touch Katsuki’s cheek. His fingers brushed against the soft skin of Katsuki’s cheek, blond hair running through his hand. “At the very least, you owe me that much.”
“I don’t know how I’m gonna live without you,” Katsuki said, so quietly that Izuku almost didn’t catch it. “I feel like my whole life, I turn around and you’re there.”
Izuku tried to avoid tearing up at the statement. He wanted to go back in time, walk off that roof, and run straight to Katsuki’s house. He wanted to confess the feelings that had been weighing him down since they hit middle school. He wanted to take back the years they had spent hurting each other.
But he also knew that his earlier advice had been right. There was no turning back the clock. He was gone, and Katsuki needed to accept that.
“Izuku?” Katsuki asked, voice wavering.
When Izuku looked down, he saw his entire body shimmering with white light. He felt the warmth from earlier spreading to the rest of his limbs, filling him up like he was being submerged in a warm bath.
“No, no, no,” Katsuki was muttering. “No, you can’t leave yet! I need you!”
“You don’t need me,” Izuku said, a calm washing over him. There was no undoing what was done, but for the first time, he actually trusted Katsuki to keep going without him. “You’ll be fine. Trust me.”
“But-” Katsuki choked, his eyes watering.
Just before Izuku disappeared, he leaned forward, placing a gentle peck on Katsuki’s lips. It tasted salty with tears, from him or Katsuki he didn’t know, but he didn’t care. His first and last kiss would belong to one person only.
He opened his eyes with their lips pressed together, green meeting red as all the events that had led up to this moment flashed through his mind.
And then he was gone.
*
Katsuki’s parents didn’t know why he was sobbing on the kitchen floor, and he wouldn’t tell them.
It wasn’t fair. Deku got to go off into the afterlife and do… whatever people did in the afterlife, while Katsuki was stuck living. He wished he was dead, so at least they could both be gone.
His mother pulled him into a hug, and he tried not to worry about what she would think when, instead of pushing her away like always, he leaned in, wrapping his arms tightly around her and hoping she would at least tether him to life.
After that day, life seemed to pass quicker. His days sped by, and before he knew it he was graduating high school, ready to go out in the world and apprentice at Mirio’s agency.
It was a happy life, for the most part. He was a good hero. Not amazing, sure, but good. Competent. That was all he needed to be.
Some nights, he even liked to pretend he believed that sentiment.
Kirishima and Kaminari grew more worried about him as the years wore on. By their third year, they seemed to be on alternating shifts, checking in every night with him. Mina wasn’t much better, finding any excuse possible to sit beside him in classes.
The seat in front of him was occupied by Todoroki, and he tried to ignore how every now and then he could have sworn he saw green instead of red and white when he looked up from his notebooks.
Mostly, people didn’t question him. They knew something happened to him after Izuku left, something that could never be taken back. Something had changed in the way he held himself, the gleam in his eye a bit more faded. What used to be a relentless spirit to push forward had become a slow trudge through the mundanity of life, trying to get himself from one day to the next.
But he was fine! That was his response whenever he was asked. He wasn’t a very popular hero, but he was good at his job so his quiet unfriendliness could be overlooked most of the time.
He tried to live by the last words Izuku said to him. Went to therapy, got his anger under control. Instead of an explosive hothead, now he was just quiet and brooding. That was how the media branded him. The silent mystery hero.
No matter what, he didn’t visit the grave. It would have been too much. The last time he went there was the funeral, and he had company that time.
It took him ten years to break that promise.
It was a day like any other, in mid winter. The cold made Katsuki shiver through his hero suit, trying anything to work up a sweat. He saved two young civilians from a villain attack, sending the guy to jail as he watched the kids run off. They couldn’t have been older than middle school age, and the thought made his heart ache.
Thoughts of Izuku weren’t a constant in his life anymore. There was too much to be done. Deadlines to meet, quotas to fill. But his old friend flickered in his mind as he watched the kids he saved thank him, and run away hand in hand.
So, before he could think through his decision too much, he was walking through the city back to his hero agency, stripping his uniform off, and placing a cap over his unruly blond hair, with black sunglasses to hide his eyes. He needed to look like any other civilian if he wanted to go unnoticed.
To get there, he had to pass by his parent’s house, which also meant passing by the Midoriya house.
Or, what used to be the Midoriya house. There was a new swingset in the yard out front, lights hung up in the window for the holidays. Inko Midoriya moved out when Katsuki graduated, giving him a tight hug before she climbed into her car and he watched the last of Izuku’s living family drive away.
She couldn’t stay there anymore. He understood. His parents saw him once a year, which had become the standard for their relationship.
He ducked his head down as he walked past, trying to avoid anything that would draw attention to himself. It wasn’t worth his mother’s lecture, his father’s sad stare.
The graveyard looked just like he remembered it, but it felt different. Wider, emptier without the presence of someone at his side. He paused at the gates of it, considering a retreat back to his apartment. He could pretend he never decided to come, read a book and turn in for the night. Go to work the next day like nothing had happened.
But his feet didn’t move, and he took a deep breath. He didn’t want to run anymore.
Izuku’s grave was nice.
Stone, alabaster, to be specific. It had his name in large, looping letters, and a small image at the bottom right corner. A daisy.
Katsuki pulled the daisy he bought on the way over out of his pocket, placing it near the small engraving, and sat down in front of the grave.
“Hey, Izuku,” he said, glancing around quickly to make sure nobody was listening. When he saw that there was no one else nearby, he continued. “I just wanted to say hi. I guess. I’m not actually sure why I came here, or why I’m pretending to talk to you when you’re dead. This has all been kind of an impulse decision, but my therapist told me following impulse decisions could help me figure out my emotions, so here I am, I guess.
“I still sort of hate you for dying on me. I mean, I’m all alone now and you get to relax and not worry about anything because you’re dead. How lucky is that. Not that it’s lucky you’re dead, just… ugh. This is why I didn’t want to come here.
“I have friends, you know. Lots of them. I don’t really know what to do about that. I mean, I didn’t ask for them, they just showed up regardless of if I wanted them or not. Shitty Hair is my favourite, but don’t tell him that. His wedding is next month, actually, to Pinky. They’ve been going out since high school, so it’s insane that they waited this long to get married, right? I mean, not that you would know. You only saw them for a minute.
“I still don’t know if that was actually you, or just some weird fever-dream hallucination. My therapist thinks it was a hallucination brought on by PTSD and guilt, but I don’t believe her. Not really. You were too real, too much like you. You’re different in my dreams compared to how you acted then. It sucks.
“I wonder about what you would have been like, sometimes. If you would have been different from how you were. Of course you would be different now if you survived. Everybody changes as they grow, it’s just life. But that’s not what I mean. You know what I mean, right? You always did. I used to hate that about you. It was the most annoying thing in the world. I would wish you’d just shut up and stop knowing what I was thinking before I thought it.
“It’s lonely. It’s so lonely, Izuku. They all know me, but they don’t get me, not like… not like you. God, I sound pathetic. At least you can’t tell anyone about this.
“This sucks. You should be telling me off for being stupid right now, not stuck there like some stupid stone. Tell me how idiotic I’m being. Tell me how stupid I am, how wrong I am, how much you admire me. Call me Kacchan again. Nobody calls me that anymore. Life is so simple and quiet without you. I hate it. I can’t stand it. You were there and then you weren’t and nothing is the same anymore and it sucks. It’s not… it’s not worth it without you. None of it is. Would you feel like this if I was the one who died? I wish I was the one who died.
“I’m sorry. I wish I could take it back. Mostly I just wish you were here. I wish you were with me.”
Katsuki wasn’t sure when he started crying, but he was, the tears dripping down onto his shirt and leaving dark stains behind them.
He wiped them away slowly, and rose to his feet, brushing a hand over the top of the grave.
A lifetime was a quick thing to pass by, and Katsuki let it pass him by as quickly as possible. The older he got, the riskier he made his missions, much to the protest of his friends. He had flings, short relationships, but nothing serious. Eventually, the protests slowed to a stop as his friends gave up, the media documented his spiral, and he let himself follow his impulses.
He visited Izuku’s grave once a year until his death.
It was a quiet thing, surprisingly. Old, and hospitalised, and surrounded by his friends. Passing in his sleep. It was lucky, they said. All Katsuki could remember was closing his eyes.
When he opened them again, he was standing beside his body, watching his friends cry quietly. He felt lighter, years of arthritis and fatigue gone in a second as he stared at his hands. The door to his hospital room no longer led out to the hospital, but glowed a soft white, urging him towards it.
He let himself take one last look back, at his friends and family, and smile. Then, he walked through the door.
Even though he knew who would be waiting for him, it was still a surprise. All the years, and he hadn’t changed. When Katsuki looked down at his body, he saw that he was in his old gakuran, his body that of his thirteen year old self.
He walked forwards, taking the outstretched hand that was waiting for him.
“It’s been a long time,” he said. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too, Kacchan.”