Chapter Text
Katsuki wakes with a gasp, lungs pulling in air as though he’s been drowning. His chest rises and falls too fast, his heart hammering violently against his ribs as his vision swims, a kaleidoscope of white blotting out the edges of his sight. The world feels unsteady, and for a fleeting moment, he’s unsure of where he is—his senses bombarded by disorientation.
The ceiling comes into focus first—plain, white, familiar. Too familiar. The dorms. UA. His bed. His room.
The weight of that realization crashes down on him all at once, and his breath catches, his stomach churning. His hands clench into the sheets beneath him, fingers trembling as the remnants of panic cling to him like a fog. The echoes of that other world, that other future, still buzz in the back of his mind, a nagging hum that refuses to go quiet. His body feels electric, every nerve on fire, urging him to move, to run, to escape from whatever might be coming next. But he doesn’t. Not yet.
Instead, he forces himself upright, his head pounding with the effort, and drags his hands over his face, trying to wipe away the residue of the nightmare—the dark memories clinging to him like smoke. His hands fall to his lap, trembling faintly as they rest there, his fingers curled into fists as though to ground himself.
He’s back. He’s here.
The relief that floods him is overwhelming, almost unbearable, like he’s surfaced from the deepest, darkest depths of the ocean only to find himself gasping for air. But beneath it, there’s something darker, more jagged, something churning deep in his gut. The feeling of loss is still there, sharp and cruel, gnawing at his insides. He grinds his teeth together, the pressure making his jaw ache.
The memories don’t leave him. They hover at the edges of his mind like a shadow, lingering just outside of reach, threatening to pull him back into that place, into that future. That Izuku.
Katsuki shuts his eyes, his breath hitching at the thought. The hollow look in Izuku’s eyes, the emptiness that had taken root there. The way Izuku’s smile had never quite reached his eyes, never had the warmth it used to. The sound of his voice—so careful, so distant, like he'd become a ghost, something Katsuki couldn’t touch anymore. It cuts into him, a raw wound that refuses to heal.
He sits up straighter, his whole body rigid with the weight of everything unsaid. The thought of Izuku—his Izuku—gone... it’s unbearable.
Katsuki’s breath hitches again, and without thinking, he shoves the blanket off in one violent motion, the action so sudden and desperate that the sheets hit the floor with a soft rustle. He swings his legs over the side of the bed, his bare feet meeting the cold floor, but it does nothing to ground him. The air feels too thick, the pressure in his chest suffocating. He can’t breathe—he can’t think about that future, about the Izuku who hadn’t looked at him like he meant anything anymore.
The thought lingers for a moment longer, too painful to dismiss, and then he snaps into action. There’s no time to waste. He can’t let this happen again. He won’t let it happen.
He grabs his phone off the bedside table, the motion clumsy as his fingers shake. He checks the date, his thumb slipping over the screen with frantic urgency.
It’s Saturday.
His heart skips a beat, and before he can process anything else, the phone slips from his hands, falling soundlessly onto the mattress. He stares down at the screen, his entire body tense as the tightness in his chest coils tighter, an almost physical pain. He can’t—he won’t—let that be their future.
The vision of that broken Izuku flashes in his mind again, sharp and unrelenting.
'Kacchan... we’re not the most important people in each other’s lives anymore.'
It wasn’t the Izuku he knew. The Izuku who followed him with wide, shining eyes, with an unwavering fire in his heart. The Izuku who smiled like he had the whole damn world at his feet, like Katsuki could do no wrong. The Izuku who had loved him, despite everything. It hadn’t been Izuku. Not the one Katsuki had once known.
And it had been his fault. Every bit of it. He's sure of it. The guilt crashes into him again, a heavy weight that presses him down.
“Shit,” he hisses, the curse harsh and jagged as he shoves himself to his feet. His heart pounds like an explosion waiting to happen, each beat pushing him forward, demanding that he do something. If he doesn’t fix this now, if he doesn’t say the words he’s been holding in for years—everything he’s buried, everything he’s kept locked away—he knows what will happen. He’ll lose Izuku. And if that happens, it’ll be his fault, and it will be the end of everything he’s fought for.
His feet are bare against the cold floor, but he doesn’t feel it. The chill is nothing compared to the fire in his chest. His body is alive with urgency, a need that won’t stop until he has what he wants, what he needs. He barrels out of the room and into the hallway, his pace quickening with every step, the weight of each one dragging him down even as his feet pound against the floor.
The hallway is empty, and he doesn’t spare it a second glance as he heads straight for Izuku’s room. He skids to a stop in front of the door and slams his fist against it, the force rattling the frame.
“DEKU!” he shouts, his voice raw, desperate, cracking at the edges. “GET OUT HERE!”
There’s no answer, just a suffocating silence.
“Deku!” He slams his fist against the door again, harder this time. “Open up, damn it!”
A low, tired voice cuts through the quiet, interrupting his fury. “Bakugou, he’s not in there.”
Katsuki spins around, his breath catching in his throat. Tokoyami stands a few doors down, his feathers ruffled, his expression flat but somehow concerned.
“Midoriya’s in the common room. Now shut up before you wake the whole dorm.”
Before Tokoyami can say another word, Katsuki’s already running again, his feet slamming against the stairs as he takes them two at a time, every step feeling like it takes a lifetime.
He bursts into the common room like a force of nature, his chest heaving, his whole body taut with the need to fix everything that’s broken. And there he is.
Izuku.
Sitting on the couch, mid-conversation with Iida and Uraraka, hands gesturing wildly as he explains something with that ridiculous, animated expression he always wears. His green eyes are bright, and his cheeks are dimpled by the grin on his face. He looks exactly the same as he always has—unbearably, infuriatingly, Izuku.
Katsuki’s breath stutters in his chest, and for just a moment, his feet refuse to move.
'I almost lost him. In another world, I did lose him.'
The thought slices through him like a blade, and before he can process it, he’s moving again.
“Deku,” he growls, his voice low and sharp, filled with the weight of everything he’s feeling, everything he needs to say.
The room falls silent.
Izuku freezes, blinking up at him in surprise. “K-Kacchan? What—”
“Come with me.”
“Kacchan, wait, what are you—?”
Katsuki doesn’t give him a chance to finish. His hands dart out and grab Izuku’s wrist with a firm but careful grip, pulling him to his feet.
“Hey!” Uraraka calls after him, her voice filled with alarm. “Bakugou, what—”
“None of your business!” Katsuki snaps over his shoulder, his cheeks hot as he drags Izuku toward the door, his irritation seeping into his voice, though the urgency driving him forward is all-consuming. “Stay out of it!”
Izuku stumbles after him, his protests falling on deaf ears, but Katsuki doesn’t care. He drags him outside, the crisp morning air biting at their skin, but it does nothing to cool the fire burning inside him. He releases Izuku’s wrist as soon as they’re clear of the building, spinning around to face him.
“Kacchan, what the hell is going on?” Izuku demands, rubbing at his wrist, his face flushed with confusion and frustration. “Why are you acting—”
“I love you.”
The words explode out of him, raw and unfiltered, a confession so desperate it almost hurts to say them. For a moment, the world feels like it’s stopped. Time freezes, and all he can hear is his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.
Izuku’s eyes widen, his lips parting as he stares at him, utterly stunned.
“Kacchan…”
“Shut up,” Katsuki snaps, his voice cracking with emotion. He grabs Izuku by the shoulders, his grip tight but trembling, as if he might shatter at any second. “Listen to me, damn it! I’m not losing you. Not now, not ever. I don’t give a damn what you think this is—I mean it. I love you.”
Izuku stares up at him, his cheeks flushed, his expression a whirlwind of disbelief and something else Katsuki can’t quite name.
“I… Kacchan…” Izuku breathes, barely audible, as if trying to process what he’s just heard.
The door creaks open behind them, followed by the unmistakable sound of footsteps and whispered voices. Katsuki doesn’t bother turning around, but when Mina’s voice cuts through the air, his eye twitches in irritation.
“Told you it’d be a love confession,” she whispers, clearly unable to hide the glee in her voice.
“EXTRAS, GO BACK INSIDE!” Katsuki roars, his voice cracking as he shields his face with his hand, the heat of embarrassment coloring his cheeks.
Izuku laughs softly, the sound shaky but warm, and when Katsuki looks at him again, he sees it—Izuku.
“I… I’ll think about it,” Izuku says softly, his cheeks still flushed. “Okay, Kacchan?”
It’s not a yes.
But it’s not a no either.
“We can think about it together,” Katsuki mutters, his voice softer now, the fierce energy still buzzing through him. “But I’m not letting you run away from this without an answer.”
Katsuki barrels down the hallway, his hand locked firmly around Izuku’s wrist as if letting go might cause the world to unravel. His grip is unyielding, a force that demands attention, and Izuku stumbles behind him, struggling to keep up. The corridor is alive with voices—classmates chatting, laughing, and shouting—but Katsuki’s focus is unwavering. He doesn’t even seem to notice the commotion, his entire world narrowed down to the person next to him.
“So it’s official, huh?” Kaminari hollers from behind them, his voice ringing out with teasing excitement, drawing the attention of everyone around them.
“Guess Blasty finally confessed!” Mina adds with her usual carefree humor, her voice louder than it should be, practically echoing off the walls.
Katsuki’s lip curls into a snarl at the sound of their voices, but he doesn’t look back. “Shut the hell up!” he snaps over his shoulder, his words sharp enough to cut through the noise. His usual arrogance is laced with something deeper—something desperate. “Not your goddamn business!”
Izuku stumbles to match Katsuki’s pace, his feet tripping over each other as the heat in his face intensifies. It’s a mix of exertion, embarrassment, and something he can’t quite name. He can feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on them, their laughter and curious whispers, and his stomach twists. “Kacchan, wait—where are we going? Why are you—”
“Not here,” Katsuki barks, his voice tight, strained. There’s something about the urgency in his tone, the way his fingers dig into Izuku’s wrist, that makes Izuku’s words falter. He doesn’t dare ask more, swallowing his confusion and following in silence. The look on Katsuki’s face is unreadable—eyes hard, jaw clenched, like he’s holding back something dangerous.
The walk to Katsuki’s dorm feels like it stretches on for hours. Every step, every breath, feels too loud in the quiet between them. The tension in the air is thick enough to taste, swirling around them in a way that makes Izuku’s chest tighten with anxiety. His thoughts race, trying to catch up with the situation, but every time he thinks he might have a hold on it, Katsuki pulls him forward again, dragging him along as if the very act of slowing down might make everything fall apart.
Finally, they reach Katsuki’s dorm. Katsuki slams the door shut behind them with a force that rattles the walls, the sound echoing far too loudly in the suddenly quiet room. The harsh bang of the door’s impact sends a shiver down Izuku’s spine, and he’s almost afraid to breathe, afraid to move. The space between them is heavy, thick with unspoken words, and Izuku’s heart pounds in his chest, so loud it drowns out everything else.
Katsuki doesn’t release his grip on Izuku’s wrist until they’re standing right in front of his bed. With a grunt, Katsuki practically throws Izuku onto the mattress, his hands still trembling as he pushes him down. The force of it is more than enough to send Izuku stumbling backward, landing unceremoniously on the bed. Katsuki doesn’t give him time to adjust—his voice is already sharp and demanding as he orders, “Sit.”
Izuku blinks, his mind racing as he automatically obeys, his body moving without thinking. He perches on the edge of the bed, hands twisted in his lap, fingers fumbling with the fabric of his uniform. His eyes dart around the room before landing on Katsuki, his gaze filled with confusion and something else—a flicker of concern that grows stronger the more he watches his friend.
Katsuki is pacing now, his boots stomping across the floor in a rhythm that doesn’t match the frantic beat of Izuku’s heart. His hands are buried in his hair, raking through the strands as he mutters under his breath, too quietly for Izuku to hear clearly.
Izuku’s heart jumps in his throat as he catches snippets of Katsuki’s words: “stupid extras,” “fucking feelings,” “not screwing this up.” They don’t make sense, but the urgency in Katsuki’s movements—the way his muscles tense and his brow furrows—tells Izuku that something’s wrong. Something’s happening, and Katsuki’s not the same as usual.
Before Izuku can ask more, Katsuki stops dead in his tracks. There’s a sudden stillness in the air, and Izuku feels it—like the entire world is holding its breath. The moment hangs between them, charged with something electric. Katsuki whirls to face him, his eyes wide and fierce, but there’s something in them—something vulnerable—that makes Izuku’s stomach flip.
“Listen, nerd,” Katsuki growls, his voice rough and trembling with an intensity that shatters the stillness in the room. His words are like a lash, sharp and fierce, but there’s a desperate edge to them. “I’m gonna say this again, and this time, you’re gonna shut up and listen. Got it?”
Izuku blinks up at him, startled, the words catching in his throat. His heart hammers in his chest, every beat louder than the last. “O-Okay,” he stammers, too overwhelmed to do anything but nod.
Katsuki takes a deep, shuddering breath, like he’s about to dive into a fight. His eyes lock onto Izuku’s, the weight of his stare burning into Izuku’s skin. For a moment, neither of them moves. And then, without warning, Katsuki’s voice breaks the silence.
“I love you, Izuku.” The words crash into Izuku like a tidal wave, blunt and unforgiving. They hit harder than anything he’s ever heard from Katsuki. “I already told you, but I’m saying it again, ‘cause I mean it. I fucking love you.”
Izuku’s breath catches in his throat, his eyes wide as his mind races to process what just happened. His chest tightens painfully, a dizzying rush of emotions flooding him. Before he can even form a response, Katsuki’s words come tumbling out in a torrent, faster than Izuku can keep up with.
“And I need you to say yes,” Katsuki continues, his voice rising, cracking with a raw urgency. “Say yes so we can just start dating already and—shit—so everyone will shut the hell up and leave us alone. Then we can focus on the important stuff, like being hero partners in the future and—” Katsuki falters, his face flushing a deep red as his gaze drops, his voice lowering. “—living together. Or whatever. Just—just staying together. Forever.”
Izuku’s chest feels like it’s caving in. His thoughts are a whirlwind, spinning too fast to catch any one thing. The words hit him like blows, each one adding to the confusion that’s already building inside him. “Kacchan, you just got back—are you okay? Did something happen while you were—”
“I’ll tell you later,” Katsuki interrupts, his voice rough, his breath coming too quickly. “Not now. Right now, you just—you need to know this. I need you to know how much you mean to me.”
Katsuki steps forward, his movements stiff, fists clenched tightly at his sides. His fiery gaze is still burning, but there’s something else in his eyes now—something softer, something raw that Izuku’s never seen before. It makes his heart ache, a twist of longing and fear winding around it.
“Because I suck at this shit,” Katsuki admits quietly, his voice cracking with emotion. “I know I’ve been a shitty person to you for years, but I can’t—” He pauses, his throat working as he swallows hard, like the words are too big for him to force out. “I can’t lose you, Izuku.”
Izuku feels his chest tighten, every word sinking into him like a heavy weight. He doesn’t know what to do—whether to cry, to run, to speak, but his thoughts are tangled and his heart is in his throat. He reaches out, but the words die on his lips. Instead, he just watches Katsuki, his eyes wide, his heart aching with confusion and something else—a flicker of hope that he’s terrified to acknowledge.
“All my life,” Katsuki continues, his voice quieter now, his gaze falling to the floor, “you’ve been there. Always right next to me. Even when I didn’t deserve it. Even when I told you to fuck off, you stayed. You kept chasing after me, believing in me, even when I thought you were mocking me.” He looks up then, his gaze intense and unguarded. “But you weren’t. You were always there for me, even when I was too much of a fucking idiot to see it.”
Izuku doesn’t know what to say. He’s never seen Katsuki like this—never heard him speak with such vulnerability, such rawness. His mind races, but there’s one truth that sinks in, deep and undeniable. Katsuki is here, pouring out everything he’s held inside, and Izuku knows, in that moment, that everything between them is about to change forever.
Izuku doesn’t even realize he’s crying until the first tear drips onto his lap, a silent, traitorous drop that stings against his skin. The unexpected rush of emotion is so overwhelming that his chest tightens with the weight of it. He looks down, blinking rapidly, trying to will the tears back, but they keep falling—each one heavier than the last. His breath hitches, unsteady, as he reaches out with trembling hands and takes Katsuki’s.
“Kacchan,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion, cracking at the sound of the name, a name he’s said so many times, but never with this weight, never with so much heart. His chest aches with the things he’s never said, the things he’s kept buried for so long.
Katsuki stiffens at the touch, and for a fleeting moment, Izuku wonders if he’s made a mistake. But then he feels it—Katsuki’s hands are warm, trembling slightly in his grip. The heat, the steady pulse beneath his fingers, reassures him that he hasn’t pushed him away. That this is real.
“I—” Izuku starts, but the words feel thick in his throat, like they’re getting caught in the storm of everything he’s been holding back. His breath shudders as he tries again, his voice faltering. “I love you too. I always have.” He laughs shakily, swiping at his eyes with the back of his sleeve, not caring about the mess he’s making of himself. “But I thought—I thought you hated me. I thought if I just ignored my feelings, they’d go away eventually.” He looks down, ashamed of how long he’s let himself believe that. The tears keep coming, a steady stream, and he’s afraid it’ll never stop.
Katsuki’s eyes narrow slightly, the fury in them now directed inward as if the weight of Izuku’s words hit him harder than he anticipated. His lips curl in a snarl, but when he speaks, it’s with a force that rips through the tension in the room, a promise wrapped in his signature gruffness. “Don’t,” he growls, his voice fierce, raw. He steps closer, his large, calloused hands closing around Izuku’s with an intensity that makes Izuku’s breath catch. “Don’t you ever try to get over me, nerd. You’re not allowed. You’re stuck with me, forever.”
Izuku’s heart stutters at the words, and then it flutters, this strange, beautiful thing that won’t stop beating in his chest. He can’t help the soft, joyous laugh that spills from his lips—a sound that carries so much relief, so much warmth. It’s like the world has shifted into place, like everything he’s been dreaming of, everything he’s been longing for, is finally coming true. “Alright, Kacchan. Forever.”
And just as the words settle between them, Katsuki surges forward. There’s no hesitation, no thought. He wraps his arms around Izuku with a fierce, crushing force, pulling him against him like he’s afraid of losing him again. The sudden movement knocks them both backward onto the bed, the impact sending a jolt of surprise through Izuku, but he doesn’t resist. He clings to Katsuki as if he’s been waiting for this moment his whole life. His arms come up instinctively, wrapping around Katsuki in return, pulling him closer, deeper.
Katsuki buries his face in Izuku’s shoulder, his voice muffled but no less powerful. “I’m serious, Izuku,” he whispers, almost like a prayer, like a plea. “Don’t ever leave me.”
Izuku’s fingers thread gently through Katsuki’s hair, a slow, soothing motion that feels both comforting and overwhelming in the best way. “I won’t,” he whispers back, his voice steady despite the tears still rolling down his face. “I promise.”
Katsuki lifts his head, his eyes glistening with unshed tears of his own, and Izuku can see the rawness in them, the vulnerability that Katsuki rarely lets show. His voice shakes when he speaks, but there’s no mistaking the urgency. “Say it again,” he demands, his hands gripping Izuku’s arms like they’re his lifeline. “Tell me you love me.”
Izuku smiles through his tears, his heart swelling with an emotion that feels too big for his chest. He reaches up, cupping Katsuki’s face gently in his hands. His thumb traces the line of Katsuki’s jaw, memorizing the feel of him, grounding himself in the present. “I love you, Kacchan,” he says softly, the words flowing easily now, as natural as breathing. “Always have, always will.”
The confession lingers in the air, heavy and sweet, and Katsuki doesn’t waste a second. He crashes his lips against Izuku’s, a kiss that’s messy, desperate, full of the things they’ve never said before. Izuku melts into it, his heart pounding in his chest, his arms tightening around Katsuki as if he’s afraid to let go. The kiss deepens, desperate and unrestrained, their tears mingling together as they cling to each other, finding comfort in the closeness.
In between kisses, Katsuki mumbles against Izuku’s lips, his voice frantic, like he’s trying to make sure this moment doesn’t slip away. “Promise me… you’ll stay… forever. Promise me, damn it.”
Izuku’s breath catches, but he doesn’t hesitate. His voice is filled with everything he’s kept buried for so long—love, longing, hope. “I promise,” he breathes, pressing a soft kiss to Katsuki’s forehead. “Forever, Kacchan. Always.”
It’s everything Katsuki needs to hear. His heart swells, and for the first time in a long while, he feels like everything is finally right in the world. He pulls Izuku closer, kissing him again, not caring about the mess of their emotions, the tears, the weight of everything they’ve been through. In this moment, there’s nothing but them—together, finally, after everything. And Katsuki knows, without a doubt, that he’s finally right where he belongs, and he desperately hopes his future self will find his place with his Izuku, too.