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The sixth time it happens again, Izuku feels like he’s waist-deep in the freezing waters of the Atlantic.

With an area of about a hundred million square kilometers, it covers approximately twenty percent of the Earth’s surface separating the Old World and the New World. It proves to be a good metaphor for the three-meter distance between the two of them right now. With his hands clenched on his sides, green eyes wordlessly watched the other put on his shoes, jacket in one hand. He feels cold – like the ocean’s latitudinal distribution of solar energy ranging from below negative two Celsius.

With his head under eight thousand meters deep, Izuku struggles to open his mouth and speak.

“Where… Where are you going, Kacchan?”

Red – red like the extreme aridity of the Atacama Desert plateau in South America. Red like the heat coming from felsic lava. Red like Bakugo Katsuki’s eyes. Red like the warning signs that had been flashing right in front of his face after all this time. The whispery groans in his mind are beginning to issue orders – don’t talk about this, they say. It’s going to ruin your relationship, they hint. What kind of lover spends his day off with another person, is another. Overwhelmed by the things he wants to say, things he’ll never say – the fury in his gut.

Somehow Izuku had lost his way but the risk he took was calculated, reasonable.

What’s not reasonable on the other hand is this –

“I’ll be drinking with Kirishima,”

Again.

Perhaps someone could do something about the evil spirit in Izuku’s head?

He died a little bit inside, to be honest. He might be a demanding creature – selfish, cruel, and immensely unreasonable – but he is also this person’s lover. They had not seen each other for the entire week and yes, they did spend the entire day lazing but he didn’t want Katsuki to leave – at least not today. He wants to sleep together, have dinner together, and stay together until they get up to work early shifts in the morning tomorrow.

Is that too much to ask?

His tongue burns and when he presses his lips into a thin line while Katsuki takes the opportunity to talk.

“What? You’ve got something to say, Deku?”

He feels like his life is flashing by. Everyone has their almost and for this person, Kirishima is their almost. Izuku has never been an envious individual but during the rare instances he is, he feels like his entire body could just rot. It wasn’t a sensation he liked, it was something that made him feel restless, like watching a dramatic death scene – unhappy, full of suspense, and a kinda tragic feeling. His hands fidget – wanting to reach out – and Katsuki’s attention is focused on him but that gaze of his is just waiting for once.

What are you being patient for? That’s unlike you.

“Nothing,”

He assures.

“Go to him,”

He concedes.

“I’m sure he’s waiting for you,”

Because aside from the crippling insecurity, Midoriya Izuku wasn’t the type to beg or tie people down. He’s the one who’s making this work. Trust, he’ll give Katsuki that. Kirishima was a long-time friend – Katsuki’s best friend and also his friend. The ache was frequent and stubborn but he’ll swallow it down. He shouldn’t be worried. He shouldn’t be dramatic. He shouldn’t be jealous of the person who gets to see the person he loves every single day. It’s unreasonable, or so he thinks, or so he knows everyone would think.

He’s stuck between I have something to tell you and I really need to get over this before the door creaks open and Katsuki walks out. The other doesn’t bother to say goodbye and the lock’s click echoes inside their flat as Izuku’s left staring at the door.

“Itterasshai,”

He mumbles hazily under his breath, awkwardly laughing at empty space.

Nowadays Izuku thinks of Katsuki and his stomach churns – not in a beautiful butterfly kind of way, it’s more like a swirling tornado storming in his soul and destroying everything in its path. He feels exhausted and tired like he’s the only one exerting effort in this.

Saltwater is very dense, it sinks and travels back southward at great depths. Today, warm surface waters flow northward in the Atlantic as well. It rages under the waves and those currents, how miraculously they have grown in the wild of those unknown. Many die in that ocean due to accidents – whether it be because they’ve become lost or due to the storm. It’s rather prone, many advice not to wander in aimlessly. You could drown, without a life jacket, you’ll sink into an average depth of three thousand meters if not guided by the current to wash into an unfamiliar shore.

These months most especially, the Atlantic Ocean is not calm, warm winds come and go from different places. The water levels continuously rise and that most especially is unsafe.

“If you wanted to drink we have alcohol here, Kacchan,”

At nineteen point five degrees north and longitude ninety-two point six west, in the shores of Campeche Mexico, tropical depression slowly starts to brew.

 


 

It’s three am when the hurricane hits.

“We’re breaking up,”

Ruby-red eyes glance at Izuku, waiting for a reply.

It’s been at sea for quite a while now so citizens have had enough time to prepare. All of a sudden the sea becomes fearless, wild, reckless, terrifying as it shows off its depths. Without an ounce of disinclination, it is constantly moving, ready for a fight but never quite afraid of anything being thrown at it. The waters are deep and anything you send would just sink. Right now it’s useless to attempt something – futile, don’t do it.

Katsuki had never been soft. He was always bloody knuckles with shards of glass. He wasn’t afraid of hurting people. He’s wild, untouchable, and confident. Even as he stands in front of Izuku, it feels like the other deserves every awful, miserable, and wretched thing that has ever happened to him. He looks unfazed, uninterested even and oddly enough the first thing that Izuku thinks is Ah, I let my guard down too much, I was never really safe and a piercing pain in his ribcage saying I saw this coming.

Point One. Katsuki is not drunk. Point Two. He had just gotten back from his eighth drinking session with Kirishima. Point Three. They were in a rut and that could only mean one thing. This person wasn’t interested in him anymore. Izuku feels like he has to walk on his knees, thread for a hundred miles through the Andes Mountains – the largest continental mountain in the world – and maybe this person would give him some ounce of sympathy. He feels speechless, the shame of not finding the right words.

He waits for a good minute and a half before he gathers his thoughts, face buried in his hands as he sits on the edge of the bed he’d shared with Katsuki for the last three years.

“Can I please ask why?”

His voice and fingers are shaking as he hopes please let it not be Kirishima-kun.

He doesn’t want to look at Katsuki right now. He feels too unsteady, too goddamn mute because he’s made bad decisions for temporary happiness. He knows that he’s going to carry this weight for the rest of his life. Getting over this would be difficult and he wouldn’t be able to rest because Kacchan, his Kacchan. Five years’ worth of relationship had come to this. It felt overwhelming and he’s had his visions but still, it wasn’t comparable to the real apocalyptic scene.

“I don’t know. I’m bored,”

Even Izuku knows that doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t make sense.

“Oh… I see,”

Or maybe Katsuki’s just here to establish another alibi. He’s not that shallow of a person.

“It’s not because you found… someone else? Kirishima-kun perhaps?”

There is something familiar about all of this. Perhaps it was that or maybe true, his lover isn’t impressed by him anymore. Maybe his clinginess had become too annoying, maybe it was because he couldn’t cook or do housework as well as Katsuki. Maybe it was because he was always getting injured and maybe… maybe…  Maybe he’s noticed how ugly Izuku’s been these days. The reason he received wasn’t enough but by chance, there was nothing else. I fucked up, is what he thinks. Please don’t do this, follows half a second later.

“What the fuck… Kirishima!?

And then a beat –

“What does this shit have to do with Kirishima!?”

Katsuki has always had a violent, uncontrolled temper that sent him literally insane when he was annoyed but this was different. He sounds breathless and shocked even like the wind has been knocked out of his chest. A while passes and there’s still no reply. Izuku doesn’t want to look up; he doesn’t want to see his face. He feels so uncomfortable everywhere and all he wants to do for now is sleep.

Speaking of sleep.

“Alright,”

He sighs as he sluggishly gets up, eyes focused on the side, avoiding the other’s gaze.

“I’ll go leave in the morning, Kacchan. Please let me sleep on the sofa at least,”

He doesn’t think he’d be able to stay here any longer.

 


 

“You look miserable,

Gran Torino sighs before he shakes his head, both worried and unimpressed.

Izuku has spent the last four days cooped up in his office at the agency, thin blankets barely reaching his ankles as he tries to fit himself on the couch with his legs dangling on the edge. The picture frames of him and Katsuki has already been taken down and his mentor wrinkles his nose at the sight of empty alcohol bottles and beer on the coffee table. The hero has never been the type to drink before – he couldn’t handle it and he didn’t like the taste either. He’d do it for formality sake – during company meetings for example – but never out of leisure.

“You’re still young. Don’t let it get to you,”

The retired hero then heads towards the desk to take care of the paperwork for now because everyone knows that the Symbol of Peace wouldn’t be able to do that in his current state. He also doesn’t say anything to scold him for his absence from hero activities. The old man is more empathetic than he’s ever been and whatever press that’s crowding the entrance of their agency asking for Deku’s current state, was sent away with cryptic excuses.

On the fifth day, his friends come to visit.

“Did something happen, Deku-kun? Are you sick?”

Uraraka asks with a concerned tone, the palm of her hand brushing against his forehead and neck. Todoroki and Iida are arguing somewhere in the corner of the room and moments later the door slams shut before one of them returns with a bunch of cold patches and medicine in hand. Five days is too long to be gone from work, they comment. You should go to the hospital before it gets worse, they tried to convince. They sigh and grumble about the state the office is in, the three of them having finished work extra early in order to drop by today.

“If you’re still like this tomorrow I’ll take you to the doctor. Don’t overwork yourself, Midoriya,”

Because at this rate, with how lethargic he is being he might as well be sick.

He’s not though.

“Sensei says that you haven’t been eating anything. Deku-kun, when was the last time you ate?”

“Midoriya, it’s not good to drink this much! As the number one hero, you should be more mindful of what you consume. What is it with this amount of unhealthy drinks?”

The three are closely knitted with Katsuki’s group of friends. They all are, they’ve spent three years of high school together and had been through thick and thin, through life and death situations. It was inevitable, really. At this point, Izuku had expected them to know what had happened. Gran Torino did, he realized what it was with just one look. He feels like he’s misleading them in a way because he wasn’t ill. There was no need to buy medicine or Gatorade or cook him porridge.

The concerned looks on their faces made him feel like trash.

“I’m not sick,”

He manages to croak out, voice raspy and tired. His eyes are rimmed red, head throbbing, and self a complete mess. If there was one thing that gave him courage through speaking, it was the comforting hand Uraraka placed on his knee.

“Kacchan broke up with me,”

Someone gasps and they all shut up. They seem offended even. Uraraka looks like she’s on the verge of tears when she wraps her arms around him and gives him a hug, slow assuring pats on his back. Iida feels torn, dumbfounded. Todoroki on the other hand is silently seething in anger; hand clenched so hard nail marks imprint on his palm. The half-and-half hero attempts to leave a few minutes later, Iida trying to stop him from storming Ground Zero’s agency because it’s for some reason, completely unreasonable.

“I hate him,”

He whispers against Uraraka’s shoulder all the while Iida and Todoroki are in disagreement.

“Hate is good, Deku-kun,”

She pats his head and runs her fingers through his hair. As someone who had been seriously in love with him before, seeing him in such a state was painful. This person was the number one hero, the Symbol of Peace. If there was one person who deserved all the happiness in the world it’s this guy. Izuku, in such a state was not crying whatsoever. He simply remained still, unmoving and dejected like a corpse. He sleeps in thirty-minute intervals and had only accumulated four hours of sleep during the past five days.

“At least you’re starting to see him for what he is, and not what you think he is. Hopefully, you’re not looking at him through rose-colored spectacles anymore. Indifference is better,”

That’s not it, Uraraka-san is what he wants to say.

The day after that, Mina, Sero, and Kaminari drop by. They’re incomplete without Kirishima and Katsuki but Izuku could already think of reasons as to why.

They say things like Bakugo’s an idiot and He’s going to come back running to you like their break-up is nothing serious. They bring him two boxes of pizza, burgers, and fries which outrages Iida who arrives a few minutes later with Uraraka and Todoroki – this time, with Shinsou in tow. He wants to tell them that they shouldn’t waste their time doing this. That they should focus on their work but all he could do is slightly frown as Uraraka tries to force-feed him, telling him to open his mouth. Heroes with years of training were good. He’s never been on this side before but with how Mina and Uraraka smile telling him to eat, he’s half-convinced that they’d do well in commercial films.

“Midoriya, go to sleep,”

With a snap he’s out from Shinsou’s quirk, regretting how he answered the question a few seconds earlier.

 


 

Gran Torino sweeps in like the Walvis Bay north of Kuiseb River Delta.

“Leave Japan,”

The bay is a safe haven for sea vessels because of its natural deep-water harbor, protected by the Pelican Point sand spit along Namibia’s coast. It’s connected to the Cape of Good Hope, waters calm and benign, no possibility of getting lost due to the lighthouses that brighten the dark during unkind nights at sea. Although the temperature resembles a cold desert climate due to the Benguela Current, it’s more soothing than harmful, the humidity present from time to time during the day.

“I have work,”

“You’re not in the state to work. Leave Japan,”

Izuku simply stares at the ticket tucked inside his passport on the coffee table. After a week it hardly mattered anymore but he is still choking on the feeling of being in the same place as Katsuki. The smoke still lingers and deep inside and he knows that if he went back to work he’d have to somehow face him again. It’s simply how heroics worked. Different individuals work together depending on the situation. If an event calls for it, he might be placed in the same setting as Katsuki. That would be quite troublesome actually.

“Leave and don’t come back until you’ve gotten yourself together,”

It’ll be a good lesson to the other heroes as well – to not depend on one person so much that is.

“Take all the time you need. Come back when you don’t seem so miserable anymore,”

 


 

Izuku thinks that he has a talent for being irrational.

“Kirishima-kun?”

Oddly enough, that person is present on the day he’s about to depart to a foreign country. Standing beside Grand Torino, he could recognize that red hair anywhere. A familiar ache creeps up his chest and he just awkwardly stands there, one hand on his suitcase as he waits for an explanation or a reply. The other looks just as uncomfortable, uneasy laughter and a nervous smile. Seeing this person hurts. He’s the person Kacchan stares at while I’m away, he thinks. How am I supposed to compete with that? he asks himself. Because everyone knows just how close the two are and what is a guy to do when his lover falls in love with someone else?

You can’t choose the person you like, he knows.

“I came to see you, Midoriya,”

Is the reply he receives.

Izuku immediately realizes that this person knows something judging by his tense demeanor. It almost seems like Kirishima is reluctant to see him like he just had to do this or he was forced to. The last time they met he wasn’t this nervous around him. This doesn’t feel casual. Katsuki must have told him about the break-up, must have been involved in the break-up. Izuku can’t think of another reason aside from that. It’s been sitting on the tip of his tongue actually – Are you cheating on me with Kirishima-kun, Kacchan? How many times has he wanted to ask that question previously?

“It’s not what you think it is,”

Kirishima says like he’s known what Izuku has been thinking all along.

“Bakugo he… he made a mistake,”

Izuku doesn’t look surprised, Gran Torino is not amused. Whatever mistake that was he doesn’t really have the energy to find out. If he decides to give up on a person, others need to understand just how much that took out of him since he was the type to give endless chances. His chest was filled with something terrible, some form of sickness he fails to comprehend.

“No, I think I understand,”

Green eyes lower unto the floor, a small, pained noise coming from the back of Kirishima’s throat. It doesn’t matter if Katsuki was cheating or not. Point was that he chose to be with another person and prioritized their company over his. Izuku was the one who got dumped, not the other way around. Whatever mistake the redhead is trying to say, it most likely does not exist.

“He loves you,”

And offensive sentence because –

“He doesn’t,”

He would’ve stopped me if he did. I slept there until seven am and he said he’d leave at ten.

Izuku insists, eyes focused on the tiled floor before he looks up and forces a smile towards Kirishima.

“He doesn’t,”

 


 

Western Australia is bounded to the east with a longitude of a hundred twenty-nine degrees east of Greenwich. The southwest coastal area has a Mediterranean climate and is originally heavily forested, including large stands of karri, one of the tallest trees in the world. During mid-June, up ahead are dripping grape colored skies during cold evenings, soft caresses of sunrays, the temperate embrace of warm wind, and sandcastles next to gently crashing waves. It looks like a scene out of a picture book, or so Izuku thinks.

Nonetheless, the last thing he expects to see in Perth is a person he’s only met once in his entire life –

Shindo Yo, with his crooked grins, sly hands and dangerous voice is the tall, handsome stranger no one has ever told him to prepare for. The guy is charming and unlike Katsuki who is the epitome of spitfire, Yo is the first warm breeze in summer where everything’s bright and green – cool and soothing, resembling something like mint. He’s all about neck kisses, coffee dates, and car rides – a hopeless romantic. He’s also a curious man, a wanderer. His feet never seem to settle in one place as he drags Izuku by the hand, showing him what this place has to offer.

“I’m gonna grow so many flowers and strawberries and be the guardian of so many honeybees. Watch me,”

Izuku was in no way making fun of Yo’s childhood dream. It was far from it actually. He only laughed because of the serious expression on his face. The things they usually talk about are pretty redundant and stupid – never anything related to work. It’s an unspoken rule because Yo has already seen the articles of Deku’s disappearance from Japan, too polite to mention those things. If this person was here for a break then they most likely needed to getaway. Anyone could tell that much.

Also, the thing is; this man screams trouble. Izuku at this point doesn’t seem to care.

“You smell nice,”

Like my body wash – some sort of citrus-scented thing.

Yo’s face is pressed between Izuku’s shoulder blades after he had snuck up on him in his apartment’s kitchen at six-thirty in the morning. They’re about the same height; the same built as well – convenient for the number one hero since he didn’t bring that many clothes. Over the past few days, Yo has convinced him to get a trim and now his hair is significantly shorter, styled in an undercut. The other says he loves it and that it looks youthful, handsome even. Izuku flushes red in reply, not used to compliments about his appearance, lowering the cup of coffee on the counter to turn around.

“Don’t you have work?”

Days here always feel like they’ve been drenched in honey. He can hear the slight whirring of the fan, softly rustling cotton curtains and sleepy bedsheets as sunlight drip through the window and spills on the floor. There’s a hint of caffeine in the air and everything’s quite lovely, the person in front of him sweet and bright.

Yo’s hands are wrapped around Izuku’s waist, brown-eyes focused on those lips before he looks up and meets his gaze. There’s a slight smirk that tugs against the corner of his mouth before he leans in for a kiss, slow and sweet like they’re melting against each other, a bit too romantic for friends. This as well as an unspoken rule. Izuku doesn’t hesitate to open his mouth, foreheads pressed against each other, and noses brushing when they finally part. There’s eye contact for about eight seconds before someone leans in again, the both of them slotted comfortably against each other’s arms.

“Saturday is my day off, babe,”

Another long affectionate kiss and Yo slowly slides his hands under Izuku’s shirt – his shirt –, slightly groaning in pleasure when he feels those muscles under his palm and finger pads because he’s a die-hard fan of Deku in secret – the very main reason why he approached him in the first place.

“M’wanna fuck,”

Yo all but groans against the younger male’s lips. Izuku’s a stuttering mess at this point because oddly enough, it’s the first time he actually realizes that not everyone like Katsuki speaks in code. Some are straight forward with what they want and that fact makes his blood rush, both to his face and south. This guy is dangerous, he thinks. We’ll make a mess in the kitchen, is another. Yo mumbles something about not getting out of bed until eight during Saturdays. Apparently it’s a norm, Izuku doesn’t know since he always gets up during this time.

Anyway –

“Okay,”

Izuku’s hands slip down to touch the other’s ass and he could clearly see the charming grin that graces the older male’s lips. They both seem a bit too excited even though they’ve already done it so much last night. Clearly, Yo wasn’t complaining. He wasn’t saying anything either when Izuku all but bends him against the table, noticing that this guy wasn’t wearing anything but a pair of thin boxers.

“We can fuck,”

Two can play that game of course.

 


 

Three and a half months in, Izuku’s phone rings with a call from Katsuki.

He wakes up to check what it is but Yo already has the device in his hand, staring at the name before he declines it himself. Izuku just silently watches, not really complaining but not pleased about it either. On the contrary, he’s quite shaken up actually. His face is just numb at this point, too used to Katsuki’s impulsive antics. You don’t just call a former lover out of nowhere, is what he wants to voice out, confused. Brown eyes questioningly land on him and he shrugs his shoulders, buried under the sheets on the sunlit puddle of Yo’s bed.

“Should we take revenge on him?”

The other teasingly suggests, pressing a kiss on Izuku’s temple.

It’s easier to talk about this now, easier now that he’s somehow recovered. The first time he told the older male he couldn’t help but cry a bit, a lot actually. It just shows how much influence Katsuki has in his life. How difficult it was to adjust again because that person was supposed to be constant, always constant even though he’s seen this coming from miles away. He doesn’t want to think about it anymore actually. It only brought back bad memories.

Izuku lets out a tired groan, inching closer to wrap his arms around the other’s waist.

“It’s not Kacchan’s fault,”

“The bastard cheated on you. It’s his fault,”

“He fell out of love,”

Or maybe he never was in the first place. Izuku doesn’t know.

“He found someone better. I couldn’t hold him down, it’s my fault,”

He mumbles against Yo’s arm with his eyes closed, the ache returning in his chest again. In his head Katsuki’s like the sun, unreachable and very, very bright. This person on the other hand was the wind brushing past his fingers and feet, relaxing and a force lulling him to sleep. He knows that it’s bad to compare but Izuku wonders if this is what it’s like to be adored for once. He wonders if this is what it’s like to have someone listen, comfort and to just have no insecurities – to feel just, not less but just enough.

“Other people are not medicine, Izuku,”

Yo tells him as he shifts on his position, Izuku sinking on the mattress from the added weight on his lap.

He looks up at the other, his hair a sex-crazed mess and hickeys all over his skin. Yo’s trailing kisses down his throat and it only takes a moment before Izuku throws his head back; gritting his teeth at the tight heat that he slowly started to sink into. The older male then starts to rock his hips back and forth, his shadow rising and falling in front of the younger before he leans in for a kiss, demanding attention.

“Speak for yourself,”

Izuku softly mumbles against Yo’s lips before kissing him back.

 


 

That summer, Izuku spends a lot of his time sleeping with his head in a pool of moonlight.

“I’ll take care of you,”

It’s not your responsibility. You don’t have to.

“It’s rotten work,”

I’m quite messy. I don’t want to bother you.

“No. Not to me. Not if it’s you,”

There’s something indulgent about Yo – a dare, a rage, an intolerable tenderness. These days Izuku’s quite sentimental and he’s willing to admit that a part of him, crazed and kamikaze, ripe for anarchy, loves Katsuki still. It’s difficult but he’s getting a bit better now. He has a person who accompanies him during drowsy midnight conversations and gives really, really good hugs. This person tells him that it’s alright if he wasn’t good, that he doesn’t have to walk miles on his knees repenting. Every time this person speaks he could feel his breath hitch. He chokes up every time this person pats his head, praises him or gently pinches his cheek.

Yo simply laughs at the word rebound before he nods, saying that he was more than happy to do so.

 


 

“Looks good,”

Yo shows his signature grin after making sure that Izuku’s silk patent tie is prim and proper. They’re both dressed in six-figured three-piece tailor suits, the best of bespoke leather shoes donning their feet. Izuku has silver cuffs on and a designer watch to pair – looking sharp, or so what the other would praise. If it was up to him he wouldn’t find the need to dress up this much. It was excessive by quite a lot actually. He wasn’t used to being this fancy. Then again, Gran Torino and Yo both felt that this in a way was very necessary.

The Symbol of Peace returns after two years, the reports all over Japan say.

He’s been pretty active in Australia after being in hiatus for the first five months or so. Even then, returning to Japan immediately was a bit of a stretch. Call it being cowardly but Izuku didn’t want to. Yo told him that it was a reason good enough as well. The Symbol of Peace, being the number one – those can come second for now. He needed to get his shit together back then. If he didn’t then he would’ve just caused trouble for himself and for the people around him. He needed that.

“Is your mic on, Deku-san?”

A staff asks, eyes scanning the hero’s suit. Yo nods on his behalf and on stage – a few meters away – they could already hear Present Mic start off with their introduction. His return is supposed to be a secret but for some reason, it got leaked. Someone must have recognized him at the airport and took a photo or something. It blew things out of proportion, a bit more than he could handle actually.

Izuku’s mind zeroed out, silent as he started to think –

“You’re on three, two, one… “

About that day, two years ago when Katsuki told him we’re breaking up.

That glance the other sent his way which was both expectant and hopeful, something he had mistaken for pity.

And how Katsuki got mad asking What does Kirishima have to do with this!? because he had brought up their friend’s name out of nowhere, without any context.

About how Mina, Kaminari, and Sero were trying to make him feel better by saying that the other would come around and apologize. Or how Kirishima – the man himself – showed up on the day he was about to leave saying He loves you with that anxious look on his face, most likely nervous that his words wouldn’t work on the other because this was him, Izuku. Izuku gives out a ton of chances to others but when he gives up, he gives up — that’s it. Izuku who has never been like this towards Katsuki, Izuku who has always been patient and forgiving.

That call two years ago which Yo declined for him…

The disappointment he felt when no one grabbed his arm, a voice telling him not to leave.

“You idiot, you just had to do it,”

Katsuki just had to test him. See how far this would go because if this was a test you would’ve failed it, stupid nerd, the fond voice echoes inside his head. That guy messed him up, he really did. He spent nights awake thinking about how it could’ve been after coming into realization. Was it for suspense? For fun? Izuku doesn’t understand but he knows that it’s stupid. It’s the most senseless love scenario ever. They were already adults two years ago for goodness sake.

“Please welcome Grand and Deku!”

Their shoes click on the floor as they go out into the spotlight, familiar faces seating in the front seats. His friends are there – Uraraka, Iida, Todoroki, and Shinsou. Mina, Kaminari, Sero, and Kirishima are also present. There’s Gran Torino, Aizawa-sensei, Midnight, a few of the heroes from his agency and oh –

Kacchan.

Izuku doesn’t bother sparing him a glance, the same sentence repeating over and over again inside his head.

“You fucked up,”

He wasn’t sure if he was referring to himself or to the other.

“You fucked up.”

A bit too late now.

Ruby-red eyes focus on the hand pressed against Shindo Yo’s back.