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they'd grown up side by side. katsuki's window faced his, their mothers traded sugar and gossip, and somewhere in all those years the line between "neighbor" and "friend" blurred until it was just habit. it wasn't unusual for him to climb out onto the roof at midnight and find the angry boy already there, sitting with his knees pulled up, cigarette between his fingers, eyes fixed on nothing.
mori naoki sat down next to him without asking. that was the rule. you didn't ask, you just did.
"you'll ruin your lungs," he said, like always.
the blond didn't look at him. "shut up."
the silence that followed wasn't unfriendly. it never was. katsuki carried his noise differently these days. not shouting, not snarling, but you could feel it around him. weighted. sometimes naoki thought if he pressed a hand to his chest he'd feel the grief humming there like a second heart.
he didn't say that, of course. he just leaned back on his palms, let the night press cool against his skin.
katsuki finally exhaled, smoke curling out in a thin stream. "you ever think about how fucking stupid it is? one second someone's here, next they're just... gone."
naoki's throat tightened. he'd heard versions of this before, though never so bare. katsuki wasn't asking for answers, he wasn't the kind of person who asked for comfort. he just wanted a witness.
"yeah," he said softly. "stupid."
katsuki glanced at him then. quick, sharp, and gone again. but it was enough to twist something in his gut, because for a heartbeat it wasn't really him the man was seeing. it was the shadow behind him. one he could never measure up to.
he swallowed, forcing a small smirk. "you're getting sentimental. should i be worried?"
"fuck off." but there was no bite in it.
and so they sat there, two shapes outlined by moonlight, silence stretching long and easy. naoki let himself have the smallest fantasy. that bakugo katsuki was here for him, not for the ghost of someone else.
he knew better. but he let the thought live a little longer before killing it.
naoki was half-asleep when the knock came. not the polite kind, but the impatient, uneven thud of someone who didn't care if they woke the whole damn building. he already knew who it was before he dragged himself out of bed.
katsuki stood in the hallway, hoodie unzipped, eyes rimmed red like he hadn't slept in days. his mouth twisted at the sight of him, as if daring naoki to ask questions.
"you gonna let me in, or what?"
naoki stepped aside. no hesitation. there never was. the blond brushed past him, heavy with the scent of smoke and sweat, pacing a short circle through the living room before collapsing onto the couch.
"bad night?" naoki asked carefully, instinctively moving to brew two cups of tea.
katsuki shot him a look sharp enough to cut. "don't start with me."
so he didn't. he just sat on the armrest with his cup, watching katsuki scrub a hand over his face. there was something raw about him like this, stripped of the volume and the explosions. just a boy who didn't know where to put his grief.
"you should sleep," naoki murmured.
"can't."
"then talk."
katsuki's laugh was bitter, almost humorless. "talk? you think words fix shit?"
silence stretched, taut. naoki could feel the shadow between them. he'd felt it once too many times, the way his eyes glazed over, looking at him but not really seeing him.
still, he said softly, "then just sit. you don't have to—"
the words cut off when the blond stood abruptly, crossing the short space between them. his hand fisted in naoki's shirt, pulling him up from the armrest in one rough motion.
"don't fucking pity me," he snarled, voice too close. his breath was hot, uneven.
"i'm not," naoki whispered back.
and maybe that was true, or maybe it was the lie he'd been telling himself for years. it didn't matter. because the next second katsuki's mouth crashed against his, all teeth and anger and desperation, and naoki let it happen.
he didn't pull back when katsuki kissed like he wanted to bruise, like he wanted to erase himself. he didn't stop him when rough hands shoved him back against the wall. naoki's chest ached, not from the force, but from the knowledge that katsuki wasn't kissing him at all.
still, he kissed back. because being wanted as a stand-in was better than not being wanted at all.
katsuki's mouth was fire against his, rough and consuming. naoki's back hit the wall hard enough to rattle the frame, but he barely felt it. all he could register was the weight of the blond's hands, gripping like they needed to hold on or tear him apart.
"fuck," he muttered into the kiss, biting at his lip. "just— shut up."
"i'm not saying anything," naoki breathed, and it came out shaky, too close to a plea.
katsuki tugged him forward by the collar, stumbling them both toward the couch. they fell into it gracelessly, the man straddling him, pinning him down with a hunger that felt almost violent. his hands were everywhere: shoving up naoki's shirt, digging into his ribs like he could carve something out.
naoki gasped when teeth scraped his neck. "katsuki—"
he froze for half a beat, shoulders tense, breath harsh. then he kissed him harder, like punishment. like he needed to overwrite whatever his name had triggered.
naoki let him.
clothes came off in a blur. katsuki yanking fabric, naoki arching up to help, neither of them careful. skin met skin, hot and clumsy, and the blond's hands trembled where they pressed into his chest.
naoki caught his wrist, just for a second. "you don't have to—"
"shut up," he snapped, voice ragged. "don't fucking stop me."
and naoki didn't. because if he stopped this, he'd lose it forever.
katsuki kissed like drowning, hips grinding down with restless urgency. every sound that tore from him was raw, unfiltered. curses, mutters, the occasional slip of a name that wasn't naoki's. each one landed like a knife, but naoki swallowed them down like he deserved to be cut.
he clung back anyway. nails in the man's shoulders, legs tightening around his waist, pulling him closer. if this was all he could have, then he'd take it. even if his chest burned.
when katsuki finally pushed inside, it wasn't slow or careful. it was a surge, a claim, a desperate need to fill the empty space inside himself. naoki bit his lip hard enough to taste iron, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. if it was from the stretch, or from the weight of knowing, he did not know.
katsuki's head dropped to his shoulder, teeth sinking into flesh to muffle a groan. "fuck... you feel—"
the sentence died, broken by a shudder. naoki tilted his head back, exposing his throat like an offering.
"it's fine," he whispered, voice cracking. "just... keep going."
and so he did. rough, relentless, chasing something naoki couldn't give him. every thrust drove the truth deeper: he wasn't who bakugo wanted. he never would be. but in this moment, he was enough.
so he wrapped his arms around him, held on as if he could anchor them both, and let himself believe the lie.
the room was dark except for the thin slice of moonlight cutting across the floor. the blond lay half on top of him, heavy and spent, breath ragged against his throat. naoki's body ached, but he didn't move. he smoothed a hand slowly through bakugo's sweat-damp hair, fingers gentle, rhythmic, like he was calming a restless child.
he didn't protest. didn't tell him to stop, didn't snap at the tenderness. he just let himself be held, face pressed into the crook of naoki's neck, every exhale shuddering like something was breaking loose inside him.
naoki whispered sweet nothings into the silence. soft "shhh, it's okay, i've got you." though he knew katsuki wasn't listening. maybe the words weren't for him.
his palm skimmed the tense line of bakugo's back, kneading muscle, grounding him. bakugo's fists, curled tight in the sheets, loosened bit by bit.
"you're fine," naoki murmured, kissing his temple without thinking. "you're safe."
for a second, he could almost believe the blond melted into it. that maybe this was what he needed, not the roughness, not the shadow-chasing, but simple, unconditional care.
but then the man shifted, restless again, muttering low against his skin. not naoki's name. never his.
the sound hollowed him out. still, he stroked bakugo's hair, let him have the comfort. gave it, even as it scraped him raw.
when bakugo finally slept, slack and heavy in his arms, naoki stayed awake. staring at the ceiling, he kept petting through blond strands, memorizing the feel.
he told himself it was enough; that being the warmth bakugo reached for, even by accident, mattered.
and if it cost him his own heart, well. it wasn't the first time he'd given something away without expecting it back.
so he lay there, mothering the boy who would never be his, and let the ache sink deeper.
the sun was barely up when bakugo stirred. he didn't say anything. didn't apologize, didn't explain. he just pulled on his clothes with sharp, efficient movements, like he was suiting up for battle. or escaping from it.
naoki sat on the edge of the bed, blanket pooled around his waist, watching the way bakugo refused to look at him.
"you want coffee?" he asked, quiet. it wasn't a plea. it was habit, reflex, something motherly in its simplicity.
bakugo shook his head. grabbed his hoodie. still no words.
when the door shut behind him, the apartment fell into silence. naoki stayed where he was for a long moment, listening for footsteps in the hall, the fading echo of presence.
then he sighed. got up. gathered the discarded clothes, folded the blanket, opened the window to air out the smoke.
on the counter sat two mugs, one still full of day old tea he'd made last night. naoki rinsed them, set them upside down in the rack, and thought about how easily this would all happen again.
he pressed a hand flat against his own chest, felt the dull throb under his ribs. take this heart, he thought, i'll make no more use of it.
and when the ache grew too loud, he drowned it the only way he knew how: in silence. in cleaning. in waiting for the next knock on his door.