forelsket

“Guys, he’s here.” I say. 

While I say these words — the words I’d never thought I’d say a couple weeks ago — I stare down at Deku, drinking in the sight of him, desperate for a reason I can’t understand. I’m overwhelmed, skin buzzing and tingling like I was being poked with a trillion needles — all at fucking once. Emotions are welling up inside me, so many and all at the same time — so much more than I’m used to. Usually, I feel one emotion, and its fucking anger. That’s all I’ve ever needed — rage to fuel this destructive quirk of mine. But now, I’m feeling too many things and it’s making me almost delirious, dizzy. I dare say that I’m happy, but what the hell would I know about being happy? 

Absolutely-fucking-nothing. I have been happy for a long time, and, well. That says a lot about me already. 

If you don’t know me, that sucks for you. I’d tell you who I was, if I knew. But I don’t. So, I can’t. Even if I did, I probably wouldn’t anyways. Also, I don’t mean it in that way — I know who I am. But I don’t know who I am, y’know? I know my name. Katsuki Bakugou. And that’s about fucking it. I’m a fucking person, I have memories and feelings and a brain and shit, but a personality? No. I’m more like a massive pile of raging, stinky, weak piece of shit. And if you count that as a personality, then you need to go to therapy, too. 

But I’m starting to think I’m a little more than an imposter in an empty husk of a body, now. Kneeling before Deku, I’m starting to think I’m actually somebody — and that’s something. 

Deku is staring at me, and oh. He’s a sight for sore eyes. He’s stunning, butin a strange, shitty-nerd-Deku way. His hair is wild and greasy and dirty, but it still looks soft, and like the color of the leaves in autumn just before they start to change color, vibrant and green and pretty. His skin is covered in filth, but he still manages to look like he’s glowing beneath all that muck. And his eyes. Fuck, his eyes. His eyes are like glittering, shining stars — or the deep green of a jade gem, all beautiful and wonderful and breathtaking and shit. I am awed. By Deku. By how intense my emotions are right now. By how my heart is stuttering and galloping like a wild fucking horse on a rampage. By how my breath is labored and coming out in quick, unsteady gasps. 

Maybe it’s adrenaline. Maybe it’s relief so strong that it makes me nauseous and want to pass out — maybe it’s both. It probably is, because it’s me, after all. 

Deku’s eyes widen a little more than they already were, his mouth dropping open as he gazes up at me, our eyes locked, holding each other, looking into the other’s window to the soul. Then his mouth moves, and he mouths something to me, his lips moving in a familiar way, and it doesn’t even take me a second to figure out what he’s saying. 

He’s saying my name. Katsuki. 

Kacchan. 

Slowly, I nod at him, and I mouth ‘Deku’ in return. Then Deku’s eyes and nose scrunch up and his expression morphed into the one he wears before he starts to bawl like a baby. I open my mouth to say something, something reassuring or rude or both, but something slams into me, and I’m shoved off of Deku. 

“Ka – !” And then the guy heads for Deku, hands outstretched, and face pulled into a violent snarl – an expression I wear like a fucking crown. Familiar rage makes my blood boil and I growl as I launch myself at the man, my hands crackling with the onslaught of my explosions, and I waste no time pinning him to the ground and blasting him. The man grunts, groans, and tries to get up but I’m faster — and stronger and smarter, apparently, what a fucking sissy — I kick him as hard as I can in the face and he’s out like a light, falling back onto the ground. I wait for a few seconds, watching him lay still before I stumble over to Deku, who’s still lying on the ground, my heart pounding in my chest. My body aches and my wounds pull as I fall down beside him. 

“Deku,” I say. 

“Kacchan,” Deku says back. My shoulders sag in relief and I can almost forget that Deku left me — no. Not me. UA. He left UA. And his other friends, and I’m not even — Deku didn’t leave me. I have no right to say that he did. So, what if he left a puny, wimpy-ass letter apologizing for missing my birthday for the first time — so. Fucking. What? You know what they say. 

What goes around, comes around. In other words, Karma’s a bitch, isn’t it? 

I shake my head to clear my thoughts. Deku is attempting to get up. Almost out of instinct, my hands shoot out to steady him when Deku starts to fall back. Deku releases a sharp breath and stutters at my touch, eyes fluttering closed. Then he sags, going completely limp. I gasp and fling myself forward so I can fully catch him in my arms, my stab wounds from Shigaraki flaring up and throbbing worse than they had in the last few days. It’s been a minute since I’ve fought, and my Armor Piercing Shot took more out of me than I thought it would. 

“Deku,” I say again, trying to keep my voice steady. Fatigue and exhaustion weigh me down like an anchor, and I want to sleep for at least a fucking year before having to deal with life and all these bullshit feelings. My limbs feel heavy, and my grip is slightly shaking and weak, but I force myself to grip Deku tight and straighten my wobbling arms and legs. Sleep later, I tell my brain. “Hey, Deku, look at me.” 

Deku opens his eyes and looks at me. He looks so tired. My heart seizes in my chest, and it hurts to breathe, and it hurts to see Deku like this. Cheerful, happy, radiant, always-laughing-Deku, reduced to. . . to this. 

I do not like this. 

“Kacchan,” the fucker whispers, like he wasn’t about to give me a heart attack by the way he looks — he looks dead, or like he’s about to die. “Kacchan, you need to go, it’s not safe, AFO is after me, I don’t —” 

I interrupt him with a furious snarl. “Shut the fuck up, Deku.” I spit out, my eyes burning. What is this sensation in my eyes? What is this wetness? Oh, I realize after a moment, when I notice the tightness in my throat and how it’s suddenly difficult to breathe. I’m about to cry. 

In front of Deku. 

Oh hell no. No fucking way that I’m going to cry in front of shitty Deku. No. Fucking. Way. 

Deku’s eyes glass over with tears, and the pleading, desperate look on his face makes me want to vomit. Makes me want to apologize — something I’ve never done. Then, at that exact moment, I realize how strong of a hold Deku truly has on me. I’d do just about anything for him. 

“You see. . . Deku is like. . . He’s like my twin. Twin stars, soulmates, whatever bullshit you wanna call it. And now that he’s gone. . . it’s like half of me is gone, too. When Deku left, he took part of my heart with him. That bastard.”

That’s what I had said to Todoroki when he had asked me how I was taking all of this — Deku leaving UA, leaving me a note —

Happy birthday by the way, Kacchan —

With that on it. And fuck, that messed me up — I’m like, 99.9% sure I cried when I read that. Maybe. I don’t know. I sort of blacked out — more like fainted from pure shock and grief, Kaminari had helpfully stated after I had asked what happened after I blacked out — so I don’t really remember what happened after reading that stupid, shitty, good-for-nothing letter, signed Izuku in messy but pretty scrawl in the bottom left corner. 

“Kacchan,” Deku’s begging, eyes glossed over. I think, he’s delirious, as he hiccups between words. “Kacchan, please, you have to listen to me, just this once, please listen to me —” 

“No,” I murmur softly, and oh, how the mighty have fallen. “No-can-do, Deku. Your little squad and our classmates are coming for ya.” I pause, then I press a finger to the comm hidden in my ear. “Deku’s safe. Hurry your slow asses up.” I say quietly. 

This seems to freak out Deku even more. He starts to shake his head, wriggling around like a fucking worm, frantic and blubbering nonsense. He starts begging me again, pleading that I leave, go far away where AFO can’t reach me, to where I’m safe. 

But I feel safe when I’m with you, I almost say, but that would be too sappy, wouldn’t it? “Deku,” I say slowly, as gently as I can. “Deku, calm down.”

Deku shakes his head, and the air starts to static around us, buzzing with electricity, with Deku’s quirk. I panic, because even when Deku’s worn to the bone, he was stronger than me. Swallowing, I yell out the only thing I can think of. 

“Izuku!” 

De — Izuku goes still. He stops moving, breathing, struggling. He exhales slowly, his eyes wide and unfocused until they slowly inch up to meet mine — they’re shocked, confused, like he didn’t understand what I’ve just said. Which is understandable. I haven’t called him by his name in 13 years. 

I wait a little bit until I speak again. 

“Izuku, calm down. I’m not going anywhere. You’re safe. I’m safe. Everyone is safe. You can rest now.” I say.

Izuku stares and stares and stares until he’s suddenly fucking sobbing his damn heart out, tears welling from his eyes and spilling down his cheeks at record speed, and he clutches me so tight that it hurts. I don’t push him away. He holds me like his life depends on it, and I hold him right back. He weeps and cries into my neck, and at the sounds of his whimpers, my heart squeezes and I pull him closer to me, slowly rocking him — no matter how much it causes my wounds to ooze blood and sting like a bitch, I won’t let go of him. Izuku’s cries die down slowly, and his grip lessens as he falls into a deep slumber, limp and motionless. His exhales are warm and steady against the skin of my neck. It sends shivers down my spine, and I clutch him a little tighter. Izuku sighs against my neck and burrows deeper into me, nuzzling me. 

My heart is racing. 

“BAKUGOU!” Someone screams. I tense, my breath halting and my heart stopping cold in my chest and dropping to my stomach. They shout again, and I realize that it’s Todoroki and not some villain. Wheezing out a heavy, exhausted sigh, I bow my head so that it rests lightly on Izuku’s, and I don’t have any thoughts in my brain except warm, safe, and home.

Izuku is home. 

My eyes flutter closed, and I don’t fight sleep when it swallows me whole with its dark, soothing jaws.