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Izuku knows it isn't the traditional or usual kind of confession. It isn't letters in shoe boxes or the movie-like 'staring into each other's eyes.'
Kacchan wasn't even looking at him when the confession comes, steady and clear with their public comms off.
"I love you, Izuku."
He doesn't know what was harder then in that moment—how the words so easily tumbled from Kacchan's mouth or the thing dropping to his stomach.
Izuku still can't breathe when he remembers the moment Kacchan does look at him, waiting. He can't breathe so he smiles. He can't breathe so he mouths the words, knowing (always) that Kacchan would catch them before the winter wind takes it away.
Before his courage falls off the rooftop they're on.
I can't, Kacchan.
It's for a moment that Izuku thinks he sees tears—that shine over crimson eyes that'd always seem dry. For a moment, Izuku thinks he sees Bakugō Katsuki's heartbreak up close, knowing he can catch the falling pieces.
He doesn't and Katsuki says, "Ok, nerd."
They stay as they are from before the confession. It's what Izuku asked for in those few words and of course, Kacchan understood.
He always did and does even now as they work and live together—hero partners, roommates, friends.
So they stay as they are and that's okay.
Then someone—Izuku's not sure who—somehow finds out about the confession and there's an impromptu reunion in an izakaya. The lights of the private room are dim and even the tatami and zabuton are comfortable.
The questions and very unsubtle staring cut down on that.
The heater's on but Izuku thinks that, sitting beside Kacchan, he doesn't need it. He sees everyone nudging each other, cocking their heads, and clearing their throats.
"You idiots just gonna sit around or are we gonna order some fucking beer?"
"Seriously, dude?" Sero sighs. "You know we're not here for—"
Kacchan presses the order button.
"It's a fucking izakaya. I'm ordering booze and you're all paying for it."
Izuku suppresses a smile. Smiling now wouldn't... give off the right image. Not now. Not beside Kacchan.
"So what are you guys?" Hagakure asks, then turns to Izuku. “The secret group chat—I mean, the gossip mill wasn't really clear on what happened and, well, we're your friends, you know, so—"
"Shut the fuck up and pour me a glass, Ha-something."
This goes on through the night whenever someone tries to slip the topic in.
Kacchan drinks more and more with every question. Izuku watches as he asks (orders) everyone who speaks, for a drink or hand me that plate of edamame—yeah, the whole plate, idiot.
More and more.
"Must be awkward living together, huh?" Shōto says and Izuku's already expecting Kacchan to slam the beer glass again and ask for—
"No," Kacchan says. "Nerd wants to stay as we are so we are. Staying. Friends, hero partners and all that shit."
And Izuku smiles.
When he's supporting Kacchan on the way home, the man a snoring furnace flush against his side, Izuku wonders. When they stumble into the apartment and he stops himself from tucking Kacchan in…
Izuku just wonders why it's getting harder to smile.
Nothing changes the next day and the heavy thing sinks deeper and deeper as they stay as they are.
Kacchan makes his hangover clam soup ("Because you don't know shit 'bout cleaning them, nerd") and Izuku turns the TV on the background.
There's the checking of hats, shades, and masks. The usual Kacchan if you keep wearing all-black you can't blame security for always holding you up and transponders lighting up in their pockets. The mics. The keys for the apartment. The—everything.
As it was.
Before.
Kacchan's dragging and throwing an unconscious villain to the ambulance when they make hiking plans.
"What?" Kacchan raises a brow at the responders' (at everyones') looks. "It's been a fucking while and I deserve it, don't I, partner?"
Izuku laughs.
"Sure, Dynamight. We do."
"We're terribly sorry, Hero Deku. We failed to account for any accomplices and we should've—"
Izuku raises a finger to his lips and the policeman shuts their mouth. The doctors and nurses place hands over their mouths, too.
"Shh," Izuku says. "Kacchan's resting."
It was a mistake, they say. There's a getaway car far out from the secured perimeter and, once the accomplice saw Kacchan dragging the unconscious body of the villain, they took the chance.
Of course they did.
Kacchan was talking about hiking, then, after all.
Izuku doesn't sleep. He doesn't close his eyes and there's a heaviness on his lids that fail to make them fall shut. Because blinking means seeing the sight of a goddamn /lance/ shooting from the ground and stabbing and red and Kacchan pushing him away—
Izuku doesn't sleep.
It's a few hours later that Kacchan wakes up. Dark and shadowed, Izuku shouldn't've known but... he does.
He always does when it comes to Kacchan.
"Why'd you stay up, stupid nerd?" Kacchan croaked. "And don't fucking lie—you look shittier than I bet I do."
Izuku chuckles.
"It's in the middle of the night, Kacchan. There isn't even a mirror here. And—" Izuku pauses, hesitates, then— "How'd you even know I stayed up?"
There's a deep sigh. The thunk of a head back on a pillow. And Kacchan's warm fingers brushing against Izuku's clenched ones.
"I always know, Izuku," Kacchan says and it's a whisper—a murmur meant to be lost in the dark.
"Well," Izuku tries to smile. "You've been staying up for me for years, you know."
He thinks it's the right thing to say. The words that'd dispel the tension.
It isn't. It doesn't.
Moonlight slips through the window and Izuku sees Kacchan's heart break again, those warm fingers barely touching his own.
"And now you know why I did, heh," Kacchan huffs, giving a small smile. "And why I still will until I can't anymore, Izuku."
When the moonlight disappears, Izuku thinks he feels Kacchan shift and there's the brush of something chapped, rough, and warm on his hand.
When he looks down, there's nothing and it's cold.
"Then I'll do the same, Kacchan," Izuku says, a crack in his voice. "A new before."
When they get out of the hospital, of course there's a party. The agency gets overrun by heroes who are supposedly busy in their own prefectures and wards.
"Really?" Kacchan grunts, tossing aside another box that Izuku catches. "Not one of you brought booze?"
"No drinking for a month, Kacchan."
Izuku's sure Kacchan knows that but the man still kicks at Kaminari and the rest who echoes the phrase.
"Well," A voice says beside him. "At least he's lively."
"He's been lively even in the hospital, Shōto," Izuku laughs.
When he finishes reorganizing the well-wishes gifts and turns to Shōto, he sees a look. It's a familiar one and this time Kacchan's distracted to see—to block it for him.
"Izuku," Shōto starts slowly. "Are you sure you and him really aren't...? Because just now, you—"
"I what?" Izuku says—snaps and it's quiet but Kacchan's always had good hearing because he's there, shoulder burning into his own.
"Shouldn't you be up on your Ice Castle with your Wind Monster, Elsa?" Kacchan snaps. "What, the soba too cold up there for you?"
Izuku sees the image from Shōto's eyes; Kacchan half-blocking him from view and the way he leans into the warmth that's always there. He sees it as Shōto sighs, shakes his head and places his gift on Kacchan's head.
"Yes," Shōto says, eyes on Izuku. "I should be with him."
"Here's an idea."
"Should we come back to the hospital, Kacchan?”
"Shut up asshole and listen," Kacchan huffs. There's a long pause and Izuku tenses because—
"What if one of us dates? Goes into a relationship and all that crap? Y’think they'll lay off us if that happens?"
They're sitting side-by-side on the couch, extra pillows propping up Kacchan. There are two empty cups of tea on the table and the TV's been on a dead channel for a while. The thick blanket over the two of them should be enough but Izuku feels cold. Too cold.
"Yeah?" He says.
Izuku doesn't know how he sounds but Kacchan shifts. And shifts until the blankets pulls at Izuku and he's looking at crimson eyes bathed in shadows and light.
"Why don't you?" Kacchan asks softly.
"Why don't you?" Izuku repeats and that gets him a smile, wide and bright.
Kacchan leans his head on the sofa and Izuku follows. Somehow it's warmer now when he's seeing Kacchan.
When Kacchan's seeing him.
"You know my answer, Izuku, but I don't know your answer to mine, so..." Kacchan shifts and it's warm. "Why don't you date, nerd?"
It's when Izuku's sure that Kacchan's asleep, snoring softly and loudly that he takes his fill. It's when he allows the brush of his fingers with Kacchan's under the blanket. It's when he whispers, softly and into dreams of burned sugar and smoke,
"I don't know why, Kacchan."
Even with bandages still wrapped around his body, Kacchan cooks. There's practically a 'No Nerds' sign in the perimeter of the apartment's kitchen.
So Izuku cleans. He chatters about the debuting heroes, the popularity polls, and the cat outside had a new litter, Kacchan! Even through the check-ups and re-dressings, Izuku's only allowed to make tea because it's literally putting hot water on a fucking bag, nerd and wash the mugs after.
It's the same and Izuku breathes. Smiles a bit easier when Kacchan's cleared for duty and they're back.
"It ain't your fault, nerd."
Izuku doesn't answer. He can't answer because all he can fucking do is listen and listen and keep on listening to the call he got from the hospital asking is this Midoriya Inko's son?
He doesn't answer because he knows he's at fault. He knows—remembers the nagging suspicion that something was wrong whenever he called home; whenever there was a missed call and he didn't follow up.
"Izuku," Kacchan says, eyes on the road. "It's not your fucking fault, you hear me? You hear me, nerd?"
Yes Izuku wants to say. Izuku wants to turn to Kacchan, smile like always, and say he's fine and of course he knows and he's listening.
The words don't come and the drive to his mother's house is filled with cries drowned by music Kacchan that turned up.
At the first sob—that first tremble and shake, Kacchan had already moved. He didn't say anything more and just turned the radio's volume up. Kacchan just drove, the car silent with Izuku's tears, sobs, and cries that couldn't be muffled by just his hands.
Midoriya Inko dies a few months later and it's Kacchan who's there as always.
It's Kacchan who greets people with him at the entrance. It's rough hands that gently take the envelopes when Izuku's own shake too much.
It's him who stays after everyone else leaves.
"You know she liked you, Kacchan," Izuku says. "Even when we stopped being... even then, she still liked you."
He sees Kacchan still on the other side of the venue before there's the clatter of plates, bowls, and chopsticks again. The rustle of trash bags.
"She shouldn't've," Kacchan ties up a trash bag and opens up a new one. "I was an asshole."
"Was?"
Izuku gets a balled up tissue thrown at his head for that but the small smile on their faces is worth it. For a while. For that moment.
Then he sees the sea of flowers.
"She knew that, I think," Izuku says, a knot in his throat. "But I think Mom liked you because she knew that people can pass me by but you'll always be there by my side."
Midoriya Inko smiles at him, draped in flowers, and Izuku gets a nudge. A gentle hand to come on, dear.
Izuku follows and it's Kacchan who's cleaning up the venue with him that he faces. There's the man who always cooks. The someone who swears at the idiots on TV. Izuku follows his mother's last wish, sees Bakugō Katsuki, and—
—breathes since that lack of words on top of a rooftop.
"You know, Kacchan," Izuku starts, voice shaky. "I know someone who's loved this man for a very long time."
He doesn't look away when Kacchan's head snaps up; when he freezes and stares, eyes burning as always.
Izuku smiles shakily.
"It was admiration at first, yeah?" He says. "Then fondness. Some envy and a lot of awe because this man is someone that great for this someone—so he loves."
Izuku's hands shake as they clutch at his chest.
"He loves this man—this friend."
Izuku's not sure when Kacchan moved but the man—his man's inches away; close but far because he isn't finished.
Not just yet.
"This someone's so, so happy when he and the man finally become friends, confidantes, and partners. Because they're always there and always will."
Izuku swallows. There's a lump and he swallows and swallows but it's hard because Kacchan's here and warm in this cold place.
His hand shakes when reaches for Kacchan.
"But then the man says that he loves this someone, and he—doesn't understand. Not the question or answer."
Izuku's been so weak for the past few days but he manages to hang on. He manages to tighten his grip on Kacchan's chest as if it'll be enough to get that heart.
Maybe it is.
"This someone I know," Izuku says, sobbing. "Only knows friendship as love and anything else is scary.“
Kacchan's still not moving closer or stepping back. His gaze hasn't changed but the beat of the heart under Izuku's palm is enough.
It'll always be.
"And it's not until this someone's sitting in a cold room full of flowers and incense that he's expecting to be held."
Izuku steps close. He's shaking and it doesn't matter because Kacchan's there to ground him, warm fingers wiping away his tears. There's Kacchan's breath, eyes, and love. And Izuku doesn't want 'just.' He doesn't want denials and gut-clenching proposals of loving someone else.
"It's not 'til this someone expected a hand to hold his forever that he wants to understand so..." Izuku whispers, pressing close. "Please, can the man repeat it again?"
When Kacchan kisses him, tears slip in and he's shaking too hard but it's perfect.
"Idiot," Kacchan says in-between over and over. "Idiot, idiot, you fucking idiot."
Izuku laughs into the kisses and the tears never stop coming because Kacchan's holding him and repeating over and over and over—
Until "I love you, Izuku" reaches forever.