Chapter Text
There was blood on Izuku's notebook.
Just one drop.
He stared at it for a long moment before sighing quietly, tearing the page from the spiral binding, and folding it into a neat square.
No one had noticed.
Everyone else in the classroom was busy talking before Aizawa arrived.
Good.
He slipped the stained paper into his bag.
"Oi."
A familiar voice snapped him from his thoughts.
"You gonna stand there all morning, or are you actually going to move?"
Izuku looked up.
Katsuki was already halfway down the aisle, hands shoved into his pockets, glaring over his shoulder like merely existing near him was an inconvenience.
"S-Sorry."
"Tch."
That was all.
It wasn't unusual.
It hadn't been unusual for years.
Izuku smiled anyway.
"Morning, Kacchan."
Katsuki didn't answer.
⸻
The semester had settled into a rhythm.
Morning classes.
Combat training.
Lunch with Uraraka, Todoroki, Tsuyu, and Iida.
Afternoon lectures.
Homework.
Repeat.
Normal.
It almost made Izuku forget.
Almost.
Halfway through lunch, something scratched the back of his throat.
He froze.
Not now.
He swallowed.
The scratching only worsened.
"Deku?" Uraraka tilted her head. "You okay?"
"Mhm." He smiled too quickly. "I just... need some water."
He stood so abruptly his chair scraped across the floor.
"I'll be right back."
Before anyone could stop him, he hurried from the cafeteria.
His footsteps echoed through the hallway.
Faster.
Faster.
He barely reached the nearest restroom before doubling over.
"—!"
The first cough burned.
The second stole his breath.
The third left crimson droplets splattered across the sink.
Something soft landed beside them.
A petal.
Deep crimson.
Izuku stared at it.
Then another fell.
And another.
Five petals rested in the sink beside streaks of blood.
"...Already?"
His voice sounded strangely calm.
He rinsed everything away before anyone could see.
The petals disappeared down the drain.
As if they'd never existed.
⸻
The diagnosis came two weeks later.
The doctor spoke gently.
Too gently.
"Hanahaki Disease is extremely rare."
Izuku nodded.
"I know."
"It develops after prolonged unrequited love."
"I know."
"The flowers will continue growing."
"I know."
The doctor hesitated.
"There are only two treatments."
Izuku already knew those, too.
Confess.
Or surgery.
The surgery would save his life.
It would also erase every feeling and memory connected to the person he loved.
Every laugh.
Every smile.
Every shared childhood memory.
Every reason he'd become the person he was.
It wouldn't just erase love.
It would erase Katsuki.
"I'll think about it."
The doctor looked at him with tired eyes.
"Please don't think for too long."
⸻
"Bakubro!"
Kirishima caught up beside him after combat training.
"Dude, you were brutal today."
"So?"
"You nearly blew Midoriya through the wall."
"He dodged."
"Barely."
Katsuki clicked his tongue.
"He needs to stop hesitating."
Kirishima blinked. "That's what you're worried about?"
"I'm worried he's still holding back."
Katsuki shoved a towel over his shoulder.
"If he's gonna be a hero, he can't keep moving like he's afraid of breaking."
Across the gym, Izuku laughed quietly with Todoroki.
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
He looked happy.
Katsuki looked away first.
"Tch."
⸻
That evening, Class 1-A filled the dorm lounge with homework, games, and arguments over what movie to watch.
Izuku sat on the couch with a notebook balanced on his knees.
"So if we adjusted Tokoyami's positioning during..."
He stopped writing.
His chest tightened.
Not again.
"Deku?"
He smiled.
"I'll be right back."
He left before anyone could question him.
The hallway was empty.
He pressed one hand against his mouth.
The cough came anyway.
Blood.
Petals.
This time there were seven.
One landed softly in his palm.
It was beautiful.
A deep red camellia petal.
He'd looked it up after the diagnosis.
A red camellia means "You're the flame in my heart."
"How fitting."
He laughed once.
It sounded painfully small.
He threw the petals away before returning downstairs.
Nobody noticed.
Nobody ever did.
Except Katsuki.
For the briefest moment, as Izuku sat back down on the couch, Katsuki frowned.
"Deku."
Izuku looked over.
"What?"
"You look like crap."
The words were as blunt as ever.
But they lingered.
Izuku smiled.
"I'll be okay."
Katsuki scoffed.
"Tch. Whatever."
He looked away.
The conversation lasted less than ten seconds.
Neither of them realized it was the first time Katsuki had asked if Izuku was all right in years.
Neither of them realized there would be many more petals before either of them found the courage to say what actually mattered.