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brewstersbru · 6 months ago

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Another bkdk after the leaks so,,, SPOILERS 🧨🥦 boys need to talk

Part of Katsuki wishes he’d stayed dead. At least, then, he wouldn’t have to watch Izuku struggle through losing a quirk he had worked so goddamn hard to master. That still had so much potential.

And, well, he’s a little tired. He’d done something good. Helpful. Kept Shigaraki’s attention away from the others for a bit. Bought some time.

He did what he could, and it wasn’t enough, and he’d made his peace with that. Dying for Izuku was infinitely easier than living like this. Weak, and injured, and liable to cry at any moment, or stray word.

Izuku needs Katsuki to be strong, and Katsuki is failing him.

There are embers. There’s a spark, a possibility, but Izuku isn’t letting himself hope. Katsuki wishes he would, that he’d stop looking so goddamned sad all the time. His eyes were meant to shine.

The hope is heavy, and it hurts a little, but Katsuki has done much worse for Izuku. To Izuku. So he holds it for him, until he’s ready to pick it up himself. He asks about the embers often, little nudges to remind him that it’s not over, yet. Not if he doesn’t let it be.

Izuku tolerates it, the first few times, but he gets snappy after a while, defensive. Katsuki recognizes himself in it, and wonders when they’d started acting so much like each other. But he keeps on because Izuku had never given up on him, not through years of his terrible attitude. He can do this, at least. At the bare fucking minimum.

His arm heals, slowly, but it still hurts when it rains; his chest, too. No one lets him participate in clean-up or relief efforts until he gets an OK from the doctor. Izuku drifts into himself, pulling back from the class, talking less. Katsuki can only watch as he isolates himself, prepares to leave because he can only believe in a sure thing, not measly embers. Katsuki gets it. Getting his hopes up for nothing would break him. But it seems like he’s already breaking, anyway.

Katsuki has quieted, too, but for medical reasons. Although, after the initial shock, he’s found he likes how his classmates treat him for it. They’re tactful, don’t try to rile him. The anger is still there, but it simmers, and most of it is for himself. Whys and what-ifs, internal beratements for not being man enough to actually talk to Izuku, when the other boy had given so much of himself to make Katsuki good. When he’d saved the fucking world.

Part of him is annoyed at Izuku’s refusal to want something for himself, too busy jumping around to help with relief efforts, clinging to the vestiges of a world he’s already counted himself out of. Makes him grind his teeth at night, ‘til his jaw’s sore.

Everything comes to a head—not on the battlefield, not standing opposite one another in a dying city—in the kitchen. Katsuki wanders in, thinking of the ingredients on his shelf, what he could make from them in bulk enough to feed the leeches, and finds Izuku staring up at a jar just slightly out of reach.

Before Katsuki can speak up, offer to grab it for him while dodging accusations of pity—God, is this what he was like?—Izuku bends his knees, once, twice, and jumps. In a fluid set of movements, the jar is snatched off the shelf and he lands, cat-like, on his feet.

Fa Jin. That had looked exactly like Fa Jin, and Katsuki swears there was something green and crackling around his ankles. He almost wants to laugh- how does Izuku not see it? Instead, he asks, “That was the embers, wasn’t it?”

Izuku startles, but nothing more than a slight flinch of his shoulders acknowledges Katsuki’s presence.

“I told you to stop with that.” He says, voice low. Katsuki shrugs and steps further into the room, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Just telling it like I see it. That looked like Fa Jin.”

Izuku snarls and whirls on him.

“Do you like rubbing it in? Fuck, Bakugo, I thought we were past this.”

‘Bakugo’ hurts. Stings and aches somewhere shallow, close to the surface. But he deserves it. Deserves more than that, really, so he takes it on the chin and lets it roll through him. Katsuki averts his eyes.

“I’m not trying to rub anything in, Izuku. Just wish you’d stop taking this shit lying down. There’s a chance. What happened to the Izuku who only needed that much? Who’d reach out and dig his nails into any scrap of a something?” His voice cracks halfway through. Izuku smiles, but there’s no joy in the expression.

“I don’t know what you want from me. ‘That Izuku’ went to war. He couldn’t save anyone. Maybe he’s realizing he’s not cut out for this.”

Katsuki sneers.

“Cut the shit. You’re scared, I get it, but don’t you ever tell me you don’t want to be a hero. Don’t fucking lie.”

“They’re embers! Just embers!” Izuku laughs, a little hysterically. “I can’t be a hero with a dying quirk.”

He’s tugging at his hair, curling in on himself in a way Katsuki hasn’t seen in years. He hates the look of it on him. Wishes he wasn’t the one making him do it, again. It’s necessary, he tells himself, he needs to hear this. Doesn’t make doing it feel any better.

“Embers become flames if you fan them, if you coax them back. You can still be a hero, you just need to start believing that. Stop stifling yourself!” Katsuki takes a deep, watery breath, stepping forward and clutching at his chest, as if that will push the emotions bubbling up back inside. Stupid tear-ducts, it’s like they’re on a hair-trigger these days. At least with Izuku.

“Stop giving up!” He gasps, gritting his teeth to try and stop himself from crying. It’s pointless, trickles of warmth carve their way down his cheeks, thin and slow.

“Fuck.” He mutters to himself, swiping at his eyes and turning his head. Izuku needs to focus on himself right now, not another pathetic mess of tears.

“Kac-Katsuki.” Izuku stumbles, shell-shocked by the sudden shift. This is exactly what Katsuki didn’t want.

“Fuck off.” He says. “Just- just think about it.”

And without even attempting to check his shelf or start preparing dinner—it can wait an hour or two, until he’s calmed down, until Izuku’s left—he turns to leave the room. They’re not getting anywhere. He’s said what he needs to say and it’s up to Izuku whether or not he’ll listen. As much as he fucking hates it, he can’t do more than that. He’s never been good with words, anyway.

Just as he makes it to the doorway, something tugs on his wrist. Too thin to be fingers, more like a rope, but not nearly coarse enough for that, either. It’s familiar, very familiar, but he- that can’t be right. He stops in his tracks.

“Kacchan.” Izuku’s breathless voice sounds from behind him, all previous frustration gone from it. Katsuki furrows his brows and turns his head, slightly, enough to see behind him from the corner of his eye.

Izuku is standing a few feet away, hand outstretched towards him. A thin, black ribbon protrudes from his palm, extending to where it’s wrapped tight around Katsuki’s wrist. Blackwhip. It’s the first true sign that Izuku’s quirk is not all lost. They both stare at the line connecting them, but Katsuki’s gaze quickly wanders. He already knew Izuku was capable of this. He looks into the other boy’s eyes, searching for that spark, and he is not disappointed.

A tiny, glinting shine has come back to his irises, highlighting the green ever so slightly into a bright, clear happiness.

“What’d I tell you, nerd.” Katsuki says, just the slightest bit fond. He presses his fingers to the tendril still curled around his wrist. Izuku’s gaze snaps up to him and he grins. Before Katsuki can ask what the look on his face is about, Izuku thrusts his other hand forward and another tendril unfurls, drifting towards Katsuki and wrapping around his waist.

Izuku then pulls both hands toward himself, hurtling Katsuki towards him at speeds the blond hasn’t felt in far too long. He can’t help the smile creeping onto his lips.

“Thank you.” Izuku whispers, wrapping Katsuki in his arms as soon as he’s in range. Katsuki has to scoff.

“I didn’t do anything.”

Izuku just squeezes tighter. “I couldn’t do this without you. I don’t know what I’d do if- if I ever had to.”

Now that’s just not at all what they were talking about. Something hot and wriggling awakens in Katsuki’s stomach.

“Fuck off.” Then, taking courage from the fact that he doesn’t have to look in Izuku’s eyes as he says this, “And- I- you did save me. Way before I. Y’know.” It’s choppy, near incomprehensible, but Izuku understands. Before he died.

Something warm and wet drips onto Katsuki’s shoulder. Fucking finally. The crybaby needs it. It’s not platitudes, and Izuku knows better than to accuse Katsuki of something like that. Katsuki only says exactly what he means. And it seemed like Izuku needed to hear it.

Can’t go around thinking every goddamn thing is his fault when it isn’t.

Finally, after a few minutes of unsettlingly quiet crying, Izuku speaks.

“Still. You died because of me. I can’t forget that. It’s the second time you’ve put your life on the line for my sake and I can’t- I don’t think I could handle a third.”

His voice is slow, careful around the words as if he’s thought through them a million times. Katsuki sighs, closing his eyes.

“I’d do it again. Will do it again, if I need to. I’m not going to apologize for that, and I’m not going to promise not to.”

Izuku pulls away, brows furrowed as he steps back to look at Katsuki.

“You can’t just throw your life away-“

“It’s not throwing it away if I’m stepping in for a purpose, shithead.”

Still, Izuku shakes his head.

“It is! I don’t care what you’ve told yourself to justify it, I don’t want you to do that anymore. It scares me.”

Emotions keep bobbing up and down in Katsuki’s chest, like buoys in a storm. He scratches at his elbow, unable to meet Izuku’s eyes. They weren’t here to talk about him. They should be celebrating Izuku’s breakthrough, not wasting time with this.

“Izuku, I told you- it’s fine. It’s my life. I choose what I do with it.”

“But that’s just it, it’s my life, too, shouldn’t I get a say in what happens?”

Katsuki grinds his teeth against each other. Now that he’s not shrouded in gloom, Izuku’s back to being just as stubborn and insufferable as ever.

“That’s not the same. Idiot. You’re going to be the next ‘symbol of peace’ or whatever. Fuckton of potential.”

Izuku tilts his head. “What, and you don’t have potential?”

Katsuki looks away.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re joking. Kacchan-“

“I’m injured. It’ll only get worse with time, Izuku. And my quirk can only do so much. Shigaraki was able to kill me because I wasn’t strong enough. If I keep going like this, I won’t be able to get much stronger before I bite it. Might as well use what I’ve got to do something. Make up for the bullshit. I had a lot of time to think, after our talk in the hospital. I’ve made my peace with a life like that. I think it’s a worthwhile goal, keeping you alive.”

Izuku isn’t speaking, but a new wave of tears has started streaming down his face as he shakes his head, frantically. See, this is what Katsuki was trying to avoid. He only looks like that because Katsuki had opened his big fat mouth and ruined the moment. Fuck. He cringes at himself and is gearing up to switch the conversation to something less catastrophic when Izuku speaks.

“Shut up.” He says, voice ragged. “God, shut up. What happened to being the strongest?” When Katsuki doesn’t answer, he continues, nearly snarling. “You want to make up for your shit? Stay alive, then, asshole. Fuck.” He scrubs at his cheeks, muttering to himself. “Right after I fucking told you I couldn’t live without you?”

Katsuki doesn’t think he’s seen Izuku curse like this, well, ever. Maybe he’s rubbing off on him? All he can do is stare, dumbstruck, trying to parse through the words. It’s not like- he isn’t trying to die, it’s just that if it came down to it, and it was his life or Izuku’s, the choice would be easy, he’d make it in an instant.

Katsuki scrubs a hand through his hair. “Okay. Alright, let’s drop this-“

But Izuku isn’t having it. “Promise me.”

“I’ll- fucking- do my best.” Is all Katsuki can manage. Izuku watches him for another minute, dubious, before accepting that’s the best he’s going to get.

With a disbelieving laugh, Katsuki straightens, digging the heel of his palms into his eyes.

“Shit. We weren’t supposed to get into all this at once. Just wanted you to get your spine back.”

There’s a warmth against the back of his neck as Izuku pulls him in for another hug. He can’t find it in himself to protest. It’s just the two of them, and he kind of likes it.

“Thank you, Kacchan.”

The thanks curdles in Katsuki’s gut, unearned and unwanted.

“Don’t thank me yet, I’m enlisting you to help with dinner, now. Since you’re already here.”

Izuku laughs and it feels like fireworks against Katsuki’s ear. He’s missed that sound.

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