Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Izuku found himself falling deeper into the sense of complete and utter detachment from the world around him after that conversation with his mother. Even more so than usual. He felt hypocritical for obsessing over Katsuki’s struggles with socialising when, in truth, he and himself had long withdrawn from anyone who’d ever tried to get close to him.

He'd linked it back to Aldera Junior High.

Of course, he had.

Katsuki wasn’t the sole perpetrator of his torment. He was more like the instigator — a catalyst for every snide comment, every cruel prank, and every ounce of humiliation that had loomed over Izuku for the good majority of his early teenage years.

He could still remember the whispers in the halls, the way people pointed and snickered behind their hands. And it wasn't those people who bothered him. No, they were just sheep following the crowd. Brainless idiots who didn't consider how badly they were hurting another person.

It was the way Katsuki had been the one to drive every friend Izuku had ever had away from him.

It was the way that even so many years later, as a full-grown adult, he still flinched at the thought of letting someone in. Which was probably why he'd assumed Kirishima had even had ulterior motives in the first place.

He'd eventually come to realise how idiotic that idea was, after a good long think. Kirishima wasn't somebody Izuku saw himself ever being able to be friends with. Not at first. He was loud, constantly exclaiming how things were so 'manly', and he honestly had the personality of an over-excited dog. And Izuku was more of a cat person.

But no, after giving him a good chance, he found they actually had some real common interests. They talked about comic book series that were popular, and found they they both had a thing for older series too. He also discovered that Kirishima had been a massive Spiderman nerd ever since he'd debuted. Which wasn't hard to figure out after being invited over to his dorm and seeing the ridiculous amount of posters on his walls.

He'd even asked for a signature.

Which was kind of sweet, admittedly.

He even knew about Izuku's first-ever ever spider-suit which he'd only ever ventured out in the once. It was just a green hoodie, leggings, and a balaclava with sunglasses stuck onto it in place of the eyes. It was horrendous, and Izuku knew it would not hold up.

But in other terms, he found that he genuinely was developing somewhat of a friendship with the boisterous redhead. As reluctant as he still was. Kirishima had even invited Izuku to go to the Spring Innovation Expo which was a yearly thing held at MITech. A large-scale event where students got the chance to showcase their projects, prototypes, and research to faculty, alumni, and even industry professionals.

It was a huge opportunity for those looking to get scouted by a company. And great for those more into the engineering side of things. And of course, Kirishima, who was majoring in sports engineering, couldn't have been any more ecstatic.

Izuku was majoring in engineering himself, but he hadn't made anything he thought would be good enough for the watchful eyes of real professionals. All his best work was tied up in Spiderman. His web formulas, his suit design — everything he’d poured his heart into wasn’t exactly the kind of thing he could present to a team of professionals without blowing his cover.

Perfecting his web-shooters was not an easy task. And it wasn’t exactly something he could slap on a poster board for the Expo.

Still, Kirishima was persistent, and part of Izuku couldn’t help but feel a tug of curiosity about the whole thing. Katsuki had refused because he had no interest in public events like that, which weren't specifically catered towards his interests. And that sounded about right for him.

But Kirishima's puppy dog eyes were a true silent killer for Izuku in making him agree to tag along.

Another thing that led him to the agreement was the fact that Enji Todoroki, the prestigious CEO of Endeavour Corporation, or EndCorp, would be there too. Ironically, EndCorp was where Izuku had interned on his winter break during his final year at Shiketsu.

Where he'd gotten the spider bite in the first place.

It was still an up-and-coming company back then. But it'd recently made some real breakthroughs with genetic modification, and Enji Todoroki had managed to really make a name for himself in the bioengineering field.

Izuku had always admired him, and he was a close second in his eyes, up against his real favourite. Toshinori Yagi, or A.M., as he was nicknamed in the biochemistry field. Apparently standing for 'Allosteric Mechanisms', since it was something Toshinori was passionate about when it came to his work in the field.

And he's Izuku's biochemistry professor.

Which of course, was one of the best things to ever happen to him and he still cries about it sometimes.

Getting into MITech was like a complete dream come true. He'd spent his entire life waiting to pursue the sciences. His interest stemmed from his father, Hisashi Midoriya, who was a once-promising scientist in the field of genetic engineering. Zuku' had always admired his father’s intelligence, his innovative ideas, and his dreams of changing the world. Though he was young back then, and he couldn't exactly understand it all.

Hisashi’s ambition had pushed him to the forefront of his field, but it also made him distant, emotionally unavailable, and largely absent from Izuku’s childhood. He was a man consumed by his career, chasing recognition and breakthroughs, while Inko and Izuku were left waiting for scraps of his attention.

Izuku childishly once believed that if he pursued something in the same field, something that held his father’s attention, maybe that would be the key to finally getting him to notice. That it would make him come home more often, spending time with him as a real father should.

That wasn't the case.

Izuku was around eight years old when he disappeared. He took all of his work with him, upped and left, and Izuku and his mother never saw him again. Strange men in suits arrived at their house and searched each and every room, breaking the news that Hisashi had apparently died in an airplane crash after attempting to flee Japan. For some completely unknown reason.

It had always plagued Izuku. And though his father's passing was tragic, he'd detached himself from it long ago. Still — his interests never faltered. And it always led back to him.

. . .

It was the day of the Expo, and Kirishima had turned up bright and early at Izuku and Katsuki's dorm — banging incessantly on their front door until the viridian-haired boy straggled up from his bed to go and answer it. He saw Katsuki sitting on one of the sofas, staring at him through thick lashes, glare as piercing as ever. He looked to be eating a bowl of cereal, but when Izuku walked down the hallway he just paused and stared at him.

And of course, it was Izuku's cereal he was eating. The one he'd stuck a label on that clearly read, 'IZUKU'S, DON'T EAT!'.

But it was so early, that he couldn't even be bothered arguing it. Or to argue why Katsuki hadn't answered the door for him. Instead, he just huffed in groggy annoyance and moved to open the door — staring at the familiar face he was expecting to see on the other side of the ridiculous amount of knocking.

"Midoriya!" Kirishima beamed, leaning against the doorway casually, grin as wide as ever. He then stared at him for a moment — before raising an eyebrow. "Why aren't you dressed?"

"It's nine." Izuku hummed, his voice low and his eyes half-lidded from lack of sleep. He'd been up late on patrol, too. And Kirishima knew that. So he was even more annoyed with him.

"Yeah it starts at twelve, we have to get there early!" Kirishima beamed, to which Izuku took in a big deep breath. He heard Katsuki chortling to himself quietly from behind him, along with the sound of the television in the background.

Izuku exhaled after a fair few moments of extremely sharp inhalation.

Before slamming the door in his face.

He then just stood there for a moment, staring at the wood, blinking at it.

"I'd have done the same," Katsuki chimed in, amused. "You never are a morning guy, he should know that by now." Izuku caught the faintest flicker of annoyance in his tone. He turned his head back to meet Katsuki's gaze, seeing him now sat with his arms crossed, the empty bowl of cereal on the coffee table in front of him.

"Do you have a pr—" Izuku started, before the bangs on the door began again, making Izuku jump nervously. Kirishima could be heard on the other side of it.

"Midoriya, I'm sorry for waking you up early! At least let me come in, it's started to rain!" He shouted, muffled through the wood. "Come on, we can just chill in your room for a bit dude, or you can nap, I'm cool with that!"

Katsuki suddenly stood up, his brows lowered as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants — scowling at Izuku as he walked down the hallway towards his room. It took him an awful long few moments to rip his stare away from Izuku's, too.

What the hell was that about?

And why the hell does he seem genuinely pissed?

Izuku shoved his thoughts away, moving to open the door, to see that the 'rain' Kirishima was referring to was merely spitting.

"You are so fucking annoying," Izuku muttered, before allowing him in and moving to walk towards the fridge — grabbing himself an energy drink and cracking it open. "Next time, at least give me a heads up if you're gonna show up early. I didn't sleep great." He hummed before he began swallowing the cool liquid, adams apple bobbing up and down as he did, head tilted right back as he swallowed the entire can. He then crushed it with a mere squeeze of his fingers, a clear show of super-strength. He threw it straight into the trash can — landing it with a clang against the metal before beckoning Kirishima to follow him with his head before walking down the hall.

If Kirishima wasn't incredibly straight, he'd be hard as a rock.

Shit, he even had to glance down just to check if he was wrong about the straight part.

Phew! He wasn't.

. . .

The pair spent the next few hours killing time, playing video games — talking about recent escapades Izuku had gone through as Spiderman. Very, very quietly. Izuku was already paranoid enough that Katsuki was upset with him. And if he overheard the conversations they were having? God, he didn't even want to imagine what the outcome would be.

Eventually, after Izuku spent a good hour sprucing himself up to look at least somewhat presentable for the plethora of well-known names that would be at the event, they set off for the Expo. Kirishima had set up his stall the evening prior, and from what Izuku was told, he was in for a treat. But he really wasn't sure what a sports engineering student could classify as a 'treat' for him. Given his own complete lack of interest. But still, he wanted to support...his, friend.

Charcoal.

He pushed that reluctant feeling down as far as he possibly could, and after a short walk through the bustling campus, they arrived at the hall where the Expo was being held. It was sprawling with students, professors, scientists and anyone you could even dream to expect would be there. And to Izuku's surprise, it surpassed his original expectations. He thought it'd be a dull, and boring event. But no, it was more vibrant than anything and felt more like a blend of a high-tech carnival and a nerd convention than anything he'd imagined.

The entire hall buzzed with energy, a symphony of voices, electronic beeps, and the hum of machinery creating an electric atmosphere that only showcased the raw passion and intelligence of his fellow students.

It was inspiring, actually.

Izuku had been so caught up in being Spiderman, and dealing with the ridiculous amount of unsolved tension that he and Katsuki were juggling, that he'd forgotten all about how much he'd dreamed of even being at MITech in the first place. He had a moment of sheer appreciation — just stood there at the door gawking at the amount of life around him. He felt, strangely, at home. And then he felt a hand on his shoulder, and all of a sudden he was snapped out of his daydream.

"I need to go to my stall, if you grab one of those little leaflets over there, you can come and find me in like fifteen minutes!" Kirishima pointed towards a table where a student was sat handing out fliers and welcoming people. "Have fun, dude!" Kirishima waved, and Izuku didn't even have time to react before Kirishima was waddling off into the crowds of people. Perhaps they should've arrived early after all.

He hadn't considered how he'd be alone for at least the beginning of the event. Considering, Kirishima was going to be setting up his display for whatever invention he'd created. That left him to be forced to... interact with people.

Izuku took a deep and shaky breath, staring down to his red sneakers, before swallowing his pride and strolling over to the table where the leaflets were being handed out. He took one, smiling gently at the purple-haired man who'd handed him it. The guy looked like he hadn't slept in weeks. Which made Izuku feel slightly more appreciative of the sleep he had actually managed to get, even if it wasn't much.

Before long, he was wandering through the stalls — appreciating the scenery around him. The hall looked even bigger than he was used to seeing it, with it being so full of life. Holographic screens projecting schedules, announcements, and live feeds from various stalls were hanging high above the crowds. He found himself staring up at them for a few moments longer than he should've been whilst walking, bumping into a table and knocking off a small diorama of what looked to be some sort of mini prototype for a pair of cloud-like boots. With his senses, he put his hand out to catch them almost instantaneously — clutching them gently before glancing up to see a brown-haired girl who he instantly recognised.

"Nice catch, Midoriya!" She beamed. Izuku just stared at her. Pink puffy cheeks, shoulder-length brown hair. Massive brown eyes. Yea, he knew her. This girl was in his engineering class — they'd had a project together in his first year. He'd been put in a trio with her and another man, who he now saw was standing right next to her, fixing his glasses and lightly nodding at Izuku in approval.

"Thaaaanks.....uhh—" Izuku drawled, trying to think of her name, and only coming up with a blank. Which was incredibly awkward, since they'd been in the same class together for over a year and a half now. And he'd even worked with them on the project. Though admittedly, he had slacked a little given the boy with the vermillion eyes and midnight blue hair had been a bit of a perfectionist and had sort of done all the work for them anyway.

"Ochako, Ochako Uraraka! Don't worry, I know you're a bit of a lone wolf, I totally get it." She hummed gently, before taking out her hands to take the mini prototypes from Izuku's grip. She placed them down gently back onto the table, before glancing to Iida next to her. Izuku, somehow, had actually managed to remember his name. Given how he always spoke up in lessons, being a bit of a teacher's pet despite how they were literally university students.

"Iida, right?" Izuku said pointedly, before nodding and bringing his hand to his chin — glancing down to the prototype once more. "We made these together, and we're hoping to develop a version that can hover, and Iida's interested in maybe even trying a version that can help with running super duper fast!" Ochako beamed, to which Izuku's eyes widened and he found himself amused by the interesting concepts.

"Absolutely, I think if we put the further work in we can certainly create something Professor Aizawa will approve of," Tenya cut in, referring to their engineering teacher. Izuku just huffed in amusement. "Seems pretty cool, you'll have to show me when you've completed a full model rather than a miniature." He tilted his head to the side, hands falling to his flanks. He glanced up — noticing the blush on Ochako's face rising.

"O- Of course!" She stuttered out, before nodding incessantly. He then noticed how Tenya seemed to nudge her with his elbow, which made Uraraka stutter out some further words. "Would you—" she paused, "would you maybe like to... hang out with us... sometime?" Her voice heightened with each word.

Izuku was completely taken aback. But seeing the look of pride on Iida's face, and the way Ochako looked to have been so nervous to have asked that question, he figured that perhaps this had been something they'd spoken about for a while now. And he couldn't even fathom how anyone would want to hang out with him. Let alone look for an opportunity to ask him.

It made his heart swell in his chest, and he felt like falling to his knees and crying right then and there. But on the outside — he just dead-panned. "Yeah, cool. I'd like that."

OH MY GOD, THIS ISN'T HAPPENING!

ME?!?!? THEY WANT TO HANG OUT, WITH MEEEE? MEEEEEE?!?!?!?

"We should like, share numbers or whatever." He paused, taking out his phone from the pocket of his jeans to slide it onto the table — hand trembling slightly. "Yeah," Izuku added, trying to act nonchalant about it, but inside his emotions were a complete cesspool. Playing it cool was proving difficult.

"Awesome!" Ochako grinned widely, taking his phone to type in digits. Iida was smiling gently down at her — clearly appreciating how excited she seemed to be that Izuku was actually engaging socially. After a few minutes of brief back-and-forth small talk, Izuku eventually set off to go and find Kirishima's stall. It'd been more than fifteen minutes now, so he was sure he'd be all set up by now.

He glanced towards the central stage stood at the back of the hall as he walked in the direction of Kirishima's stall, where keynote speakers, including professors and industry leaders like Enji Todoroki would be addressing the crowd later on into the afternoon. He almost jumped up and down in excitement at the mere thought, but calmed himself. He hoped that A.M. would be giving at least a small speech — but he seemed rather sickly these days so it'd make sense if he didn't want to address a huge crowd.

Still, here was to hoping!

It was proving to be a rather exciting day for Izuku, regardless.

Izuku couldn't help but chuckle as he approached Kirishima's stall, the vibrant crimson banner catching his eye immediately. The hand-drawn caricature of Kirishima, complete with his signature spiky hair and shark-toothed grin — was equal parts hilarious and charming. He suspected Mina was behind the doodle, given how much Kirishima had mentioned her in passing. Their on-again, off-again love story was something Izuku found oddly comforting. No matter how many "finding themselves" breaks they went on, they always seemed to circle back to one another.

It was sweet, in a chaotic sort of way.

The banner was a loud declaration of Kirishima's presence and project, reading, "Next-Gen Protective Gear: High-Impact Resistance with Maximum Mobility!!!!! By the red-riot KIRISHIMA!!!!!" Each exclamation point seemed to demand attention, and the excessive underlining made it clear how much enthusiasm Kirishima poured into this project. Izuku smiled to himself, finding it perfectly on-brand for him.

As he waded through the small crowd surrounding the stall, Izuku finally got a clear view of Kirishima in action. The sports engineering student was decked out in his own protective gear — a tight black compression shirt paired with sleek, lightweight shoulder and knee pads. The design was practical, but there was something undeniably stylish about the way it hugged his athletic build.

Kirishima was putting the gear through its paces, hammering the shoulder pad with a literal crowbar. Each swing landed with a loud clang, but the pad absorbed every blow without so much as a scratch. The crowd murmured in approval, impressed by the sheer durability of the material. Kirishima grinned, clearly feeding off their energy, and moved to demonstrate the gear’s versatility.

Next to him was a mannequin sporting the same compression shirt. Kirishima picked up a blade from the table and, with a dramatic flair, slashed at the material. The blade glided harmlessly across the surface, leaving the shirt completely intact. He even tugged at the fabric afterwards to prove there were no hidden reinforcements.

Izuku couldn’t deny it — it was genuinely impressive. The way Kirishima managed to balance durability and mobility in the same piece of gear was no small feat. He could already imagine athletes, first responders, and even the military clamouring for something like this. And he wondered the materials behind it, noting to himself to ask later on to see if he could make any further improvements to his own Spiderman suit. Which he knew Kirishima would be immediately on board with.

And that thought alone felt, nice.

Kirishima spotted him in the crowd and waved excitedly, his sharp-toothed grin spreading wide. “Izuku! You're here!” Izuku gave a small, awkward wave in return, trying not to feel too out of place amid the crowd of spectators. He'd also noticed how Kirishima had called him by his first name, which was... new.

"This is… really impressive, Kirishima. You’ve outdone yourself.” Izuku smiled weakly, lifting his hand to rub the back of his neck.

“Thanks, man!” Kirishima’s voice boomed with pride as he gestured to the gear. “This baby’s been my passion project all semester. Took me forever to get the balance right, but now it’s practically indestructible and super comfy to wear!”

Izuku nodded, genuinely impressed. “It shows. The design is actually really cool, and the functionality is… well, kind of amazing.” Kirishima grinned even wider, if that were possible, and slapped a hand on Izuku’s shoulder. “Coming from you, that means a lot. You’re, like, a complete genius, dude!”

Izuku flushed at the compliment, mumbling something incoherent as Kirishima turned back to his audience to continue his demonstration. For a moment, Izuku allowed himself to relax, caught up in Kirishima’s infectious enthusiasm. It was moments like this that made him realize how much he appreciated having someone like Kirishima in his corner — genuine, supportive, and undeniably passionate. It wasn't so bad to have a friend.

He spent the next few hours watching Kirishima tire himself out, taking minimal breaks in between testing out his gear. He learnt that he'd used smart materials like shear-thickening fluid, which hardens on impact and remains flexible otherwise in the creation of the gear. It was actually really interesting, and Izuku figured they actually had a lot more in common than he'd originally thought. Just because Kirishima focused on sports, didn't mean they didn't have some common ground in their subjects. He'd realised he'd really not given him a chance with that. And admitted after all, that he really had been in for a treat.

Before long, everyone was called to attention and gathered towards the stage Izuku'd had a watchful eye on all day, acknowledging the people who were giving speeches from the large screens playing the footage. But none had actually caught his interest fully. Now, he was eagerly making his way with Kirishima to a seat — the crowd murmuring in the background, eager for Enji Todoroki to take the stage.

As the room settled into a hush of anticipation, Izuku found himself scanning the crowd. Everyone’s attention was firmly glued to the stage as the booming announcer’s voice echoed through the hall, introducing the next speaker.

"Now, taking the stage on behalf of EndCorp," the voice declared, "please welcome our very own student here at MITech, Shoto Todoroki!"

Izuku blinked, completely caught off guard.

The murmurs of surprise rippled through the audience like a gust of wind. This was unexpected. Where was Enji Todoroki? For someone so high-profile and expected to headline, his absence was unusual. Yet, as Shoto Todoroki ascended the stage, the murmurs quickly turned to captivated silence.

Shoto looked as though he’d stepped out of a high-fashion editorial. His tailored dark suit was as sharp as his bone structure, and the sleek metallic cuffs on his sleeves gave him an air of elegance. His two-toned hair gleamed under the stage lights — cherry red and white, perfectly framing his striking appearance. Even with that scar on his eye, he was nothing short of breathtaking.

Izuku swallowed his bisexuality demons as fast as they arose.

Shoto adjusted the microphone with a measured, almost languid grace, scanning the room with a cool, impassive expression. It was the kind of presence that demanded attention without asking for it, effortlessly commanding the room without a word.

Izuku’s eyes widened.

It wasn’t every day that someone like Shoto Todoroki graced a public stage. He was a near-mythical figure on campus — brilliant, elusive, and ridiculously unattainable. Rumours swirled around him like moths to a flame. Some said he spent more time abroad than at MITech, jet-setting between research summits and fashion shows. Others whispered about the family drama behind the Todoroki name, about Shoto’s strained relationship with his father, and hearsay about his older brother, who had disappeared from the limelight entirely. But none of that diminished the sheer magnetism Shoto carried alone.

And now, here he was, taking Enji Todoroki's place.

Izuku leaned forward in his seat, his curiosity piqued. Shoto Todoroki wasn’t just a figurehead for EndCorp, he was a name in his own right. Renowned for his groundbreaking work in sustainable engineering, he was said to be the driving force behind many of the company’s recent innovations. And he was also said to be the person who would eventually take his father's place and continue the company one day. The fact that he balanced this alongside a high-profile modelling career made his achievements seem almost otherworldly.

“Man, he’s got the whole crowd in the palm of his hand, and he hasn’t even said anything yet,” Kirishima muttered beside him, leaning back in his chair. Izuku nodded absently, too engrossed in the scene unfolding on stage to respond.

When Shoto finally spoke, his voice was calm and even, with just the slightest edge of detachment. “Good afternoon,” he began, his tone resonating through the hall. “I’m standing here today in place of my father, who regrets that he could not attend. But rest assured, EndCorp’s commitment to innovation remains unwavering. He would have loved to be here.” His words seemed rather dry, but still, the crowd was completely engrossed.

Izuku’s heart quickened. He couldn’t help but admire the way Shoto carried himself — balanced and unflinching. The crowd seemed to hang on his every word as he continued, outlining EndCorp’s latest initiatives in biochemistry and engineering. His presentation was concise and methodical, punctuated by sharp insights that revealed his own deeper understanding of the field.

Izuku listened intently, his analytical mind already racing to process the ideas Shoto presented. Still, there was something enigmatic about the man before him, something Izuku couldn’t quite put his finger on. For all his elegance and composure, Shoto seemed… distant. As though he were holding the world at arm’s length, even as he was standing in the spotlight.

Izuku couldn’t help but wonder what it was like to live in Shoto’s shoes — to balance such a wildly different life from him and still manage to excel so much. It was a life so far removed from his own that it felt almost surreal. Then again, he was literally Spiderman. So, he couldn't really feel envious.

And yet, there was something about Shoto’s passion for innovation, his dedication to meaningful work, that resonated with Izuku on a deeply personal level. As Shoto concluded his speech, the audience erupted into applause. Izuku joined in, his hands clapping loudly as he exchanged a look with Kirishima, who whistled appreciatively.

“Man, that guy’s intense,” Kirishima said, shaking his head. “But you gotta respect him. He’s like a walking legend.”

Izuku nodded, his thoughts still spinning. As Shoto descended the stage, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t the last time their paths would cross. There was something about Shoto Todoroki — something extraordinary. And as Izuku watched him blend seamlessly back into the crowd, he made a quiet vow to himself.

One day, he’d work alongside people like Shoto. Maybe even Shoto himself. He just had to keep pushing forward.

The rest of the day had gone really well, surprisingly. He was at least expecting for something to go wrong, or for him to get an alert of a news report of some massive crime that he'd have to swing in and stop. But no, it went smoothly. He and Kirishima parted ways in the centre of the campus — and he'd noticed after departing from him, that the other man seemed to be staring at his phone in what could only be described as puzzlement.

. . .

Katsuki isn’t an idiot.

Something was seriously wrong.

Then again, when wasn't it?

Something had shifted, and he didn't realise at what point it had — but he'd been ripped out of his preoccupation with Spiderman and veered his fixations onto something else.

Something deeper.

He’d spent years honing his ability to read a situation — trusting his gut, dissecting people’s intentions before they even knew them themselves. It had always been his edge, his weapon in a world full of idiots fumbling around, blind to the obvious.

And his instincts? They were screaming at him now.

It wasn’t just that Izuku was weird — he’d always been weird, ever since they were kids. Always muttering, always twitchy, always overthinking himself into a frenzy. Or crying himself breathless, at least as kids. But this was something else entirely. There was something about the way Izuku moved these days, how he always seemed to be running somewhere with that frantic energy, like he was chasing — or maybe running from something — something Katsuki couldn’t see.

And as much as he'd grown out of many of his childish habits, and evolved into somebody unlike anything he remembered Izuku to be — his melancholy was different now. Katsuki had sat back and waited for Izuku to come to him for months. Because he didn't think he deserved to confront the issue himself. He'd learnt not to be so selfish, trying to consider other people's boundaries and what they themselves were prepared for.

And Izuku was the furthest thing from appearing prepared.

That was fine.

Even if it ate him up.

Even if that same damn look on Izuku's face that constantly appeared like he was three seconds away from breaking down made him feel violently nauseated just from the sight of it. And it only ever seemed to come out around Katsuki.

And, of course, there was the newfound anomaly in the equation, that Katsuki couldn't stand.

Kirishima.

Katsuki clenched his teeth, his jaw working as he stomped his way down the cracked concrete path toward the skatepark just off campus. He didn’t know what pissed him off more, how close Kirishima and Izuku had seemed to have gotten, or the fact that Kirishima — his supposed best friend — hadn’t bothered telling him a damn thing about whatever was going on. And why the hell he'd gotten so close with Izuku.

It wasn’t like Kirishima to be secretive. He was an open book, practically wearing his heart on his sleeve. But now there were these moments —weird moments — where he’d cut himself off mid-sentence or look guilty as hell anytime Katsuki pressed him about Izuku. And Katsuki wasn’t the kind of person to let something so obvious like that slide.

He was going to get answers, one way or another.

And he was going to get out his pent-up emotions.

The skatepark loomed into view, just a few blocks from campus. They used to come here all the time during their first year at MITech — back when Katsuki cared more about grinding rails and skipping classes than showing up to lectures because he always passed exams regardless. It was the one place he and Kirishima could shoot the shit without the weight of expectations hanging over their heads.

And it was pretty nice that he'd managed to stay close with at least somebody from U.A. High, even if it was merely because they'd ended up bumping into each other at the campus gym. And as much as he tried not to allow himself to get too close to the redhead, he'd heard Kirishima refer to him as his 'best friend' many a time. And that fact alone always made him feel a bit guilty.

Katsuki hadn't asked Kirishima to meet him at the skatepark to hang out, no, he had deeper intentions. And he'd asked him to meet up specifically around the time when he knew the Expo would be ending. The sun hung low on the horizon, shades of burnt orange melted into deep crimson, spreading like spilt ink into soft streaks of magenta and lavender. It was beautiful, actually. But now wasn't the time to appreciate some shitty sunset.

He spotted the redhead sitting on one of the low concrete ledges, a beat-up deck balanced across his knees that he'd probably run back to his dorm to grab before heading to the skatepark. Kirishima noticed him almost instantly, lifting a hand in a lazy wave, his grin as bright and easygoing as ever.

Katsuki wasn't holding his board.

He hadn't even considered bringing it.

“Yo, Bakugo! Thought you’d bail,” Kirishima called out, his voice echoing out across the empty park. Bearing his sharp canines with that stupid insufferable grin.

“I asked you, not the other way around.” Katsuki snapped back, stalking toward him.

Kirishima chuckled lazily, patting the ledge beside him. “What’s up, man? You’ve got that look on your face again. The one that tells me you're about three seconds away from kicking someone's ass."

“Damn right, I do.” Katsuki stopped in front of him, crossing his arms. His crimson eyes bored into Kirishima’s, sharp and unrelenting. “Start talking, shitty-hair.”

Kirishima blinked, confused. “Talking? About what?”

“Don’t play dumb with me,” Katsuki growled. “You’ve been acting weird as hell ever since you got all buddy-buddy with the nerd. You’re hiding something, and I’m not leaving until you tell me what it is.”

Kirishima’s grin faltered. For the first time in years, Katsuki saw him squirm. He looked down at his board, tapping his fingers against the scuffed wood.

“C’mon, man. It’s not like that —”

“Bullshit." Katsuki’s voice cut through the air like a whip. “You’re a terrible liar, Kirishima. I know something’s going on with you and him, and you know exactly what it is. So spill it.”

Kirishima sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. “Look, Bakugo, it’s not my place to say, alright? It’s... complicated.”

“Complicated my ass,” Katsuki spat. “What, you think I can’t handle it? You think I don’t have a right to know?”

“It’s not about you!” Kirishima snapped, his voice bordering a shout. Katsuki froze, caught off guard. Kirishima rarely raised his voice, let alone at him. “It’s about him. And if you care about him half as much as I think you do, you’ll let him tell you in his own time.”

The words hit Katsuki like a punch to the gut. He stepped back, his fists clenching at his sides. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Kirishima said, softer now, “that maybe you should stop looking for answers and start paying attention to the guy right in front of you. Because whatever he’s dealing with? It’s not something he can just say. You’ve gotta let him trust you first, you know. Let the cat come to you.”

Katsuki had one brief conversation with him about how he was waiting for Izuku to talk to him about their past together — and he recalled the way Kirishima had used some shitty analogy like 'treat him like a hesitant cat', 'just hold out a treat and wait for him to take it himself.' Or something idiotic like that.

He hated how it had sort of stuck.

Katsuki scowled, the fight draining out of him. He hated this — hated feeling like he was being shut out of something important. But Kirishima’s words struck a chord. Deep down, he knew he’d been too caught up in his own frustration to even consider Izuku in it.

Still, it didn’t make the knot in his stomach go away.

Kirishima must’ve sensed the shift in Katsuki’s demeanour because he let out a sigh of relief, leaning back on his palms. The tension between them lightened, if only slightly, as Katsuki stood there, hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets, gaze fixed somewhere over Kirishima’s head.

“I get it, man,” Kirishima said after a beat, his voice softer now. “You’re worried about him. I would be too. Hell, I am. But trust me, pushing him too hard? That’s not gonna help.”

“Tch,” Katsuki muttered, kicking at a stray pebble near his foot. “You think I don’t know that? I’m not a total dumbass.”

Kirishima raised a brow, his grin threatening to return. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“Keep talking, and I’ll make you eat that damn skateboard.”

The redhead laughed, and Katsuki hated how it managed to ease some of the tension knotting up his chest. Kirishima always had a way of diffusing his bad moods — whether it was intentional or not.

“Alright, alright,” Kirishima said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “But seriously, Bakugo... You don’t have to do this alone. You’re not the only one who cares about him, y’know? We’re both there for him.”

Katsuki stiffened at that, his eyes narrowing. The implication didn’t sit right with him. Kirishima’s words were harmless enough on the surface, but there was something about the way he said we’re both there for him that made Katsuki’s stomach churn.

Was that it?

Was that what had been bothering him this whole time? The idea that Kirishima might be closer to Izuku than he was? That the redhead had somehow managed to carve out a space in Izuku’s life that Katsuki couldn’t reach?

The thought made him sick.

“Yeah, well,” Katsuki grumbled, looking away. “Don’t get too comfortable. I don’t need you playing babysitter.”

Kirishima tilted his head, giving him a knowing look. “It’s not about babysitting, dude. It’s about being his friend.”

Katsuki flinched at the word, guilt prickling under his skin. He’d been a lot of things to Izuku over the years — none of which he’d describe as friend. Rival? Sure. Enemy? At times. A constant, unrelenting presence in his life, even in absence? Always. But a friend? That was uncharted territory and had remained that way since they were toddlers.

And maybe that was the problem.

Kirishima must’ve noticed the flicker of doubt in Katsuki’s expression because he stood up, brushing off his pants and slinging his board under one arm.

“Look,” he said, his voice somehow even gentler. “I know it’s hard for you to just sit back and wait. But you don’t have to figure it all out right now. Just... be there for him when he’s ready. That’s all you can do.”

Katsuki didn’t respond, his jaw tight as he stared at the ground. He hated this feeling — the uncertainty, the helplessness. It wasn’t like him. He was a man of action, someone who faced problems head-on and dealt with them. But this? This wasn’t a problem he could punch his way through.

Katsuki’s silence stretched too long, his fists clenching at his sides, his knuckles white with tension. He hated everything about this conversation — how it made him feel small and useless like he didn’t have the right to intervene in whatever was going on with Izuku and Kirishima.

But most of all, he hated the way Kirishima talked about Izuku like he understood him better than Katsuki ever could.

It burned in his chest like a live wire.

“You think you’ve got him all figured out, huh?” Katsuki growled, his voice low and sharp, his crimson eyes snapping to Kirishima. “You think you deserve to act like you know what’s best for him? Like you’re the only one who gives a damn?”

Kirishima blinked, taken aback by the sudden venom in Katsuki’s tone.

“Whoa, hold up — what the hell are you talking about?”

“You don’t get it,” Katsuki spat, his voice rising now, unfiltered anger spilling out. “You think you’re so special, just because you’ve got him to talk to you. Like that makes you his best friend or something. Like I’m not even in the damn picture.”

“Bakugo, that’s not—”

“Shut the hell up!” Katsuki barked, cutting him off. He took a step closer, his chest heaving as he stared Kirishima down. “You don’t know shit about me, or him. You think you’re helping, but you’re not. You’re just sticking your nose in crap that has nothing to do with you. HE has nothing to do with you.”

Kirishima’s expression hardened, his easygoing demeanour slipping.

“That’s not fair, man,” he said, his voice low but steady. “I’m not ‘sticking my nose in.’ I’m trying to be there for him because he needs someone, and if you’re too busy being pissed at your past to see that, that’s on you.”

“Don’t you dare,” Katsuki snarled, his hands balling into fists. “You don’t know what the hell I’ve done for him. What I’ve — what I’ve tried to —” He broke off, his words catching in his throat as anger twisted into something more raw, something he couldn’t quite name. He didn't even know where he was going with the sentence, because all he could think about was the freckles on Izuku's fucking nose bridge.

“You’re jealous.” Kirishima’s voice cut through the air like a blade. It wasn’t an accusation, but a simple, undeniable fact. His sharp eyes met Katsuki’s, unwavering. “You’re jealous because you think I’ve taken your place in his life. But that’s not what this is about.”

“Shut up,” Katsuki warned, his voice weaker this time, almost pleading. He hated how Kirishima could see right through him, how he could put words to the ugly mess Katsuki didn’t want to admit to himself.

“I’m not trying to replace you, Bakugo.” Kirishima spoke firmly, his tone softening but still strong. “No one could. You’re important to him — more than you probably even realise. But you’re so damn caught up in your own head, you’re not even giving him a chance to let you in.

Katsuki’s jaw tightened, his teeth grinding together as Kirishima’s words hit him like a sledgehammer. He wanted to yell, to punch something, to tell Kirishima he didn’t know what the hell he was talking about. But deep down, he knew he couldn’t, he knew that level of anger had no worth in this situation.

Because Kirishima was right.

“Damn it,” Katsuki muttered under his breath, turning away sharply. He couldn’t stand the look on Kirishima’s face — that mix of pity and understanding. It made him feel exposed, like every wall he’d built to protect himself had been torn down in an instant.

"Bakugo,” Kirishima said gently, stepping closer. “I’m not your enemy, man. I’m not trying to compete with you or take anything away from you. I’m just trying to help. Both of you.”

Katsuki didn’t respond, his back still turned. His fists trembled at his sides, his nails digging into his palms. He didn’t trust himself to speak, not when his throat felt tight and his chest ached with something he didn’t know how to name.

“Just think about it,” Kirishima added, his voice soft but steady. “You don’t have to do this alone. And you don’t have to push people away just because you’re scared of losing them.”

That struck a nerve. Katsuki’s shoulders stiffened, but he didn’t move. He stood there, rooted to the spot, as Kirishima let out a quiet sigh and started to walk away, his skateboard tucked under his arm.

“Take care of him,” Kirishima said over his shoulder, his tone gentle but firm. “Because if you don’t, someone else will.”

What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

Those words hung in the air long after Kirishima disappeared from view, leaving Katsuki alone with his thoughts and the suffocating weight of everything he didn’t want to admit to himself.

And for the first time in a long while, Katsuki felt truly lost.

Katsuki watched him go, the sound of his footsteps fading into the distance. The skatepark felt eerily quiet now, the empty ramps and rails stretching out like a ghost town. Katsuki sat down heavily on the ledge Kirishima had vacated, running a hand through his hair.

The truth was, he didn’t know how to treat Izuku anymore. Every time he saw that look on his face — the one that made his chest ache and his stomach pit — he felt like he was fifteen again, standing in the rubble of their childhood, wondering when things had gone so wrong.

Sat in that therapist's office ruminating on every single bad thing he'd ever done towards him. Begging for the answers of why he couldn't just be normal.

But maybe Kirishima was right. Maybe all he could do was wait.

Katsuki sighed, leaning back and staring up at the sky. He hated waiting. Hated feeling powerless. But for Izuku? For the first time in his life, he thought maybe, just maybe, it’d be worth it.

If Izuku would just let him in — if he’d just say the word — Katsuki would be there in a heartbeat.

In a fucking heartbeat.

. . .

Before Katsuki knew it, the sun had set. And he was sitting with his head in his hands — cursing under his breath with words rooted in a violent self-deprecation. His breathing shallow as his mind spun out of control. Every emotion he tried to bury, every ounce of guilt he shoved deep down into the corners of himself, seemed to rise all at once like a tsunami.

It started with a flash of green.

Bright, blinding green eyes filled with tears. A face contorted in pain and confusion. The sound of his own cruel voice echoed in his ears, louder than it ever had before.

"Go take a swan dive off the roof, maybe you'll be born less pathetic and useless in your next life."

His hands dug into his hair, his nails scratching his scalp as the words rang over and over in his skull. He could still see Izuku’s face that day, the way his lips trembled, how his eyes swam with disbelief — and something worse. Something broken. Izuku had looked at him like Katsuki had reached inside his chest and crushed his ribs.

And maybe he had.

“Fuck,” Katsuki hissed under his breath, his voice shaking as images flooded his mind like a cursed slideshow he couldn’t stop. He saw Izuku again, smaller than he was now, scrawny and frail, tears streaking down his face as he begged him — begged him to just leave him alone.

"Why can't you just let me be Kacchan? Why do you hate me so much?"

That voice was so loud, so agonising, Katsuki felt like he might shatter into pieces right there on the concrete. His hands clenched tighter in his hair, as though he could tear the memories out of his skull if he just pulled hard enough. But they didn’t stop.

The flashbacks didn’t stop.

The way Izuku had shrunk back from him every time Katsuki’s shadow loomed. The way he’d trembled like a cornered animal, too afraid to fight back. The way he’d stared at Katsuki with so much admiration behind his eyes even when his face was all red and snot-covered — like he still in some fucked up way looked up to him.

That was the part that killed him the most.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Katsuki muttered, his voice cracking as his breath came faster, shallower. His chest was tight, like a vice was squeezing the air out of his lungs.

But the images didn’t stop.

Because then he saw Izuku as he was now, older, stronger — but still that same damn boy, still too fucking soft for his own good. He remembered the way Izuku had tended to his wound after what'd happened in the alley. He’d been lucky — if he’d been half an inch closer, the bullet would’ve taken him out. He kind of wished it had, so Spiderman would be at fault. But that was ridiculous.

But instead, it had scraped past his cheek, leaving a jagged line of raw, bleeding skin. He hadn’t even realized how badly it'd bled until Izuku was sat next to him, his hands shaking lightly as he pressed the alcohol wipe against his face. His hands may have been trembling, but his touch had been impossibly gentle. Careful. Almost reverent. Katsuki could still feel the sting of the alcohol against his skin, but it was nothing compared to the way Izuku’s fingers hovered over his cheek.

All he could do was stare at Izuku, at the way his lips pressed into a thin line, his brows furrowed with worry. He remembered thinking how stupid it was that Izuku could look at him like that — like he cared, like he didn’t hate him for every shitty thing Katsuki had ever done.

The memory hit him like a freight train, and Katsuki’s breath hitched as something inside him snapped.

His chest heaved as a sob tore its way out of his throat, violent and raw. His hands dropped from his hair, trembling as they gripped his knees, his body folding in on itself as the weight of everything came crashing down.

“FUCK!” he screamed, the sound ripping through the empty skatepark. It wasn’t enough to release the pressure building in his chest, the boiling mixture of guilt, anger, and self-loathing threatening to consume him whole.

Tears streamed down his face, hot and relentless, blurring his vision as he sobbed. His shoulders shook with the force of it, and he buried his face in his hands, his voice muffled but still broken as he cursed himself over and over.

“Stupid. I’m so fucking stupid,” he choked out, his words barely audible through the sobs that wracked his body. “Why— why did I—” He couldn’t finish the sentence. Couldn’t even form the words.

Because how do you apologise for years of cruelty? How do you fix something so broken you’re not even sure it’s possible?

All Katsuki could see was Izuku’s face. Crying, smiling, patching him up. Over and over, the images cycled through his mind until he thought he might lose his grip on reality. He ripped his hands out of his hair and slammed a fist against the concrete beneath him, the sharp pain grounding him for a moment, but it wasn’t enough to stop the tears.

Nothing was.

Katsuki Bakugo didn’t feel like the explosive, indomitable force he'd prided himself on being for his entire life anymore

He just felt small.

Weak.

And so, so sorry.

. . .

Izuku had gotten home a while ago, and decided it was time for him to set out for his long overdue patrol. He fumbled with his green latex suit, the material moving to be snug against his frame as he adjusted the sleeves and pulled his mask down to rest on his forehead. His bedroom was dimly lit, the soft glow of his desk lamp casting faint shadows on the walls. A slight chill drifted through the open window, carrying the distant hum of the city and the faint rustle of tree branches swaying in the wind.

The moon was rising, its light spilling over the campus in silvery streams. Stars dotted the dark canvas of the sky, their gentle shimmers like pinpricks of hope in an otherwise vast and endless abyss. Izuku exhaled slowly as he grabbed his web-shooters and secured them around his wrists.

With a quiet determination, he pulled his mask over his face, the familiar material snapping into place and obscuring his features. He took a step back, testing the tightness of his suit before leaning against the window frame. The world outside seemed calm, almost deceptively so, and for a moment, he let himself feel the peaceful quiet.

Then, with a practiced motion, Izuku launched himself out the window, his wrist firing a webline that latched onto a nearby lamppost. The night air rushed past him as he swung upward, his momentum carrying him high above the campus buildings. His body moved instinctively, muscles from what was now years of practice propelling him forward with graceful ease.

The campus quickly faded behind him as he swung just past its edge, entering the quieter outskirts where the shadows of trees loomed larger, their branches clawing at the sky. The skatepark was nearby — a place Izuku often passed by on his patrols but rarely stopped to linger. Tonight, though, something caught his eye.

A flash of blonde in the moonlight.

Izuku’s webline snapped taut as he swung lower, his eyes narrowing beneath his mask. The skatepark came into view, its graffiti-streaked walls standing out against the muted tones of the night. The vibrant splashes of colour seemed almost alive in the moonlight, a chaotic beauty that mirrored the turmoil within his chest as he caught sight of the figure sitting hunched on the cold concrete.

Katsuki.

Even from this distance, Izuku could make him out — the sharp edges of his silhouette, the telltale spikes of his blonde hair, illuminated faintly by the moonlight. The slight silver glint of his eyebrow piercing caught on the street lamp near him. His form seemed heavy, as though weighed down by something invisible.

Something Izuku couldn't help but want to lift.

Izuku paused mid-swing, releasing his webline to perch silently on a nearby lampost. He crouched low, watching as Katsuki moved. His broad shoulders were shaking, his head buried in his hands. The sight was jarring, like seeing something out of place in a familiar picture.

Then Izuku heard it.

The cries.

They were faint at first, carried by the wind, but as Izuku strained his ears, the sound became clearer. It was raw, guttural, like something torn from the depths of someone’s soul. Katsuki’s voice — trembling, broken — echoed softly through the empty skatepark, bouncing off the graffiti-splattered walls.

Izuku’s chest tightened as he watched, his instincts warring against each other. Part of him wanted to leave, to respect whatever it was Katsuki was going through. But another part — the louder part — couldn’t ignore it.

He’d never been able to ignore Katsuki, not really. He always loomed his way back into Izuku's thoughts. And now, he couldn't ignore him.

Especially not like this.

After taking a few sharp breaths, he suddenly moved to lower himself down off of the lampost he was sitting atop. His feet making a slight thump on the pavement as he dropped down. Katsuki didn't look up, likely too lost in whatever atrocities were plaguing him. It was unbearable to witness, and he wished he could just rip his mask off and run over — enveloping him in a grip so tight that it would stop the way he shook.

His mind told him to swing away, to not get himself involved. He's well aware of the way Katsuki isn't fond of Spiderman, but his heart told him that this was his chance to change his mind. Selfishly.

He took a few hesitant steps down the path towards the skatepark. Moving quietly, as to not alert the blonde of his presence just yet. Katsuki's sobs were growing weaker — and Izuku couldn't help but notice the word he seemed to keep repeating.

"I'm sorry," His breath hitched, huddling his knees to tuck his face into. "I'm so fucking sorry — Izuku..."

Izuku stood still.

In fact, the entire world stood still.

Why on earth was Katsuki huddling himself in the middle of the night at the skatepark, crying about what seemed to be the reason of himself? And it didn't seem like he'd done anything wrong. The opposite. But the way he'd said his name with such anguish, made his entire body feel heavy, and his heart weak. And in that moment, he knew he'd been wrong to ignore the conversation he'd had with his mother. He should've had the conversation long ago.

"Blondie."

Katsuki's eyes shot up, still hiding his face in his arms which were leaned above his knees — and he seemed to run still. Spiderman was stood above him, looming barely half a meter away, staring down at his pathetic state with an unfamiliar tone in his voice.

"What's got you all miserable, hm?"

Katsuki’s red, puffy eyes narrowed, his face still half-hidden in his arms as he glared up at Spiderman. The blonde bristled, a defence mechanism kicking in despite the cracks in his voice. “What the hell do you care?” he spat, though the venom in his words was weaker than usual, diluted by the weight of his despair.

Izuku tilted his head slightly, his mask obscuring the way his lips pressed into a thin line. He crouched down just enough to bring himself closer to Katsuki’s level, his voice gentle but laced with a playful edge — a deflection, one that masked the swirl of emotions in his chest.

“What do I care? Well, blondie, I don’t exactly make it my life’s mission to watch people cry their eyes out in the middle of a skatepark.”

Katsuki scowled, trying to muster his usual bravado, but it faltered, his lip trembling as he clenched his fists. He looked away, muttering bitterly, “You’re not exactly a shrink, so piss off bug boy.”

Izuku crossed his arms, shifting his weight slightly as he leaned against the edge of the graffiti-covered concrete. “Actually,” he said, his voice lighter now, almost teasing, “I’m not just your friendly neighbourhood Spiderman. I’m also your friendly neighbourhood therapist. Comes with the package, y’know?”

Katsuki snorted despite himself, though the sound was rough and choked like it got caught in his throat. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” he muttered, but he didn’t move, didn’t tell him to leave again.

“Maybe,” Izuku replied, his tone softening as he studied Katsuki’s hunched form. “But I mean it. Look, I might be a hero, but I’m not blind. I see things. I see people in pain, and, well... I can’t just ignore it.” He took a cautious step closer, lowering his voice as though sharing a secret. “You’d be surprised how much people spill their guts to a guy in a mask. Kinda makes it easier, I guess. No judgement. No strings attached.”

Katsuki’s jaw tightened, his nails digging into the fabric of his pants as he tried to keep his emotions in check.

“Tch. Don’t need some wannabe hero to hold my hand,” he grumbled, though it lacked his usual bite.

Izuku crouched down fully now, sitting on his heels as he rested his forearms on his knees. He stayed quiet for a moment, letting the silence stretch, letting Katsuki breathe. Then he said softly, “I didn’t say you needed it. But... it doesn’t mean you don’t deserve it.”

Katsuki froze, his breath hitching as those words sank in. Deserve it? That wasn’t something he’d ever let himself believe. Not after everything he’d done.

Spiderman continued, his tone careful but firm. “Whatever it is you’re carrying, it’s heavy. I can see it. And yeah, maybe you think you’re the only one who can deal with it, that it’s yours to bear alone. But you don’t have to.” He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping just above a whisper. “Sometimes, it’s okay to let someone else hold it for a while. Even if it’s just for a few minutes.”

Katsuki stared at him, his chest tightening as the words hit him in a way he didn’t expect. His throat felt raw, his mind racing as he tried to come up with something — anything — to push Spiderman away. But nothing came. Though he'd been studying the masked criminal for weeks, he had no room in his consciousness to focus on his distaste in that moment.

He was breaking.

Izuku tilted his head, his voice lighter again. “So... wanna tell me what’s got you so miserable? Or do I have to guess? I’m pretty good at guessing, by the way. Part of the whole ‘friendly neighbourhood therapist’ gig.”

Katsuki’s lips twitched, almost like he wanted to smirk, but it came out as more of a grimace.

“You’re really not gonna shut up, are you?”

“Nope,” Izuku said cheerfully, popping the ‘p’ as he sat back on the ground, making himself comfortable. “I’m annoying like that. Comes with the territory.” He paused, his tone softening again. “But seriously, blondie... what’s eating you? You don’t have to spill it all, but at least let me help. I hate seeing people like this.”

He truly wanted to say, 'I hate seeing you like this', but that felt way too personal.

Katsuki’s fists clenched tighter, his knuckles turning white as he stared at the ground. The tears he thought he’d buried started welling up again, and his voice cracked as he muttered, barely audible, “I don’t... I don’t even know where to start.”

Izuku’s chest ached at the vulnerability in Katsuki’s voice, and he smiled gently beneath his mask, even though Katsuki couldn’t see it. “That’s okay,” he said softly. “We can start anywhere. Or nowhere. Sometimes, just sitting with someone... makes it hurt a little less.”

Katsuki’s throat worked as he swallowed hard, his body trembling slightly as he finally let his walls crack, just a little. And for the first time in what felt like forever, he didn’t feel so alone.

Izuku’s chest tightened at the rawness of Katsuki’s words, and he fought the urge to reach out, even as the blonde’s trembling form seemed to draw him closer. “I’m an awful person,” Katsuki muttered, the confession leaving his lips like shattered glass, sharp and broken.

What an admission, Izuku thought, his heart twisting painfully. He watched Katsuki’s hunched shoulders, the way his fists clenched against his knees, and he felt the weight of those words more than Katsuki probably intended him to.

Clicking his tongue, Izuku leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees as he studied Katsuki’s crumpled form. “You know,” he said, voice light and deliberate, “I don’t think that’s a good look for you. Doesn’t suit you at all.”

Katsuki’s head snapped up, his bloodshot eyes narrowing at the casual way Spiderman dismissed his self-loathing. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he growled, though the usual fire behind his words was noticeably dim.

Izuku tilted his head, his masked face giving nothing away, but Katsuki could feel the air of playfulness radiating off him. “I think you know what I mean.”

"Enlighten me."

Izuku let out an exaggerated groan, clicking his hands together like he was preparing for some monumental task. The sound was followed by a small, amused huff, as though he were relishing the challenge. “Alright, blondie,” he started, leaning forward a bit more, “you’re too headstrong for your own good. Even I figured that out the last— er, first time I met you."

Katsuki bristled at the nickname but didn’t interrupt. Something about the way Spiderman was talking — casual but pointed — kept him rooted in place.

“You think you can carry the world on your shoulders,” Spiderman continued, his voice dipping into something softer, more serious, “but you’ve been carrying it so long that it’s crushing you. You’re falling apart at the seams, and instead of doing anything about it, you’re just letting it happen.” He paused, his head tilting as if studying Katsuki, trying to see the pieces of him hidden behind his walls. “The scariest thing for you, I’m guessing, is facing what’s inside your own head. Talking about it. Admitting how you actually feel.”

He took a deep breath before continuing, amused to see that Katsuki's red-rimmed gaze was glued to him. Katsuki’s jaw tightened, and Izuku could see the flicker of resistance in his bloodshot gaze, the same stubbornness he’d come to know so well. But Katsuki didn’t cut him off, didn’t hurl some scathing insult to drive him away. Instead, he stayed silent. He was genuinely listening, taking in every one of Spiderman's words.

Izuku exhaled slowly, his voice softening even further. “And you know what? If you were really awful, if you were the kind of person you think you are... you wouldn’t be crying like this.” He gestured vaguely toward Katsuki, his gloved hand sweeping over the tear streaks still glistening faintly under the moonlight, hand mere inches away from his face.

“Trust me, I’ve seen a lot of bad people. None of them cry like you do, blondie.”

Katsuki scoffed, but the sound came out weak, his voice shaking slightly as he muttered, “Stop calling me that.”

“Calling you what?” Spiderman asked, tilting his head again, his tone almost infuriatingly innocent as he pulled his hand back.

“You know what,” Katsuki grumbled, his voice holding no real heat. He leaned back slightly, pulling his arms away from his knees. His face was still red, his eyes swollen and rimmed with exhaustion, but the tears had stopped. He could feel the dried streaks on his skin, the faint sting of salt against rawness.

Katsuki had noticed how playful Spiderman had been acting, and as much as in the beginning, he wanted to perceive it as being some kind of smug way of getting under his skin, he came to recognise that it was likely just because he was trying to lighten his mood. Trying to make him feel better. Which for some anomalous reason made him feel a familiar knot in his stomach.

"Blondie?" Izuku teased, leaning his masked cheek against his palm, his elbow propped up on his knee like he was completely at ease.

"Yeah." Katsuki leaned back from the cover of his arm against his knees. His eyes were still somewhat red, but the tears had all dried up now. Leaving light streaks on his face — his fluttering eyelashes still blinking with the tiny droplets that Izuku could focus on given his heightened abilities.

Izuku’s head tilted, and for a moment, Katsuki swore he could see the faintest glimmer of a smile beneath the mask. The way Spiderman looked at him was almost unnerving — like he could see through him, past every layer of defence Katsuki had built over the years. It made him feel exposed in a way he wasn’t used to, but for some reason, it didn’t feel unbearable.

Izuku ached to flat-out ask why Katsuki had said 'Izuku', but he knew that would be a stupid and identity-risking decision. After his conversation with his mother — where he'd pressed about the issue of Katsuki, he was left feeling completely and utterly lost. Battling with the reality that Katsuki had perhaps struggled more with what he'd done to Izuku than he'd let on.

And regretfully, he didn't initiate conversation in the first place.

So really, he knew why. He just didn't think it'd actually be affecting Katsuki so much.

He was so caught up with his own shifting personal life that he hadn't stopped for a minute to consider him.

But at least, now he knew it was necessary.

Not for him, but for Katsuki.

And a little bit for himself.

A lot for himself.

It's complicated...

“What’s your name, then?” Spiderman asked, the question coming out casual but deliberate, like he already knew the answer and was waiting for Katsuki to say it. But he hoped Katsuki wouldn't catch onto that.

"Katsuki Bakugo."

"Katsuki, hm?" Spiderman repeated, the name rolling off his tongue like it was something familiar, something he’d held onto for years. But his tone remained light, teasing as he leaned back slightly. “Nah, I think I prefer blondie.” Izuku noticed the way the light caught on the drying streaks on his face — his fluttering eyelashes still blinking with the tiny droplets that Izuku could focus in on so carefully given his heightened abilities.

So pretty when he cries.

Katsuki groaned, running a hand through his hair as he muttered under his breath, “You’re useless."

Izuku laughed softly, the sound warm and genuine. “Not so useless with you, though.”

Katsuki's eyes widened, and he found himself unconsciously leaning closer towards the masked hero as if he were a moth to a flame. It was infuriating how he genuinely didn't feel so hung up in his own emotions anymore. No longer feeling the weight of his own mistakes so heavily. So, Spiderman was right.

He wasn't all useless.

"Fuck you." He couldn't admit it, though.

"You wound me, Katsuki." Spiderman leaned closer, looking fixedly at the other male's contorted features. He couldn't tell if it was just the mask — or if he was strangely feeling different towards the blonde who was now sitting so close to him. He could almost feel his warmth, catching the faint hint of his musk in the breeze, that infuriating scent of caramel and firewood.

Spiderman’s presence felt different even to Katsuki — so infuriatingly familiar yet comforting in a way he couldn't understand. But still, the gnawing questions he had about who Spiderman was, and what his real intentions were loomed. Katsuki’s feelings toward Spiderman were a storm of irritation, distrust, and reluctant intrigue.

The masked vigilante represented everything Katsuki hated —recklessness disguised as heroics, defiance of authority, and a frustrating tendency to win people over with his charm and quips. To Katsuki, Spiderman’s flashy, improvisational style mocks the meticulous discipline and structure Katsuki values. Yet, beneath the frustration, there was something else — a gnawing sense of familiarity that Katsuki couldn’t place, and worse... a begrudging respect for the way Spiderman always seemed to show up when it mattered most.

Always.

Even now...

It was infuriating, really, how much the web-slinger had gotten under his skin. And the sheer lengths he'd gone to, just to try and understand him. Only to be met with dead ends. Every damn time.

"I don't like you." Katsuki suddenly chimed in after a moments silence. He could almost swear he saw eyes widen and twitch beneath the mask. But of course, there was no way of knowing that.

"I figured as much," Spiderman hummed, acting awfully casual about somebody admitting their distaste towards him. It was nothing he hadn't heard before from the endless debates about him online or in pretentious newspaper articles — and from Katsuki too.

Albeit... the blonde wasn't aware of that.

Izuku weighed the pros and cons of asking the simple question of 'why', and found himself between two tipping scales that shifted with each plaguing thought. And even Katsuki noticed how he seemed to be fidgeting like a kid who'd discovered what an energy drink was for the first time in his life. And chugged four.

Much like someone else he knew.

Which was strangely amusing.

Then, it slipped out.

"Why?"

Izuku's real voice almost cracked through in the simple word, but he hummed it down with his feigned lower register. Katsuki seemed to pause for a moment, gazing to the concrete beneath him, and back up at the green-suited pain in his ass.

Katsuki’s lips parted slightly as if he were about to spit out something sharp and cutting, but the words caught in his throat. He didn’t know why he was hesitating — he never hesitated. Yet, the question lingered, pressing against him like a weight he didn’t want to carry but couldn’t shrug off.

Why didn’t he like Spiderman?

Was it because of his reckless disregard for rules? His smug, infuriatingly carefree attitude? Or was it because, despite all of that, Spiderman made him feel… seen?

And that scared the hell out of him.

“You’re reckless,” Katsuki finally muttered, his voice low but brimming with restrained frustration. “You don’t follow the rules, you don’t listen to anyone, and somehow… somehow, you make it look easy.” His hands clenched into fists at his sides, nails digging into his palms. “I’ve worked my ass off for everything — every scrap of respect, every bit of control over my life. And then you swoop in, like it’s nothing, and people love you for it.” He scoffed, shaking his head.

“It’s infuriating.”

Spiderman tilted his head slightly, his mask concealing the flicker of surprise — and guilt — that crossed Izuku’s face. He hadn’t expected that. This was deeper than he'd anticipated. And it cut into Izuku in a way he didn’t know how to respond to.

Sure, he'd been told those same things before by Katsuki. But now when faced head-on with them, and seeing the lack of bite to his bark — and acknowledging the real criticism he had to offer, it was hard to argue with it as he had then.

“I…” Izuku started, then paused, the words faltering on his tongue. He took a breath and steadied himself, lowering his tone. “I didn’t know you felt that way.”

He did.

Katsuki’s sharp glare snapped up to meet Spiderman’s masked gaze, and for a moment, he almost regretted being so vulnerable. Almost. “Well, now you do,” he bit out, his voice wavering only slightly. “Happy?”

“No,” Izuku said softly, the warmth in his voice cutting through Katsuki’s defences like a knife. “I’m not happy about that.” He leaned forward, his hands resting lightly on his knees as he tilted his head just enough to seem earnest, even through the mask. “I’m not here to make things harder for you, Katsuki. I’m just trying to help people. Same as you.”

“Same as me?” Katsuki barked a humourless laugh, his eyes narrowing. “You don’t even know what that means. Do you think swinging around and throwing yourself into danger without a plan is the same as helping? You’re just a walking disaster waiting to happen.”

Izuku winced at the jab but didn’t back down. “You’re right. Sometimes I don’t have a plan. Sometimes I make mistakes. But I’m trying. Every day, I’m trying. And maybe I don’t do it the way you would, but that doesn’t mean it’s wrong.” He hesitated, his voice softening as he added, “And it certainly doesn’t mean I don’t care.”

Katsuki stared at him, his expression unreadable as he processed the words. There was a part of him — a small, buried part — that wanted to believe Spiderman, to accept that maybe, just maybe, the idiot in the mask wasn’t as reckless and thoughtless as he seemed. But trust wasn’t something Katsuki gave freely, especially not to someone who hid behind a mask.

But right now, what else was there to do?

Still, gnawing feelings remained.

"Why is it fair that you get to parade around with fucking superpowers and play hero when normal people like me have to sit back and watch pretending it's fucking normal?" Katsuki suddenly let out, his voice louder now. Empathy and understanding that passed over Izuku’s face. Katsuki’s words weren’t just laced with frustration — they were heavy with insecurity, with the weight of a burden he’d carried for too long.

Izuku stayed quiet for a moment, letting Katsuki’s confession settle in the space between them. The night seemed to grow quieter, the distant hum of the city fading into the background as they sat there, two figures caught in a fragile moment of understanding.

"Do you not think I'm a normal person behind the mask, too? Y’know,” Spiderman paused, his voice softer now, almost contemplative, “it’s not as easy as it looks. Swinging around, cracking jokes, saving the day... it’s just a mask.” He tapped his own face lightly for emphasis, the sound of his gloved finger against the fabric barely audible. “Behind it... I’m just a guy trying to figure things out, same as everyone else. Same as you.”

Katsuki glanced at him, his red-rimmed eyes narrowing slightly. “Don’t give me that ‘woe is me’ crap,” he muttered, though his voice lacked its usual venom. “You’ve got powers, you can do whatever the hell you want, and you don’t have to answer to anyone."

Izuku chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’ve got powers. But they don’t make life any easier, trust me. If anything, they make it harder. Every decision, every mistake... it’s bigger. It affects more people.” He paused, his voice dipping lower, tinged with something Katsuki couldn’t quite place. “And the truth is, I mess up. A lot. More than you probably think.”

Katsuki frowned, his hands relaxing slightly as he absorbed Spiderman’s words. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but honesty wasn’t it. It caught him off guard, chipped away at the walls he’d built to keep everyone — especially Spiderman — at arm’s length.

“You’re still annoying as hell,” Katsuki muttered, though the edge in his voice had softened. “But... maybe you’re not as useless as I thought.”

Izuku couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up, warm and genuine.

"I’ll take it,” he said, leaning back on his hands as he gazed up at the night sky. The stars were faint against the city lights, but they were there, tiny points of light piercing through the darkness.

Katsuki’s eyes followed the path of Izuku’s gaze, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little. The silence between them stretched on, but it wasn’t awkward. It felt... easy. He wasn’t used to this feeling. Usually, he couldn’t stand silence, couldn’t stand letting down his guard even a fraction. But for some reason, with Spiderman, he didn’t feel the immediate need to fight. He didn’t feel the weight of his own walls pressing down on him.

After a moment, Izuku’s voice broke the silence, softer now, more curious than before. "Why do you always assume the worst in people?" He asked it like he was trying to figure out the puzzle that was Katsuki, something that went beyond surface-level frustration. It wasn’t an accusation — it was a genuine question. Izuku asked it like it was something he'd been trying to solve for so long. Which confused Katsuki at first.

Katsuki’s chest tightened at the question. The warmth of the moment quickly slipped away, replaced by the familiar prickling irritation. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Spiderman had seen right through him in a way that made him uncomfortable. He shot a glare down at the vigilante, his mouth twisting into a sneer. “Why don’t you get off my ass?” he snapped, the words sharp and defensive.

He pushed himself off the ledge, the sharp scrape of his boots against the concrete echoing in the quiet. Crossing his arms tightly, he leaned against the edge, standing tall and trying to look as unbothered as possible, though the flush still lingered on his cheeks. “And what the fuck do you mean by ‘always’? You don’t know me.”

There was a moment of stillness, the kind that felt loaded with something Katsuki couldn’t quite place. And then Spiderman spoke again, his voice uncharacteristically quiet, a note of sincerity threading through it. “I want to.”

That slipped out.

Izuku panicked beneath the mask, feeling his face warming with the heat of the words. He didn't know why he'd even said such a thing, but strangely — it felt like the only thing he could say.

The words hit Katsuki like a slap to the face. His eyes widened, and his breath hitched for a split second. He wasn’t sure what to say to that — why did Spiderman even want to know? What made him think Katsuki was worth figuring out? But it was the way he'd said it, so open and honest, that caught him off guard. Katsuki’s mind scrambled to make sense of it, but he found no answer that made sense. Instead, all he could manage was a harsh grunt as he turned away.

"There's seriously something wrong with you," Katsuki muttered, though the words felt hollow in the moment. His irritation only deepened as Spiderman seemed to take it all in.

"Clearly," Izuku responded with a slight chuckle, but it wasn’t mocking. It was almost affectionate, if that was even possible from someone like him. "Just…"

Katsuki huffed, unwilling to meet his gaze, his mind racing with conflicting thoughts. “I don’t like to see you unhappy. You can be angry at the world for giving someone else superpowers and not you, but… I always consider how you’d feel about anything I do,” Izuku continued, his voice genuine, and even more soft than before. It was strange. It was the last thing Katsuki expected to hear from him.

Katsuki’s heart skipped a beat.

“I mean, I consider everyone! Not, not you in particular, I um... That's not what I meant,” Izuku stammered, almost tripping over his words. But the damage was done, and the weight of his confession was clear.

"You're so fucking weird," Katsuki muttered, trying to deflect, trying to brush it off with anger. It was easier that way. His face flushed again, his thoughts running wild, unable to latch onto anything solid.

"And the wound only seems to get deeper," Izuku teased, the hint of a grin audible even through the mask.

“Fuck you,” Katsuki shot back, his voice biting.

“As I’ve said before,” Izuku quipped, his tone light as always, “I don’t usually go for hotheads. But now that I’ve seen you crack and show me something other than your piss poor attitude... I guess I can consider it further.”

Katsuki’s face turned redder at the comment, a mix of embarrassment and frustration flaring up inside him. “Go fuck yourself!”

Izuku laughed again, and the sound was like a punch to the gut. “Giving instructions now, are we? I mean, if you watch, I suppose I’m fine with that,” he teased, clearly enjoying Katsuki’s discomfort.

“Seriously, you're fucking sick and twisted. Do you get off on flirting with all the innocent civilians you therapise, huh, bugboy?” Katsuki shot back, words sharper than he intended as he glared down at the hero.

“Nah,” Spiderman clicked his tongue against his teeth, the sound loud in the night air.

“Just you.”

. . .

Chapter notes:

[ WHAT A PLACE TO FINISH.

I know I've been coming out with these chapters pretty fast, and it's because I've been writing it for a few weeks now, but I had to wait for my ao3 invitation because I've never had an account before! Despite years of usage...

I had chapter 1 and 2 finished before I made my account, bar some tweaks, and this is the first chapter that I only had less than half done. I think I only had about 5k words, so I've definitely uh...speed-wrote! It's the longest chapter so far, but honestly, I really love this one. I wanted to do some worldbuilding and further expand on Izuku as a character and his shifting relationships, like I hinted at in the last chapter. I hope you all enjoyed it hehe.

Thank you for your support, I know this fic isn't big or anything but since it's my first proper fic it means so much even to have even a few comments of support and people following along. I've had this idea in my mind for a long while, and I am so grateful that other people enjoy it as much as me! I appreciate all of you. For now I think I'm gonna take a bit of a break since I have college work to focus on, but I will be back with a bang, I promise! And again, thank you so much! I hope you're hooked hehe.]

. . .

Ps, yes, Shoto is the parallel to Harry Osborn, if you didn't pick up on that already. Do with that what you will~