Chapter Text
The entire classroom ground to a halt—like every person in the room was holding their breath.
Katsuki wanted to evaporate.
He wanted to run.
He could feel their eyes on him, pinning him in place as his breath caught in his throat. He could hear his heartbeat in his fucking ears as Shoto stood before him—hands outstretched with the folded blanket in his grasp. He felt sick.
There was no other way to interpret the gesture. Shoto was an unattached alpha and Katsuki was an unattached omega—no matter how much that knowledge stabbed at him or how it crushed his heart so hard that he wanted to rip the stupid thing out of his chest.
The blanket in his hands looked soft and well-made, and it smelled like him. He wanted to recoil from it—the stupid omega rattling around in his skull still not understanding that they didn't fucking belong to anybody. Not anymore.
The scent wasn't overly possessive or heavy, and definitely not anything as strong as a claiming or interest scent. If Katsuki took it, it would be the equivalent of sitting in the same room as him, just existing. Shoto wanted to just...exist in Katsuk's space. Either that, or it was his claiming scent, and it just wasn't as strong as Deku's.
He couldn't help but compare Shoto's scent to his alphas—no, Deku's—the way it surrounded him and made him feel so wanted. So safe and desired, like it was designed to cling to Katsuki's skin and never let him go. Anything less felt cheap in comparison, even Shoto's perfectly mellow scent that was wafting toward him.
His heart lodged in his throat, threatening to choke him. He wanted that scent back in his nest—he wanted it worked into his clothes so that it surrounded him—and he hated himself for it. It was probably all over Uraraka's nest, clinging to a better omega than him.
Misery was so fucking horrible. If he didn't have his patches on, he'd smell rotten. He resisted the urge to look at Deku—entire body rigid as he stared through Shoto. He didn't give a shit about what Deku was doing. He didn't. He wouldn't let himself, no matter how much his omega wanted to retreat and hide behind him and assure him that Katsuki was still his.
He wasn't. He wasn't Deku's. And Shoto was in front of him, waiting.
"Katsuki?" he asked when the omega stayed silent. Katsuki nearly flinched, eyes refocusing on the alpha.
"What the fuck is that?" Katsuki rasped. If there had been any other noise in the classroom, it would have gone unheard.
Uncharacteristically, Shoto's face pinched—lips pursing and nose scrunching just slightly. He was fucking nervous. The idiot had decided to do this in front of fucking everyone and had the audacity to look nervous? "It's...a blanket?"
Katsuki bared his teeth, skin prickling. He wanted this to be over now. He'd never felt more examined in his goddamn life—not even when he was chained up at their first year sports festival. He was already off his game and he fucking knew it, barely able to think straight with how loud his omega had been over the past two weeks. If he'd wanted to hide in his room all day before, he wanted to move to fucking Antarctica now.
"I can fucking see that, stupid," he snapped. "I meant what the fuck do you think you're doing?"
Comprehension seemed to dawn on his stupid-ass face and he straightened—setting his shoulders like he was about to go to war instead of making an ass of himself in a high school classroom. "You're one of my best friends and I've admired you for a long time," he said, voice clear and even. "You're special to me, and I'd like to show you how I feel about you."
He could feel his vision narrowing and wondered if he was actually going to throw up from anxiety, right here in the classroom. The buzzing across his skin had seeped into his bloodstream and he could feel his fingers and toes going numb from panic. He wanted to slap the gift out of his hand and run as far and as fast as he could, hands curling into fists to stop himself from doing just that.
Shoto was a damn good friend and if Deku hadn't fucked with him, he knew he would have been open to this shit. Maybe not here in fucking public, but he and Shoto were...compatible at the very least and Katsuki actually liked spending time with him. He would have been willing to at least give it a chance and see where it went. He should be open to this. He could do far worse than Shoto Todoroki.
But his omega was not fucking having it. He'd never been overtaken like this—so filled with a sense of wrong that he was tempted to attack Shoto for having the audacity to giving him a courting gift.
His classmates' scents had started to bloom in the room—stronger even under their shitty half-strength patches because they were fucking excited. He could smell Mina like candy on a summer day and Denki's weird-ass lemony citrus scent—almost oppressive because they were the closest to him and running around unpatched since their heats weren't any time soon. Eijirou wasn't much better, his usually mellow cinnamon and hot apple cider was sharp now, the gentle fruity base overpowered by warm spices that were making his gut churn.
"Oh my god," Uraraka squealed from the back of the class. It was like her voice had pushed her fucking scent forward. It was syrupy and floral, and even from a distance it clawed at his senses—making his entire body go rigid as the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. They were all watching this shit with eager eyes, even her. Even him. Like his life was not only their business, but their fucking entertainment.
This shit was eating Katsuki alive, torn between instinct and friendship and logic and hurt. It left him feeling the kind of overwhelmed that made him want to curl into a corner, protecting him from the invisible onslaught when he didn't have the strength or clarity to stand tall and defend himself. He could feel Deku's gaze like a physical touch and he could smell Uraraka's scent like her hand was at his throat—squeezing the life out of him as he fought to take a breath.
Amidst all of it, his fucking peers were watching eagerly, waiting for some romantic drama to unfold as though Katsuki didn't feel like he was dying. He wasn't breathing, he was sure of it. He was going to collapse—head buzzing as the room swam.
Deku wasn't his alpha but Katsuki loved him. Katsuki loved him but Deku had tossed him aside and chosen a better omega. Deku had chosen a better omega, so Katsuki didn't belong to anyone. Katsuki didn't belong to anyone because he was a bad omega—too crass and harsh. He was too crass and harsh, but Shoto was standing in front of him. Shoto was standing in front of him, and he was a good alpha. He was a good alpha, but Katsuki didn't fucking want him. Katsuki didn't want him, but he couldn't have what he wanted because Deku wasn't his alpha. It ran through his head on a loop and he was pretty sure he was shaking. He stayed silent and still, half hoping that if he didn't move or make a sound, he'd simply disappear.
Shoto took it differently—deciding that Katsuki's lack of response meant that he needed to be more clear. "Will you let me court you, Katsuki?"
Before he could even think of a response, there was a deafening crack and a threatening growl—ripping through the room and chilling him to the bone. His head snapped toward the noise just to find Deku on his feet, green lightning crackling around him in a threatening tempest—his desk cracked in two and clenched in either fist, teeth bared and eyes wild.
His stomach plummeted to his knees as Shoto growled back, the bicolored alpha bristling at the newfound threat. He heard chairs scraping back and he could feel Eijirou looming, ready to throw himself in the middle of whatever the fuck was going on.
Then, Deku snarled, "Over my dead body!" voiced warped with fury and something animalistic. From his stance and the way he was baring his teeth, Katsuki could tell that he was out of control—more ruled by instinct than by reason. It confused him in a way that hurt. The fact that Deku thought he still had any claim on Katsuki made his head swim with ugly longing and aching betrayal and sickening want, all tied together by the knowledge that he'd spent a week in bed with her.
It made him see red. How little self-respect did Deku think he had? After what he did, how did he even think he had the right to talk to him, let alone dictate what he did? How had he justified this shit to himself? He could hear Shoto growling back, but it didn't fucking matter. All that mattered was showing Deku where they stood.
"Shut the fuck up," Katsuki snapped, turning his back on Shoto to face Izuku fully. His breath was coming out short, and he could still feel too many eyes on them. The room felt disastrously small—like the walls were closing in on him and Deku was too close. He wanted to put a continent between them—to run from whatever was opening the pit in his stomach and making his eyes burn, fighting off the urge to fucking cry about a knothead alpha who'd fucked him over.
"Kacchan—"
"Shut the fuck up," he said again, snarl twisting his lips as he bared his teeth. "I don't give a shit what you think, Deku. You're not my fucking alpha. You have no fucking say in who can court me, and you have a lot of fucking nerve, trying to make something that's my decision your business. It will never be your business!" He relished the way Deku flinched back, the deflating as his shoulders hunched in.
He almost felt bad—almost wanted to apologize or reach out or something stupid like that. But it was a fraction of what Deku had done to him. He was defending what little dignity he had left. He was allowed to protect himself. Part of him wished that he hadn't though—he could feel the focus on him narrowing, becoming more critical, trying to put pieces together that were none of their concern.
They were judging him for being harsh, like they always did—wanting him to be nicer with no consideration for the way he felt scraped empty and stripped raw.
He ignored them, turning back to Shoto. He wanted to get this shit over with, and fast. "You take that shit back," he snarled, glaring into Shoto's pretty heterochromatic eyes. "I never want to talk about my courting shit in public ever again. If you want to ask me something, don't be a fucking coward about it—using these fuckers as a buffer. Ask me in private, or don't ask me at all. I'm not discussing shit here."
Shoto snatched the blanket back and hid it behind his back, like it was something shameful. "Sorry, Katsuki."
"Fuck you. Now get the fuck out of my way."
"Kacchan—"
He rounded on Deku, hissing viciously—palms sparking too loud and bright. The alpha shrank back, and Katsuki hated how wounded he looked. He had no fucking right. He had no fucking right.
His vision blurred, his omega clawing at the recesses of his mind, and he was too close to his breaking point for comfort. He had to get out of here before he could lose control and fucking cry in front of everyone. Whipping back around, he shoved Shoto aside—not stopping as he fled even when Shoto stumbled into the desk beside him with what sounded like a pained grunt.
For once, nobody chased after him—finally opting to give him the privacy and space he'd been begging for. When he finally made it to the rooftop, he holed up in the far corner—bringing his knees to his chest and trying to breathe through the crushing feeling in his lungs. For the first time, he wasn't sure if it was better or worse that nobody had followed him.
On the one hand, he was glad for the space—the solitude that allowed him to catch his shattered pieces.
On the other hand, he'd never felt so alone.
Katsuki had been angry at him before. So many times, for so many reasons. He'd even hissed at Izuku before—burned him before, too—but Katsuki had never hissed at him with that look in his eyes. Not even three weeks ago, when the betrayal was fresh. The last time Katsuki had hissed at him, it had looked like hurt. This time, it looked like hatred, and it was the worst thing he'd ever seen in his life. He had thought that they'd gotten to a point where, even if their courtship hadn't worked, they would always be on each others' sides.
He'd ruined that. It was sinking in now—truly settling into his bones in a way that weighed his entire body down. His lack of control over his alpha had destroyed his relationship beyond repair, and Katsuki didn't want anything to do with him.
He'd returned Izuku's courting gifts. He'd rejected him. He'd rejected Izuku entirely. And now, Izuku had to accept it. He loved Katsuki with every breath in his stupid body, and his inability to control his instincts had destroyed his chances. Kacchan was going to consider letting another alpha court him. Shouto had given him a courting gift, and he hadn't rejected the other alpha outright—he'd told him to ask in private. His omega was moving on with another alpha, and it was his fault.
And despite how horrible he felt, he couldn't fight it. He'd promised Katsuki that he had full agency over the trajectory of their relationship, and he'd meant it. If he kept pursuing Kacchan after he'd hurt him so badly, it would be a slap in the face to the omega's agency. He wouldn't be courting Kacchan anymore—not if the omega didn't want him to. That's why he'd put their courtship in Kacchan's hands in the first place—so that he'd always feel powerful enough to make the decision that was right for him.
Now, he had to face the consequences of his failures, as he should. He was a shitty alpha, and there was no getting around it.
It felt like his chest had been ripped open. His mind was a mess—his alpha crashing into the walls in an attempt to get him to follow Katsuki. To get him to hear him out, even though he had nothing to say. He reigned it in, taking a shuddering breath. He would never let his alpha hurt Kacchan again—not even by something as simple as conversation if the omega didn't want it.
"Deku?"
He flinched, jolting back to the present. Then he flinched away at the sight of Ochako, standing barely two feet away from him. He bared his teeth in a low growl—burdened by the unshakeable feeling that he was in the presence of a threat. She chirped at him and he stepped back further, bumping into the desk behind him.
His eyes darted around the room, and he wanted to disappear. Everyone was looking at him. Well, looking between him, Shouto, and Ochako in confusion. He felt trapped, barely able to breathe with the sudden oppressive feeling of being watched amidst his misery. He bit back a growl when Ochako moved to step closer again, but it still rattled in his chest and she froze in her tracks. Then, her nose crinkled and her hand came up to cover it.
"Just...leave me alone," he pleaded. He was suddenly acutely aware of his own scent—going sour and caustic with sadness and distress. He scrambled for his bag, skirting the edge of the room as he made his escape—thankful that nobody tried to stop him.
He needed to get his scent under control. His usual blockers clearly weren't doing the job, and he didn't want to make a spectacle of how upset he was. Especially not in front of Kacchan. He wasn't going to shove his hurt in Kacchan's face when the omega was probably hurting so much more because of him.
'We didn't mean to,' his alpha insisted, as if it mattered. He should have had more control, and he didn't. He'd destroyed Kacchan's trust on him, and that thought was louder than anything that his alpha could push into his head. It added to his distress, though, and as he walked the halls, the other students parted like the red sea—eager to get away from the rotten smell coming off of him.
Thankfully, Recovery Girl was just a few halls away, and she carried stronger blockers than the average corner store did. She carried the kind of patches that were green-lit for hero-work, that wouldn't budge or leak even in the middle of a villain attack. That was what he needed.
Recovery Girl looked up as soon as he entered the nurse's office, nose wrinkling as soon as he stepped in the room. "Are you hurt?" she asked immediately, hopping off her stool to hobble over to him.
"No," he uttered. His voice sounded hollow, even to his own ears. His alpha was despondent now—the moment Kacchan hissed at him replayed over and over in his head, rendering his baser instincts mercifully and miserably quiet. "I need scent patches. Strong ones."
"Why are you so distressed if you're not hurt?" she demanded, getting closer to him—prodding him with her fingers to try to gauge if he was lying or not. He let her. "If you're not careful, you'll drop, Midoriya. Has something happened?"
"Personal issues," he muttered. He hadn't considered the possibility of dropping. Alpha drops weren't common. It didn't matter. He could manage the symptoms. If he was dropping, it was his own fault. "Conflict with a friend. I'll get over it. Just need blockers so I can get through class without stressing everybody out."
"Normal conflicts with friends don't result in this sort or pheromonal decay," she insisted. "This is the result of something more serious—"
"It was a serious conflict," he snapped. She flinched back in surprise, and he felt horrible. He didn't snap at people, and he nearly never interrupted them. "I'm sorry," he backpedaled. "I promise I can get over it on my own, but for now I just need to not have everyone hovering over me. Can I please get stronger blockers for a few days?" He didn't need longer than that. He'd either get his emotions together, or he'd layer his patches.
Recovery Girl looked at him critically, and he waited for her verdict—already guilty for lashing out. For years now, she'd done nothing but help him even when he was self-destructive to the point of disrepair. 'Another failure,' he thought miserably.
"I want you to come back in three days so that I can evaluate you," she instructed. "Prolonged distress is dangerous, especially in heroics. If you don't, I'll make sure you're put on medical suspension."
He grimaced. "I just missed a week because of my rut," he said, despondent. He wasn't just ruining his relationships now. His inability to keep a leash on his instincts would ruin his academic career, too. "I can't afford to miss anymore."
"Then be here in three days," she said, booking no argument. "If you're really in control of the situation, it shouldn't be a problem. And if you're not, I can help you, Midoriya. This isn't a punishment. I'm doing my job by keeping you in good health. Understand?"
He nodded dully. "Yes, ma'am," he mumbled. He let her scrutinize him a moment longer before toddling off to find what he was looking for. She came back, clutching a box of prescription-strength blockers in her hand.
"Have a seat on the bed," she said. "I'm going to neutralize you first, and check your gland for strain before application." He did as he was told, vaguely noting that his ears felt like they were stuffed with cotton. He felt strangely numb over the ache in his chest and the lump in his throat.
There was something weirdly soothing about having his scent wiped away. When he was surrounded by his scent, it felt like he was sliding deeper into a pit that he couldn't crawl his way out of—scared and desperate, tied down with a healthy disdain for himself. He was still hurting, but the lack of misery hanging in the air was grounding—and the more of his scent was neutralized, the more blank he felt.
Blank was good. Blank would let him stay in control. It didn't matter if he was overjoyed a week ago, or if he was miserable this morning. He'd brought it upon himself, and now he would handle it. As he left the nurse's office, he steeled himself—forcing his alpha back as far as he could. He wouldn't bother Katsuki with his feelings. He'd even support him if he accepted Shouto's courting gift.
He'd do anything for Kacchan, as long as the omega was happy.
Katsuki spent the entire fucking day breathing through his anxiety.
He'd hissed at Deku. Like a true, instinctive, violent hiss—a warning that he'd get aggressive if the alpha came any closer. And he'd meant it. It was creating fractures in his already shattered heart. His omega was throwing itself at the fucking walls—half telling him to apologize and roll over for him, and half wanting to run for the fucking hills and never look at Deku again.
Fuck, he never wanted to look at any of his classmates again. Fuck, he'd made a scene in the middle of the goddamn classroom. He could still feel their eyes on him, judging him—his private shit spilling out of its neat container for everyone to see, even if they didn't know what the fuck was going on.
It was almost as visceral as the feeling of Shoto fucking propositioning him in front of his alpha.
Not his alpha. Deku wasn't his fucking alpha anymore. It sucked—because especially with how angry and hurt he was, his instincts were screaming at him to drag Deku back to his nest and let the alpha comfort him, but at the same time they were flashing like a seizure-inducing warning light to not go anywhere near him. Deku had been his greatest source of comfort, and now that motherfucker was the greatest source of his distress.
He wanted to rewind time so that he could have stuck to Deku's side that day, but fuck that too, because he shouldn't have to babysit someone to make them faithful to him. The fact that was that Deku didn't want him enough—didn't love him enough—to commit. He just hated that he was right—that alphas wanted the model omega, and none of them were unique in that regard.
Not even Deku. Shoto would probably get sick of him too, so what the fuck was the point of letting that asshole court him?
Maybe for the off chance that he wouldn't fucking die alone. But was that chance worth being let down again? If Deku, who had felt like the perfect alpha for him, could ditch him for something softer and sweeter, why would IcyHot be any different?
He wanted to lock himself in his room, curl into his nest, and scream in the privacy of his safe space—but even his nest wasn't the same. Deku's stupid fucking courting gifts and his perfect fucking scent had made it better, and now that they were both gone he resented it. When he said he felt like everything had been fucking ruined, he meant it.
He couldn't imagine finding someone else who'd court him so perfectly, or knew him so well—just like he couldn't imagine Deku using all that perfection and knowledge to hurt him so horribly.
He wished Deku had never fucking courted him in the first place.
That was the thought that burned through him as he sat through the rest of his classes. He wished Shoto had gotten to him first—preventing Deku from hurting him so well and so specifically. Fuck, he should have just said no.
He just couldn't figure out what Deku's deal was. Why the fuck did he court Katsuki if he wasn't sure? Was it just that he'd changed his mind, doubts growing as their courtship advanced and Uraraka kept pursuing him? Or was it some kind of fucked up revenge? The thought that it might be the latter made him sick to his stomach.
He'd already doubled up his patches, but he knew that he probably smelled anxious, and there was no way that it wasn't leaking into the classroom. He could tell by the way his friends kept fucking chirping at him—trying to comfort him without understanding what was wrong. Thank god Deku seemed to have dipped for the day, fucking off to somewhere else where Katsuki wouldn't have to look at him.
His pride had probably been wounded when he'd realized he had no say in Katsuki's life anymore. Every knothead on the planet thought like that. He didn't want Katsuki, but he didn't want anyone else to have him either—and he'd tried to exert control as though he hadn't fucked everything up. Well, fuck that.
It was a mantra that he tried to keep running through his head now, every single time his stupid-ass omega wanted to go back to him, he'd just chant it to himself in his head. Fuck that, fuck that, fuck that. Deku had his chance and he'd made his shitty choices. He'd chosen to hurt him. He had to remember that.
He was out of his seat as soon as the final bell rang, pretending not to hear as his friends called after him. He couldn't deal with them now. He didn't want them to ask any questions or give their shitty opinions about IcyHot's courting gift. He didn't want any of it.
If Shoto wanted to talk to him, he could come fucking find him. If he knew Katsuki well enough to court him, he should know where to look for him, too. It would be even better if he gave up on it altogether. His omega hated the idea of being courted by someone else—no matter how comfortable he felt with that person normally. His omega wanted a specific alpha, and hadn't grieved that loss yet. It was still trying to bargain—spitting out maybes and compromises that Katsuki had no fucking interest in.
Before he knew it, he was on the roof of Heights Alliance. He'd been doing that a lot lately. His dorm felt wrong—unnervingly sterile and cold for the last month, ever since he'd scrubbed every trace of Deku out of the room. The only place where he could seem to catch his breath lately was up here. He sat on the ledge at the back of the building, looking out over the forest training ground.
"Is now a good time to talk?"
Katsuki jumped, nearly toppling off the roof. "What the fuck," he said, whirling around to find IcyHot a few feet behind him. "Don't fucking sneak up on me!"
"Sorry," he said slowly. "I just followed you from the classroom. I figured I should catch you before you start studying, I know you don't like being interrupted—"
"Shut up," he snapped, ignoring the rush of satisfaction he felt when the alpha actually did shut up. Shoto listened when he talked, and that was fucking important. 'Deku used to listen,' his traitorous mind whispered. 'At least, I thought he did.' His gut churned miserably. "I can't accept your courting gift." He said it like he was guilty, and hated himself for it.
There were so many shouldn'ts. He shouldn't feel guilty for saying no. He shouldn't be caught up on someone who hurt him. He shouldn't be saying no because of the person who hurt him. He shouldn't be having this conversation, because he should be with Deku. But he shouldn't be with Deku because Deku betrayed him. Deku shouldn't have betrayed him.
He hated all of it.
"So you're rejecting me?" Shouto asked, head tilted. He didn't look angry or upset, just curious. "Sorry, I just...want to be clear—"
"I'm not rejecting you," he interrupted, surprised at himself. He wasn't a liar, and he wasn't the type to placate people. "I'm just...not ready. Not right now."
"Because of Izuku?"
Katsuki flinched. "What?" he demanded, something like a growl forming in his throat. Shouto didn't back down. Damn him.
"He was courting you, right? I don't think anyone else realized, which is why they were encouraging Ochako. And you said it wasn't anyone's business, so I didn't say anything. I thought you two could handle it on your own."
"You fucking knew. Of course you did. Fuck."
"I...I wanted to court you, Katsuki," he said quietly. "You weren't being obvious, you weren't on display. I wanted to court you and I knew Izuku did, too. I knew he was planning to court you, and I knew as soon as he gave you his gift. I watch you a lot," he admitted, looking down and shuffling his feet. "I don't even mean to. You're just impossible to look away from for very long. I knew when something changed for you and I thought I'd missed my chance. Izuku is important to me, so I wasn't going to interfere—" Katsuki scoffed. He wished Shouto had interfered. Maybe he wouldn't fucking feel like this. Hesitantly, Shouto continued. "And then suddenly, you were holding him at arm's length and didn't smell like him anymore. You started showing up in the cafeteria more, using Eijirou as a shield. And I knew your courtship was broken and I had a second chance."
"You saw me fucking miserable and thought about having a second chance? Deku fucked me over," Katsuki snapped. "It's barely been a month, and you thought—"
"I just...didn't want to risk not letting you know how I felt," he said. "I'll understand if you reject me, but I couldn't stand back until someone else caught your eye. I hate that you're miserable. I'm just hoping that you'll give me the opportunity to try to make you less miserable. Maybe even happy."
Katsuki's heart twisted and his omega curled in on itself. He had been happy. He'd been happy with Deku and something had gone horribly fucking wrong and he couldn't figure it out—he was confused and hurt and raw and the thought of letting another alpha close just to be hurt again felt like glass digging into his skin.
He didn't want anyone else, but he didn't want Deku either. He wanted to lick his wounds in peace, but peace was out of fucking reach because the fucking nerd was everywhere. He remained an open wound, and it fucking sucked. Even worse, he was confused, and he didn't know if being around another alpha would help with that, or if it would just make him wonder where he'd gone wrong. As it was, he was already stuck on that, turning the question over in his head over and over.
"I'm still not rejecting you," he uttered, shoulders hunching in. "But...I can't even fucking think about courting right now. It makes me sick." More accurately, it made him want to claw out his own scent glands and give up all together. Because if all the good he'd felt with Deku was a goddamn lie, then what was the fucking point?
Shouto nodded, and Katuski wanted to slap him for being so fucking understanding. He wanted the IcyHot idiot to make it easy—be an asshole so that turning him down didn't feel like shit. "Can I try again later?" he asked, stupidly sincere. "If you don't want me to, I won't."
Katsuki bit his lip. "You can," he finally said. "But never ask me in public again. I'm fucking serious, IcyHot. To me, courting is personal and fucking private. I don't want anyone's nose in my fucking business. The next time you pull something like that, it'll be the last time." Whether that meant rejection or outright murder, Shouto wasn't sure, and Katsuki watched as he straightened—swallowing nervously.
"I won't," he promised. "I'm sorry I did that in front of the class. It's been tough to catch you in private and I didn't want to corner you."
"Then text me, stupid," he snapped. "Just ask me where I am and if I'm down to talk. Ask questions, get answers, shit like that." His heart clenched. Deku knew how to communicate with him. Deku had given him those stupid fucking coupons that had made him feel so seen.
He wished he could get a lobotomy so that he could avoid this part—the part where he compared every single alpha to the careful treatment he'd gotten from a seemingly perfect potential mate. The worst part of it was that with every memory brought to the forefront, not rejecting Shouto felt like a betrayal. His omega felt betrayed—like he was accepting something less than perfect. He felt like he was betraying Deku, even though Deku had betrayed him first. There was a decided wrongness to the whole thing, something that made his skin crawl every time he entertained the thought of moving on.
It was exhausting and disheartening, and he was sick of it. How could romance possibly be worth this much distress?
"Sure," Shouto said, unaware of the absolute turmoil churning through Katsuki's head. "Can...we spend time together? Not officially courting, just to get to know each other." Katsuki raised an eyebrow. The spent most of their days crammed in the same room. They already knew each other. "In a more intentional way, I mean. To see if we're compatible, but without the added pressure."
Katsuki fought the urge to recoil. That sounded like dating, and his omega despised that because it was the wrong alpha. Wrong, wrong, wrong.
Except it wasn't. There was no harm in low-stakes dating because he wasn't with anyone. Not anymore. And it wasn't healthy to hang on to the wreckage of his courtship. It would only render him lonely and miserable. He would rather try something new than stick with feeling broken.
So, he said: "Fine."
Ochako was on edge.
She scanned the classroom, searching for the source of her unrest. It was at least somewhat gratifying to see that she wasn't the only one. There was a tension in the room—something that had been present in their classroom for almost a month. Ever since she'd gotten back from her heat leave, something had been off.
Her heat had been enough of a shock. She hadn't been due for another week. In fact, the reason she'd gone to Deku's room was so that she could ask him to spend her upcoming heat with her, knowing that they'd need time to file consent forms.
She'd been hoping that he'd help her out as a friend. Heats and ruts could be more comfortable with a companion as long as everyone took precautions, so she thought he might agree to help her out, and maybe it would open his eyes to their compatibility. A benign plan, full of intended consent. Just a way to get her proverbial foot into his proverbial door.
But, when she'd gotten into his room, his scent had been so rich—surrounding her completely and shoving her into her heat faster than she'd expected. Then, he'd gotten back and for a few minutes she thought he'd finally seen her. Instead, he'd shoved her back out of his room and she'd spent the first day of her heat in distress.
When she'd finally resurfaced, she figured that he'd pushed her out for her own safety. To make sure she didn't get into something without consenting to it first. It was just like him to hold his instincts on a leash to make sure the people around him were okay. He was so good. Such a perfect, thoughtful alpha.
It made the cold-shoulder she'd received upon her return feel like a bucket of ice-water. He barely even looked at her when she got back. He barely looked at anyone. It was almost a comfort—at first she thought that he was only icing her out, but he didn't talk to anyone. It was almost a comfort.
But seeing him withdraw from everyone wasn't a relief. It made her nervous. It made everyone nervous, especially when Deku's scent started disappearing from everything and the few whiffs they managed to get smelled sour. There were bags under his eyes, and sometimes it felt like he wasn't even in the room.
There was something big going on, and it didn't feel like it had anything to do with her—too massive and insidious to have anything to do with a heat-share. It didn't make her any less concerned. She cared about him.
And he was deteriorating.