Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Katsuki woke up at the ass crack of dawn. Which, well, he usually woke up with the sun and didn't mind it, but he did mind when it was someone else waking him up at the ass crack of dawn and not his own sleep patterns. And he definitely did not enjoy waking up to someone banging on his goddamn door.

With a groan, he turns over, smooshing his face deeper into his pillow.

The banging continues. There’s a voice behind it, not distinct enough for Katsuki to make out the words or to even tell which one of his dumbass roommates it is. But the banging itself is clear, and loud. Goddammit, what’s the point of being hard of hearing if he can’t ignore his roommates bugging him at unreasonable times of the morning?

But the banging doesn’t quit no matter how much Katsuki tries to ignore it so eventually he throws his blankets off of himself and mutters a ‘coming asshole.’

He grabs a crutch to take the pressure of his knees and stands slowly, testing out pain levels and spoons for today. Not too bad. He’ll manage.

He makes his way to the door, free hand swiping at his eyes and yawning deeply, nevermind that a quick look at his clock has him knowing he’d be getting up fifteen minutes later on his own.

He rips the door open and almost takes a fist to the face. Denki pulls back just in time and Katsuki stares at him, unimpressed.

“Why the hell are you banging down my door at five in the morning?” especially considering the earliest Katsuki tends to see Denki is ten am. On a good day.

“I didn’t sleep,” he says breathlessly.

“Yeah no shit,” Katsuki barks, because that's the only reason Denki would be up at this time.

“Can you - - make -?” he asks, and Katsuki’s brain struggles to process the sound as he reads lips with a tired brain.

“Hah?” he asks.

“Uh,” Denki says, and raises his hands, “BREAKFAST. HELP-ME. MAKE-OUT.”

Katsuki snorts at that one. None of them are fluent- including Katsuki himself- but Denki’s JSL is frankly atrocious. They’ve all learned bits to support Katsuki, because they're good friends like that.

“You want me to help you make breakfast?” he asks.

Denki nods eagerly, bangs falling in his face.

Katsuki rolls his eyes, and shows him the proper sign for ‘make,’ and informs him that he did just ask to make out with him. Denki groans, pelting his head with his hand but corrects the sign, still looking expectant.

Katsuki sighs, shifts on his crutch.

“No,” he says curtly.

Denki’s face falls.

“What?” he asks, “why not, that's literally - rude dude, I’m - you - a - .”

“Denki,” Katsuki says, “it is five am. You haven’t slept. Why do you even want to make breakfast in the first place?”

“Hitoshi’s moving in -!” Demnki reminds, “I want - make him break- - - - day here!”

Oh god. Katsuki had forgotten about that. Look, he knows he said yes to Denki’s boyfriend moving in- after all they had the space and a reduction on his rent was definitely a plus- but he had momentarily forgotten how insufferably besotted Denki was with him. Luckily, from the few times Katsuki had met Shinsou, those feelings weren’t reciprocated. Or, they were, in the way that Katsuki was sure Shinsou loved Denki equally but he wasn’t miserably over the top affectionate about it like Denki was.

“Denki,” Katsuki reminds, “He will be moving in. And that will be late morning at earliest. I’m sure he’ll eat before he gets here.”

Denki blinks, as if he hadn’t considered that people might plan on eating before coming over to move in to somewhere new and that moving wasn’t exactly a ‘sit down and eat breakfast first’ kind of activity.

“Oh,” he acknowledges, “well…” Denki rubs the back of his neck sheepishly.

Katsuki sighs.

“I’ll help with lunch,” he grumbles, “Only because I don’t want your dumb ass to have a seizure after not sleeping all night and then not eating after lifting shit and helping move him in.”

Denki grins. Mentally, Katsuki starts to catalog what they have in their fridge and if he’ll need to run to the store.

“Does Shinsou have any food restrictions?” he asks.

“Uh,” Denki says, “Yeah. Carbs and - are trigger foods - he - to avoid -. And large meals in general, he - to eat smaller meals more often - - day.”

“Carbs and what?”

“SUGAR,” Denki signs.

Okay. Low carbs, low sugars. Katsuki can work with that. He mentally adds it to Mina’s list of allergies and cross checks them.

“-, but - bringing - - - - move -.”

Kastuki doesn’t get any of that one.

“Hah?”

“Um,” he sees Denki say verbally, “FRIEND COME. HELP.”

“There’s going to be more people?” he grumbles, because he had signed up for one additional roommate, not a whole hoard.

“Just two -,” Denki promises, “I don’t know - you noticed but our apartment isn’t exactly the image of - - -, - - - are going to help with the lifting.”

“NOT WHAT?” he asks.

Denki scrambles with the signs.

“GOOD STRONG BODIES?” he tries, and then repeats “peak physical health,” giving Katsuki the context to follow.

Yeah peak physical health’ is definitely what they are not, with Katsuki’s shitty joints, Mina’s chronic fatigue, and Denki’s overall shrimpiness. And, Katsuki now remembers, they’re bringing a couch. A couch that no matter how shitty, will be leagues better than the current lump of trash they have lying in their living room. Katsuki’s grateful that he has his own permanent seat in the shape of his wheelchair.

“Alright,” Katsuki says, “I guess I’ll make the dumb extras food too. Check in with them, make sure I won’t poison them?”

“Will do,” Denki agrees, with a silly salute.

“Right,” Katsuki says, “now get the hell away from my room. I need to change and figure out what the fuck I’ll be making us.”

Denki smiles, and knowing when he’s won a battle, darts away before he can push Katsuki far enough for him to take it all back. Uselessly, Katsuki shakes his head, and closes his door.

Nasu dengaku is the meal he settles on as he pulls on his favorite skull t-shirt and transfers to his chair. They already have most of the ingredients and the market a street over has some of the best eggplant Katsuki has ever had. It’s quick, simple, and fits Denki’s text of ‘one of them doesn’t eat most seafood.’

Unfortunately, by the time he’s ready for the day it’s still not quite six and the market won’t be open for another few hours. Katsuki resigns himself to waiting. He preps instead, checking the cupboards for the ingredients he knows they’ll need and empties the dishwasher. He sets Denki and Mina’s dishes to the side, where they can put them away in the higher cupboards. One of them has already been cleared out in preparation for Shinsou coming and now Denki’s shitty cereal sits on top of the fridge.

He wipes down the counters, but doesn’t bother with the floors. With all the foot traffic they're about to get, it’s useless to clean them, even if it’s what Katsuki would normally do on a Saturday morning.

Yoga is next, and he hates every minute of it, but it’s one of the few physical activities he can still do without hurting himself.

Losing his mobility, losing his access to physical activity had been the hardest part of being diagnosed. He still misses it, misses running, misses basketball, and soccer, and games with friends. He sticks mostly to yoga and swimming these days. He doesn’t hate being disabled anymore, though it had been a learning curve. He’s proud of it now, comfortable with his body, happy being disabled. He doesn’t think just about what he’s lost but about what he’s gained.

Friends, a community, a life. He had been so unhappy before. He was a snotty, awful kid and sure becoming disabled didn’t make him a fucking angel or anything, he’s still an asshole and he hates people who talk about disability as a ‘life changing event’ that set their path on a ‘new course.’ It’s not like that. It wasn’t one moment, and it wasn’t just becoming disabled.

It was many moments over time, and becoming disabled gave him access to a lot of those experiences, to a community that challenged him and didn’t let him be a bully. He’s learned a lot from disabled mentors, disabled peers. He’s still active now, it’s just different, and that’s alright. Katsuki’s fine with different. He doesn’t need to be the same, to be able bodied.

He knows it’s not a concept many abled people understand, but it’s true.

He just fucking hates yoga. Mostly because he sees fucking new age holistic health people spouting about how essential oils and yoga will cure him. And look, he’s not knocking holistic health as an entire field, just the people who act like disability isn’t a complex situation that doesn’t inherently need fixing or require traditional medical intervention.

If he gets one more person saying they’ll keep him in their thoughts or tell him if he tries yoga he would ‘overcome’ his need for a wheelchair, or crutches, or cane, he will stab them. Preferably, he’ll stab them with the newest sharp spikes that decorate his chair.

The handles are his favorite, with grips attached with sharp spines to prevent people from grabbing them unwarranted. He’d wanted handles that folded down to avoid the problem altogether but insurance is shit about wheelchairs that actually are custom to the user’s needs and Katsuki is not paying out of pocket for a new one. DIY will have to do- and hey that’s a foundation of cripple punk anyways.

He’s still on the early side when he leaves the house, but many of the chores he means to do in the morning can’t be done until after the move, so he leaves anyway. Saturday will be busy, and he doesn’t want to get caught up in foot traffic. He can grab coffee if he’s early.

The coffeshop owners smile at him when he orders, and Katsuki fucking hates that he’s become a regular, but the other closest coffee shop is a chain and he’s not about to be putting money in those fuckers pockets so he grits his teeth but nods back at the owners anyways, sipping coffee while he looks put the window, watching the market across the street start to set up the stands of fruits and vegetables just outside. Katsuki notes that eggplant is among them, even if that wasn’t even a concern.

Coffee finished, he leaves and makes his way across the street and picks out eggplants for later. The owner- someone else Katsuki has begun to recognize and create a relationship with- greets him and informs him he’s out early.

Katsuki huffs back, and they leave him alone, continuing to set up the oranges. But he’s not a total dick, so Katsuki waits until the owner is finished with the stand before requesting ginger from inside the market. The owner nods and ducks in the actual store, navigating the narrow aisles that Katsuki’s chair has no hope of fitting through.

He comes back out a moment later and Katsuki approves the root, and hands over the eggplant with some cash, the owner rushing back in to ring it all up. It’s once again a quick turn around and Katsuki slings the bag around the back of his chair and releases his breaks to turn and make his way home.

When he reenters the apartment he stops at the door for hand sanitizer, puts away the food, and then washes his hands thoroughly. Mina had been feeling off the other night and Katsuki’s not about to make it worse by tracking in extra germs.

Speaking of, Mina and Denki are sitting on the couch, focusing on a game of Smash Bros. Chores momentarily finished, Katsuki moves to join them.

“Scoot over,” he demands, putting his breaks down even as he knows his chair is infinitely more comfortable than their shit couch. Thank god Hitoshi is bringing a new one. Apparently his dads and little sister are moving and Hitoshi had decided he needed a change, and they had offered him their old couch. A real adult, old couch, not their shitty barely adult funds that scraped together the piece of trash they currently have in their living room.

Mina shoots him a glare, but moves anyways and Bakugou stands and transfers, wiggling to get comfy on their insanely uncomfortable couch.

“I am so ready for a new couch,” Denki insists, practically reading Katsuki’s mind.

Mina murmurs in agreement, and Katsuki narrows his eyes at her. She’s subdued, quiet, the complete opposite of her usual personality.

“Still not feeling well?”

Mina yawns.

“Nah, I’m okay,” she insists and Katsuki presses a hand to her forehead anyways. She’s not running a hot, so no fever. “I only woke up a few minutes before you got home. Denki says you’re making lunch.”

Katsuki confirms, but still reminds himself to keep an eye on her, mentally categorizing any way he can think of to shove some high iron and vitamin c meals in her.

Soon enough, a control is shoved his way and he lets himself be pulled into the game, stabbing buttons with a ferocity his roommates can only dream of rivaling. They groan and complain the entire time as Katsuki whoops their asses, even when they team up on him and Katsuki watches them struggle with a vindictive smirk. They smile anyways, used to Katsuki’s competitive streak and more than happy to lose. It’s why Katsuki thinks they get along better as roommates than if he had lived with Hanta and Eijiro. It had been hard splitting the group up and deciding who lived where, but Katsuki and Sero would have just gotten angry and bitter living together- personalities clashing in close quarters- and Kirishima would have let himself be walked all over by him and Mina. The split they figured out works well, and Katsuki’s just slightly anxious about adding one more person to their dynamic.

He’s met Hitoshi though, so it’s cool. He’s not going to be a dick, not going to be an asshole. He’s gay, and enby so he’s got that cleared and he’s also disabled, from a family who’s other three members are disabled as well. He’s safe, he’s cool, he’s good and Katsuki has to just get that through his fucking head.

It still worries him. He doesn’t want this to be like when he was still living at home.

It won’t be, he knows it won’t. He still worries.

Smash Bros is a welcome distraction. Denki’s been hyperfixating on it again recently, so they’ve been playing it a lot.

But soon enough even that’s ending as Denki gets a text and he squeals, launching out of his spot to excitedly announce Hitoshi is on his way. Katsuki rolls his eyes at his antics and Mina giggles, watching Denki do happy, bouncing stims and flapping his hands.

Denki starts excitedly chattering about how good it will be to have Hitoshi finally living here and Mina chatters back, expressing her own excitement at a new friend. It’s a bit much for Katsuki- the introvert out of the three of the-, so with a supporting arm from Mina to get off this dumb couch he gets up and returns to his room.

When Hitoshi gets here, he’ll offer his limited services as moving assistance and then return to his room until they’re mostly down before sneaking back out to make food. That’s the plan. That’s all he has to do.

He works on some of his kids' file updates on his computer in the meantime, and when the lights flicker on-off in his room he pauses, takes a deep breath, saves his work and sticks his hearing aids back in. He grabs his cane this time, body feeling fairly good today, and makes his way to the front door.

Denki zooms past him, carefully making sure he doesn’t slam into Katsuki and instead slams into the hall wall. Katsuki winces for him, but Denki hardly seems to notice, continuing to race for the door. Mina joins Katsuki at his much more reasonable pace and they watch from a respectful distance as Denki slams open the door and then slams into his boyfriend.

“Oof,” Shinshou mutters, and Katsuki winces in sympathy. Denki chatters excitedly for a minute, giving him a firm kisses on his cheeks and then a final one on his mouth before slowly calming down and letting Shinsou get an arm's length away, but no further.

“You’re here,” Denki breathes, eyes full of stars. Katsuki rolls his eyes and leans against their shit couch, taking some of the pressure off his knees.

Shinsou nods.

“Yup,” he agrees, “That was the plan.”

There’s a box on the floor next to him, and Katsuki wonders if he had been expecting Denki’s flying tackle ahead of time and put it aside just for that. Probably. Shinsou seems smart enough to figure out Denki’s dumbassery.

“Come in, come in,” Denki encourages, as if this is the first time Shinsou has ever been in their apartment.

Shinsou leans down, grabs the box and Katsuki gives an appreciative nod to his arms as his muscles flex with minimal effort.

Before Denki can get another word in, Mina steps forward, leaning on her own cane.

“Hi!” she says cheerfully, much more bright and peppy than earlier. She gives a wide wave and a wider smile, “Nice to see you again Shinsou!”

Shinsou gives her a nod.

“If I can help you move at all, please let me know,” she continues, “I can’t do heavy lifting but if there’s any smaller things you need help with, I got you.”

“Same here,” Katsuki grunts, “and if you need help with the kitchen, I know it better than Mina and Denki combined.”

“Katsuki is an amazing cook,” Denki gushes, “he’s making us lunch later! And it’s something you can eat, I promise! Right Katsuki?”

He nods.

“Alright,” he then says, “I’m going to head to my room. Text if you need me, I’ll probably have my aids out.”

He gets murmurs of consent and then he twists away, leaving. As he goes, he catches Denki asking about Shinsou’s friends and Shinsou briefly explaining that they’re on their way up, just finding a place to park but Shinsou wanted to see him.

Katsuki imagines Denki’s blushing face and scowls, even if he is happy for the dumb motherfucker. With a huff, he slips into his room and sends a text to Denki that if they don’t need help to still text him when they’re wrapping up move-in so Katsuki can start on food and have it ready for them. He’s sure Shinsou’s friends don’t want to stay longer than needed, and Katsuki would at least like to give them something as a thank you for hauling up a couch that’s certain to be a billion times better than their old one.

Okay so Katsuki’s maybe more excited about the new couch than his new roommate. But come on, it’s an actual decent couch. He thinks he has a right to be excited.

He marvels at the idea of actually being able to stand up from the damn thing without relying on a friend's arm or clutching the arm rest for dear life as he hopes he doesn’t dislocate an ankle or knee. Heaven, truly.

Turns out, he’s not needed at all moving in, which is as he had expected. Shinsou brought two friends and really any more people would just crowd the hallways. With Katsuki unable to do any heavy lifting, his help will come in later when sorting the kitchen.

Denki’s text that they’re wrapping up comes two hours later and Katsuki switches to his chair to cook, rolling into the hallway and then to the kitchen to begin prepping. His aids are back in, so he can hear voices from Denki’s room but can’t pick up anything in depth. He tunes it out, and cooks instead. He appreciates them giving him space, much preferring the kitchen empty.

Too many cooks do indeed spoil the pot and Katsuki’s definition of too many is three, sometimes even two. He prefers to cook alone, with maybe one person helping prep if they pass his inspection. But this meal is easy and the eggplant is quick so there's no need for extra hands.

He shoves the dishes into the dishwasher, thankful once more for its addition and washes the pan by hand, letting it dry on the rack by the sink. It’s only then he pulls out his phone, and sends a text.

Mina slips out of her room first, lighting up at the sight of him and waving.

“Did you see the couch?” she asks, and Katsuki realizes he hasn’t. He spins out of the kitchen to where the living room is visible and his jaw drops.

The couch isn’t brand new, sure, but it’s wider and looks soft and it doesn't have stains and doesn’t look like it will eat them alive. Katsuki is already in love with it.

“Thank god,” he says, and then the door to Shinsou and Denki’s room opens. Denki exits first, turning to talk to the people behind him. Shinsou follows him. The next is a head of split red and white hair. Katsuki studies the stranger for a moment, and it’s due to his distraction that he doesn’t notice the mop of green right behind it immediately.

But he does a few seconds later and he blinks.

And then blinks again.

He takes note of the freckles, the green eyes, the green hair, the tapping fingers. Katsuki gapes. But there’s no fucking way it can be-

And then split hair says something and the green-haired person laughs and god fucking dammit.

“Deku?” Bakugou asks.

Green hair whips and green eyes bore into his, wide, as he stills in place. He stares at Katsuki for a minute, observing up and down- taking note of the wheelchair, certainly. In turn Katsuki takes note of the tube that runs from the side of his face into his nose. Last time he saw Midoriya Izuku, he definitely didn’t have a feeding tube.

“Kacchan?” a familiar voice- a voice he could never forget- asks.

Chapter Text

“Oh my gosh!” Mina squeals.

“You two know each other?” Denki says with fucking puppy eyes, looking between the two of them.

“‘Deku?’” half-and-half asks with narrowed eyes and wow, those are different colors too- as Shinsou watches from aside, arms crossed.

Deku- and it is Deku- is still staring at him and Katsuki meets his gaze firmly, because he doesn’t know what else to do. It’s always been a battle between Deku, a challenge. And sure, maybe he’s changed, but it’s so easy to slip back into old habits when Deku of all people is standing right in front of him.

Deku laughs, and it’s uneven, uneasy. It’s the laugh he’d always let out when Katsuki described some new way to hurt him. He can’t believe Deku still laughs that way around him, after all this time. It’s probably fair, considering Katsuki’s looking at him the same after all these years. He tries to relax, let go of the glare.

“Uh yeah,” Deku agrees, “Kacchan and I- we were neighbors growing up.”

Easy way to put it, but if Deku’s not going to say something, Katsuki’s sure as hell not going to bring it up.

“Until you moved,” Katsuki points out.

That same, uneasy, uncomfortable laugh.

“Uh, yeah,” Deku repeats, “That I did.”

It had been sudden at the time, even if it wasn’t really sudden. Deku had gotten sick a lot as a kid and in fifth grade he missed more school then he attended and so Deku being absent wasn't actually something abnormal.

At the time, Katsuki’s parents were always encouraging him to bring over broth or dumplings to the Midoriya’s door just a few units down and Katsuki had huffed but always complied. He hated bringing them food. It had been so annoying as a kid because no one was sick that much which meant that Deku was either lying and pretending or he was just a weakling like Katsuki always said and well, the days Deku did come to school weren’t pleasant for him. Katsuki had made sure they weren’t.

If he hadn’t been such a dumb, stuck up, bully at the time he might have noticed the dropped weight or the throwing up in school bathrooms, the bloating and the stench of diarrhea, the way Deku would wrap his hands around his stomach and fall asleep during lectures. At the time they had all been signs of Deku being weak, a baby, incapable. Now, Katsuki sees so much more.

He had been such a dumb kid.

It hadn’t been sudden, the signs.

What had been sudden was that one day Izuku lived in the apartment a few doors over, and then the next he was gone. His parents didn’t talk to him about it, just whispered something about being sick, and specialists, and he had never seen Izuku again.

Now at 25, Katsuki feels that same sense of sudden change with the reappearance of Izuku in his apartment of all places.

“Oh that’s so cool!” Denki points out, “and Kacchan, huh? Who knew a guy like you would have such a cute nickname.”

“Shut up,” Katsuki snarls, much more maliciously than he ever does with his friends, “Don’t fucking call me that.” Denki blinks and apologizes and something in Katsuki wilts.

He feels like that same dumb kid, that same dumb bully and he knows he's not, he knows he's changed but now Deku is in his apartment and he’s acting the same exact way he had as a kid. He hates that it’s so easy, so instinctual to slip back into that role after so long changing himself for the better.

“Katsuki,” Mina pipes up, “You made food, right?”

Not breaking his gaze from Izuku, he nods.

“Nasu dengaku,” he announces, “no seafood, low carbs, low sugar, right?”

He wonders if he’ll get a nod from Izuku, because he recognizes a feeding tube when he sees one and he thinks of tiny Izuku puking his guts out in the toilet while Katsuki and his friends had laughed outside, knowing they had him trapped where he couldn’t escape and he cringes. But he gets a nod from Shinsou- expected- and another from half-and-half.

“Food’s in the kitchen,” he says, “plates and silverware are too. Serve yourself.”

Part of him wants to return to his room, to hide away but he can’t fucking manage it because he can’t leave Deku alone. Now that he’s seen him his mind is spinning and Katsuki needs to keep him in his sight, needs to hear his words, see how he’s changed and figure out what the hell he’s going to do in return. There’s always been something about Deku that Katsuki couldn’t ignore.

Plus, goddammit, this is Shinsou’s friend. A person he trusted enough to help him move and then stay for food. Which means he might be around the apartment and Katsuki has to figure out how to navigate that. So Katsuki serves some eggplant on his plate and then wheels up to the table, stabbing into his food viciously. The crowd follows.

“So, Deku and…” Mina eventually starts once they’ve each had a few mouthfuls and numerous thanks have been shoved Katsuki’s way.

Deku cringes.

“Uh, it’s Midoriya actually, Midoriya Izuku, that’s just what Kacchan calls me,” he laughs. Still awkward, still unsteady, still uneasy. Katsuki grips his nails into his palms.

“Oh, sorry!” Mina says, “Well I’m Ashido Mina, nice to meet you!”

She then turns to half-and-half who’s split his attention between glaring at Katsuki and pushing around his food with bangs that fall over his face. Katsuki wonders if he styles his hair that way to hide his facial scarring, because he constantly seems to brush the strands towards it when they begin to waver the other direction.

“I’m Todoroki Shouto,” he introduces, “I’m an alter in a dissociative system.” He pauses, pushes some more food around, “Do you know what that is?”

Mina admits no in a soft but bright tone and Katsuki raises a brow, waiting for the explanation to follow.

Todoroki clears his throat.

“I have DID- a dissociative disorder classified by dissociation, amnesia, and distinct identities called alters. I am one of many alters inhabiting this individual body. Others may switch in or out depending on need and circumstance.”

Definitely something Katsuki’s going to need to look up later. He’s heard of dissociative disorders and done his research on different outcomes of trauma but if Todoroki is going to be hanging out in the same circles as his roommates, he’s going to need to know more than basics. Todoroki deserves to be treated like a human, and Katsuki needs knowledge to be able to do that.

“Oh okay,” Mina says, “Is it okay if I ask questions, or should I look into it in my own time?”

Todoroki doesn’t appear to be listening, instead staring at Katsuki. It’s starting to piss him off, especially as Deku looks back and forth between the two of them, gently nudging Todoroki with his elbow.

“What?” Katsuki eventually snaps, when Todoroki’s eyes don’t fucking leave him.

“I don’t like you,” Todoroki says plainly, and the table stills. Deku lets out that damn uncomfortable chuckle.

“Shouto,” he hisses, “It’s-”

“Do not say it’s okay, Izuku,” Todoroki insists, “You told me h-”

“Shouto,” Deku says, “Please, not here.”

Todoroki finally breaks his gaze with Katsuki to turn to Deku, blinking slowly, then frowning, and nodding.

“I have to get going soon,” he then announces, “Izuku, we took Tenya’s car. Should I take public transportation back?”

“No, no,” he insists, and then takes a large bite of food. “It’s fine, I’ll drive, we can go.”

Katsuki wonders if he’s rushing just for Todoroki or if he wants out of this just as much as his friend seems to. As much as Katsuki also wants out of this situation. Except- except Katsuki doesn’t want out if he takes a moment to actually consider it. He wants to cling to Izuku, ask about him, ask about his life and hear everything. He wants to know if he’s okay, if- if he got through it all. He wants to know if the bullying he tormented Deku with for years was something of the past, something Izuku barely remembers of if it’s something that still haunts him. Katsuki needs to know if he ruined Izuku's life.

But by that nervous laugh and uneasy glances he thinks he already has his answer.

“Uh, I think we’re going to head out, Shinsou. Good luck with moving! And thank you Denki for letting us help. And Kacchan- the food was great. Ashido, nice to meet you it was all-”

“Izuku.”

“Coming, coming,” Deku mumbles, and he stumbles after Todoroki as he heads for the door.

The minute they’re gone, Katsuki gathers his own plate together, pushes away from the table and excuses himself. He has work to do anyways, those files won’t fucking write themselves and Shinsou needs time to get settled so there’s really no reason for him to hang around.

He tells himself that disappearing to his room, withdrawing, isn’t because he feels this sinking sense of responsible and dread from fucking Midoriya Izuku walking back into his life. No, not at all. He’d be doing this anyway even if the dumb nerd hadn’t showed up.

So he pushes the thoughts of green hair and a small, determined smile paired with crocodile tears and does anything else to distract himself.

Distractions only work for so long, and his alarm goes off eventually, the blinking light flashing up at the ceiling. Usually, he goes to the gym by himself- in the mornings- but Denki can’t swim by himself and never gets up earlier than freaking noon on the weekends so weekend evenings they go together. Part of him wants to cancel, say he’s busy with work but if he acts any weirder than he did at lunch, Denki will definitely bug him about it and Katsuki doesn’t know where his own thoughts start and end with this whole reunion, much less how to explain it to someone else.

So Katsuki closes his computer, turns off his phone, changes his clothes, and grabs his gym bag. He heads to the living room, stopping to knock briefly on Denki’s door to remind him, and gets an expected yelp of ‘coming!’ back.

Ten minutes later, exactly late on schedule, Denki slips out of his room, own gym bag slung over his shoulder. Katsuki grunts an affirmation when Denki asks if he’s ready to leave and tilts his head towards the door. Denki smiles, skipping ahead and opens the door for them both. In turn, Katsuki makes to grab both their sets of keys, watching Denki grin sheepishly as he realizes he was about to forget them again.

It’s not until they’re waiting for the bus that Denki finally confronts him.

“So, you know Midobro?” Denki asks.

“I didn’t know you knew him,” Katsuki replies in turn, just as the bus pulls up, trying to distract Denki from Katsuki’s own history with Deku.

The bus’s doors open and they wait as passengers exit and the bus driver drops the ramp. They take a minute to get settled on the bus before they continue conversing because while it is mostly empty, he always tends to get glares, stares, and intentional eyes avoiding him. He feels like a fucking zoo exhibit.

“Yeah,” Denki agrees once he’s firmly gripped one of the standing bars on the bus. “I mean I don’t know him a whole lot but he’s one of Shinsou’s close friends. They went to high school together. Actually, if Hitoshi didn’t move in with us, he probably would have moved in with Izuku and Shouto.”

“Deku and Todoroki live together?” he asks, not sure why he fucking cares. It’s just- well he’s always been so stuck, so fucking fixated on Deku. Even now, over a decade since he last saw him.

“Yup,” Denki pops, “But then well, Hitoshi and I have been talking about maybe living together for a while now, but Deku and Todoroki’s apartment is too small for us both and Todoroki’s pretty… protective of his space anyways, so…” he shrugs and the bus jolts lightly, forcing Denki to adjust a foot so he doesn't fall flat on his face.

“So you know Izuku from school too?” Denki asks.

Katsuki sighs.

“Yeah,” he admits, “elementary school and earlier. We lived on the same floor in the building I grew up in.”

“Oh cool,” Denki says, but he hesitates.

Katsuki knows he has something on his mind and he knows Denki’s going to ask one way or another so he gives a little glare to speed up the process.

“I- Shouto didn’t seem super fond of you,” Denki admits, “What was that about?”

Katsuki’s guess is that Deku had told Todoroki how much of a fucking asshole he was to him growing up, but Deku had never told anyone about the shit Katsuki put him through, not even to his mom, so really he’s not sure. Maybe he could just tell that Deku was uncomfortable, and not their whole history.

“Dunno,” Katsuki says, “Deku did move away pretty suddenly.”

Denki watches him.

“But you were friends?”

Yeah. They were. They were, when they were toddlers. Back when Izuku’s mom worked all day and so did Katsuki’s mom so Katsuki’s dad had watched them both. They had shared toys and raced back and forth between apartments, giggling all the while. Izuku lended him comic books and Katsuki had offered his action figures in return. They sat next to each other in class, at recess, been inseparable.

Then- and Katsuki’s not sure quite when- they began to grow apart. Katsuki’s mom changed to working part time and his dad went back to work and Izuku started the after school program so they didn’t spend as much time at each other’s places and Katsuki started to make other friends and Izuku didn’t and Katsuki’s mom always said he was destined for great things if he could only do what he was told so Katsuki spent more time on his homework and sports than playing with Izuku. And Deku wanted to be just like Katsuki so he had joined soccer too, and basketball, and volleyball, and swimming, and whatever other sport Katsuki was doing at the time.

Except Izuku was small, and weak, and got out of breath running and then slowly he dropped from sports and couldn’t keep up. Katsuki’s mom wanted him to hang out with other promising kids with promising futures, just like him, and that was when Izuku became Deku. Because Deku wasn’t a kid with a ‘promising future.’

Deku kept falling behind and Katsuki honed in on that, calling him a failure because that’s what his mom always said about him when he couldn’t keep up, when he couldn’t do well enough. It wasn’t that much later that Deku got sick, and then sick again, and then again and then Deku was always sick. And then he was gone.

“Something like that,” Katsuki agrees.

Denki opens his mouth to push more, but the next bus stop brings a wave of teenagers and Katsuki’s not good hearing when there’s background noise in enclosed spaces, which Denki knows, so Katsuki has the perfect excuse to zone out and look at the window, ignoring the stares around him- only one set actually from his friend.

Swimming is nice. The water is cool, a nice break from the heat outside and the smooth strokes have his mind clearing. For two hours all thoughts of Deku fade and he just exists in the pool, going through laps to decrease the tenseness of his body.

He keeps an eye out for Denki, who does laps with him for a while before cutting into some game of volleyball with a group that looks around their age. He has eyes on him, so Katsuki’s confident in his friend’s ability not to drown himself if he has a seizure. The game looks fun and Katsuki might have even joined on another day, but right now he just needs some time for himself, some time to get lost in the repetitive motions of exercise without attempting to socialize with others.

He needs to not think for some time.

He doesn’t sleep well that night, or the next. He pulls himself away from his friends and he can’t figure out if he’s doing it because he needs the space, needs the time to think, or because he’s self sabotaging. He thinks about maybe calling his dad, asking for his advice because his dad has always been dependable like that. But Izuku is engrained so deeply into Katsuki’s childhood which means that inevitably, Katsuki’s mom will come up and he really doesn’t have the energy to talk about his mom with his dad.

He finally spills on Monday afternoon when Shinsou’s home at his parents' house for dinner and Eijiro and Hanta are over for ‘Bakusquad Movie Night.’ Katsuki scowls everytime they use the name, but doing so doesn’t deter Mina from still calling it that so Katsuki opens one of the beers that Eijiro hands him and decides that if he’s going to be dealing with all four of his friends than he would at least like to be buzzed.

“You can’t keep pretending you hate movie night when it happens every week,” Denki points out and Katsuki replies to that statement with his middle finger. What a fucking asshole. He absolutely can to pretend to hate it each time.

Movie night is also a loose term because it’s usually pregamed by ordering food and a combo of drinking and getting high depending on who (Mina and him drink, Hanta and Denki take edibles, Eijiro abstains). That pregaming also tends to last most of the night so they turn on maybe an episode of some crappy reality show in the background unless one of them actually comes to the night swearing they’ve found an actual good movie for them to watch that week.

“So, what’s new?” Eijiro asks, “Denki, how's having your boyfriend live with you?”

Denki immediately perks up.

“It’s great!” he exclaims, “I was a little scared because y'know, I can be kind of intense and Hitoshi’s a lot more withdrawn but it’s been amazing. I get to wake up to him every morning and I think I’m in love.”

He finishes his announcement with a dramatic swoon, leaning back on their damn amazing couch and settling his head on Mina’s chest, using her breasts as a partial pillow, and swinging his legs up to put on Katsuki's lap. Katsuki pushes them off with a grumble, and then readjusts because his hips are starting to bother him. It’s been a bad pain day and he has a knee brace and both his wrists braces on, finger splints to boost. His hip keeps popping like a bitch and really- it all sucks. But he wants to drink with his friends so he’s avoiding taking his pain meds.

Call him an idiot but…

Yeah, call him an idiot. He doesn't want pain interfering with his fun.

Maybe he should take a page out of Hanta’s book who self-medicates his POTS symptoms and pain with pot.

Eijiro runs through them all and when he gets to Katsuki, bugging him to share about his week- Katsuki finds himself blurting out an admittance he knows he wants to discuss but doesn’t know how.

“Shinsou’s friends with a kid I used to bully in elementary school,” he admits, and they all look at him. He cringes away slightly, gripping his beer tightly, before relaxing what he’s doing and puffing up instead, throwing back his shoulders and raising his chin.

“Dude,” Denki breathes.

“That’s how you know Midoriya?” Mina asks.

Katsuki sighs, and nods.

“Wait, who?” Hanta asks, and the wide eyes with blown pupils are mostly from the weed but Katsuki still can’t help but feel judged. And shit, he should be judged. He was horrible to Deku as a kid.

“Hitoshi brought two friends to help him move in,” Denki explains, “Midoriya Izuku was one of them. Him and Katsuki knew each other as kids. He calls Kats ‘Kacchan’ if you can believe it.”

“Kacchan?” Hanta snorts.

“Don’t call me that,” Katsuki snaps, “And yeah, he lived down the hall, we went to the same school. We were friends when we were really little but once we got to elementary school I was a total asshole to him. I bullied him and made his life living hell.”

“Okay,” Eijirou says, “Right, well not cool, but I’m sure you knew that. And like you said, you were kids and you apologized and-”

“I haven’t apologized,” Katsuki snaps, “I- I bullied him. Relentlessly. And yes you guys know I was a dick kid and I grew up and got my shit together but Deku moved. One day he was there, and I was his bully, and the next he didn’t live four doors down from me. He was just gone. I never apologized. I never made the choice to stop bullying me. Deku never-”

Katsuki shakes his head useless and without knowing how to continue. How does he move forward from here?

“Dude,” Denki breathes, “he’s friends with my boyfriend. You got to apologize.”

“I know,” Katsuki snaps, “It’s just weird. I don’t even know how much he remembers and stuff. Like I said, we were kids.”

“Usually, that’s something people would figure out by talking things out and communicating,” Eijiro points out, the annoying voice of reason. It’s why they would be horrible roommates, Eijiro would always want to talk about feelings and communication and as much as Katsuki loves him, he cannot handle that all day every day.

“Shut up, I’m not one of the kids you work with,” Katsuki snarls.

“You work with the same kids,” Eijiro challenges right back.

Katsuki snorts, because while he might work with the kids, they’re not his kids like they are Eijiro’s. Katsuki’s just there because… because, well he is. He’s not there like Eijiro is, changing lives and inspiring the future generation or whatever fucking bullshit. Katsuki just doesn’t mind the brats, that’s all.

“It really does sound like you need to talk to this guy,” Eijiro insists.

Katsuki finishes his beer.

“I need another beer,” he announces, and prepares to stand. He hadn’t brought his chair out because he had just moved from his room to the living room, and now he’s sort of regretting it with the way his joints feel like jelly. He uses his pain as a distraction from his friends' looks of expectation. He stands with a grunt, keeping his weight off his worse hip and shuffles towards the kitchen, eyeing furniture closest to him in case he needs to grab something if he falls.

Eijiro brought the beer this week even though he doesn’t fucking drink it and the first wasn’t cold but now that they’ve been sitting in the fridge for a while, they’re nice and chilled. Katsuki opens it, listens to the satisfying hiss and takes a solid gulp before shuffling back to the couch. The entire group is still silent, eyes on him.

He looks away, and sits. It’s then his knee makes an audible pop- one that it’s really not supposed to make- and he barely avoids biting his tongue as Denki winces next to him at the noise.

“Jesus,” Hanta says at the noise.

Katsuki sets his beer down, takes a deep breath, and inspects his knee. His hands shake lightly because goddamn it hurts but it’s a familiar pain and he breathes through it. Fingers carefully undo the brace that was supposed to be helping prevent this very thing, and he inspects the damage.

“Is it dislocated?” Mina asks, “Can we help?”

Katsuki shakes his head, teeth clenched.

“Subluxed,” he confirms.

He’s quick to jam it back into place but the sensation isn’t pleasant. At least he has a beer to take the edge off. It’s about now he’s wishing he chose to take his pain meds instead of casual drinking with friends. Mina seems to be able to tell, because she reaches across Denki to tap her own bottle gently against his, a silent offering of support. Katsuki relaxes against the couch.

“Are we actually going to watch something tonight?” he eventually grumbles, “Or are you going to keep gossiping like middle schoolers?”

It’s a successful diversion and Denki and Mina take a minute to squabble over the remote.

“I’ll talk to him,” he promises, when the credits roll an hour later and they’ve all sobered up.

No one asks, because they all already know who and what he’s referring to.

Chapter Text

Shinsou isn’t all bad, Katsuki’s decided, even if that decision isn’t exactly new. The thing is, there’s an adjustment from knowing Shinsou as Denki’s boyfriend to Katsuki’s newest roommate. He’s been friendly with him before, but he’s never known Shinsou past casual conversation.

Living together has them colliding, running into each other, existing in the same space. It comes with an adjustment period, as any change does. Katsuki quickly learns that they’re both much more introverted than the rest of their friends so they have really only connected when forced by those around them.

They review house rules the first week because it is something important, vital to community living that Katsuki had first learned when he started to share space with people who weren’t his family. Honestly, the first few weeks of living with Eijiro way back when had been hell because neither of them knew how to be a fucking decent roommate and that’s part of the reason that they still don’t live together years down the line.

The transition to living with Mina and Denki was easier, but Shinsou is a whole new person that Katsuki doesn’t know on the same level as he had known Denki and Mina when they had first rented together. In addition, there’s an entire new dynamic with the fact that Denki and Shinsou are dating.

A lot of what they go over is housekeeping. Chores, mostly, and Katsuki points out the chore chart they’ve set up with little stickers because that’s the only way they’ve found that works with their communal brain fog. Shinsou’s agreeable to the system and quickly calls purple as his color for the chart. There’s disability stuff too, with filling in of emergency info and basic standards of living in a household with someone who’s immunocompromised.

“My sister is immunocompromised,” Shinsou tells them- Mina really, because she’s the one this particular set of rules is so important about, “So I get it. If there’s things I can do to make you feel more comfortable, let me know.”

Mina smiles brightly, and there’s a sidebar there about Shinsou’s little sister that Katsuki doesn’t follow much.

In turn, Shinsou shares about his sleep attacks and cataplexy and main triggers. He talks about the self harm scars that cover his arms and asks about wearing short sleeves indoors. Denki glares at Katsuki and Mina as he asks, as if Katsuki would tell Shinsou he couldn’t fucking wear short sleeves in his own goddamn house. It’s Shinsou’s body; scars aren't a reason to hide, to cover up. A person’s body isn’t a trigger warning.

Basics, mostly, like he said. Things that Katsuki’s learned are proper fundamentals of communication of living with people, not that he’d ever known it from the household he grew up in.

“What about visitors?” Shinsou prompts. Katsuki’s mind screams ‘Deku, Deku, Deku.’

“We pretty much start with asking?” Denki admits, “But familiar people are fine. I’d say Shouto and Izuku, yeah?” The end is directed towards Mina and Katsuki, who nod.

“Alright,” Shinsou says, “Fair. Also, I spend a lot of time with my family. We’re close. And I know that family can be weird.”

Mina nods.

“Katsuki - mommy issues,” she not so subtly adds.

“Mina,” Katsuki hisses, because come on, it’s not exactly a secret but also not something he likes to project, jesus. Mina throws her hands up and leans back with an eye roll.

“It’s true,” she insists, and yeah well, it’s also true that if she keeps talking Katsuki will stop making her breakfast before work. (No, no he won’t, but he can pretend).

“My dads are gay,” Shinsou says, “And I also have mommy issues.”

Shinsou looks at Katsuki who gives him a nod of understanding. Mommy issues for real.

So yeah, roommate boundaries go fine he guesses. Shinsou’s fine, he’s cool, and he just so happens to be close friends with Katsuki’s childhood friend turned childhood victim. Whatever.

“- Denki - you - - -?” Shinsou asks on Katsuki’s day off, reality TV with sound off and subtitles running in the background as he works on case notes.

“Hmm, what?” Katsuki says, looking up from his work and shifting his attention to listen and process spoken speech.

“You work with kids?” Shinsou asks.

“Yeah,” Katsuki admits, and he hates how the question makes him bristle.

“Cool,” Shinsou says, “In what way? Do you teach?”

“Fuck no,” Katsuki says with a laugh, “I’d be an awful teacher. No, it's an after school program. It’s- there’s this program for what they call ‘at-risk youth.’ Basically if they meet four out of six requirements they have the opportunity to join the program and it helps them earn credits. A lot of them don’t want to be there, but for a good portion of them it’s this or remedial school… so.” He shrugs.

The program is flawed, sure. It doesn’t take into account a lot of factors like why, for example, these kids are ‘at-risk’ in the first place, but if Katsuki wanted to do something about that portion he’d have to go into law or education or something and he barely made it through university as is, much less further continuing his education.

Plus, Katsuki likes to think his team has put together an environment that works, that actually supports the kids they’re serving. It is perfect but their kids do seem to be succeeding. Doing that within the program requirements they have has been hard work, and Katsuki’s shocked sometimes that they’re able to create change. They’re actively helping these kids. He hopes. He likes to think they are.

He likes to think that if he had something like this when he was a kid maybe it wouldn’t have taken him as long as it did to get his shit together. It wasn’t until his late teens that he had found services that had supported him, and that was only after getting diagnosed. Programs like this intervene earlier, and Katsuki could have really benefited from something like that.

Shinsou nods.

“My dad kind of does the same thing,” Shinsou shares, “He leads- god - would hate it - I called it a support group, but that’s kind of what it is- um well, a gathering? Thing? For disabled youth. Pretty much helping them figure out their lives and futures. It’s a whole program, but - works with a lot of transitional youth, helping prepare them for adulthood.”

Katsuki blinks, tilts his head towards Shinsou, pays attention.

“Yeah?” he asks, refusing to press too much.

Shinsou nods.

“The organizations as a whole- UA- focuses on fighting ableism, and he works within their youth outreach.”

Katsuki barks out a sudden, startled laugh.

“I was part of their transitional program,” he admits, “Seventeen until twenty two. Who’s your dad?”

The group is local, so chances are if his dad has worked there for a handful of years, Katsuki had met him. But off the top of his head, Katsuki can’t remember any Shinsou’s.

“Aizawa Shouta.”

Katsuki’s eyes widen, and he leans forward, entire body reacting to the news.

“No shit?” he says.

Aizawa? God it feels like fucking forever since Katsuki had talked to the man. They still run into each other sometimes- such is the reality of being active in local disability communities- but they haven’t spoken personally in a long time. He knows he definitely has an email sitting in his inbox from the man, growing more and more old as Katsuki avoids it. There’s no reason for him to, he knows Aizawa would love to hear from him and as much as Katsuki had hated him as a teen, Aizawa had changed the course of his entire life for the better.

Maybe that’s why it’s hard to reach out, because Aizawa has seen the worst of him, the best of him, knows Katsuki so fully and knows exactly how to push him.

Maybe it’s because Katsuki wants to be able to impress him if they talk again and he’s not sure he’s done enough with his life to do that for the man.

“Your dad kicked my ass as a kid,” Katsuki eventually admits, and Shinsou laughs.

“Yeah, that sounds like him,” he admits, “he’s not the most… gentle of people.”

“No,” Katsuki agrees, “That he is not.”

He remembers Aizawa glaring at him when he had shown up with no mobility aids, obvious limp in his step and asked him why exactly he wasn’t taking care of his body. He had challenged Katsuki again and again about his internalized ableism, his views of seeing himself as weak, and then had later helped Katsuki as he cried about a body that was changing so rapidly on him, not allowing him to do the things he used to be able to do.

‘We lose so much,’ Aizawa had commiserated, ‘but there is gain too. Grieve your body as much as you need. But don’t let the grief stop you from living and appreciating the body you have now.’

At the time Katsuki had wanted to scream at the man, had wanted to yell at him, to ask him how he was supposed to ever love this body. Now, years later, Katsuki understands. He thinks of his body, every single part of it, and embraces it. It still frustrates him when it hurts and pinches but it does so much for him as well. He’s grateful for what his body still can do, still can give him. It’s given him a community, a culture, and at its core it's his. It’s his body. There's something to be said about just that singular fact.

“Hey, um,” Shinsou says, a strange slur to his words. “I’m going to fall asleep.”

Katsuki pulls himself out of memories.

“Okay,” Katsuki says, “can I do anything?”

Shinsou blinks, and it’s slow.

“Nah,” he eventually says, “Just don’t…” he pauses mid sentence, staring off, “don’t freak out, y’know?”

“Got it,” Katsuki agrees. He has a few questions for Shinsou about Aizawa, but they can wait until after Shinsou’s done having a medical episode. He’s still awake, but Katsuki watches him blink, slowly looking less and less lucid and he thinks it’s only a matter of time.

Shinsou mutters a few more things, Katsuki missing most of it, and then he drifts off.

He wakes a few minutes later with a yawn, blinking carefully and taking stock of his surroundings with blurry eyes. Katsuki gives him a minute.

“Sorry,” Shinsou says, “‘m good.”

Katsuki shrugs.

“Okay. Well your dad is an… interesting man.” Which is certainly one way to describe Aizawa Shouta.

“You’re telling me,” Shinsou groans and Katsuki then realizes he’s heard a lot about one of his dads- and well, he actually personally knows Shinsou’s dad- but he hasn’t really learned much about Shinsou.

“So what do you do with your time?” Katsuki asks, because he’s pretty sure Shinsou doesn’t work full time.

“I draw,” Shinsou says, “other art too. Commissions, mostly. Done a few murals in the city, stuff for events. Disability makes it impossible to hold down a job, but I work part time at a coffee shop too. Minimal hours. Stress - a huge trigger for my cataplexy attacks.”

Katsuki nods.

He gets it, finding a job had been near impossible for him as well, constant denial when he’d show up with various mobility aids and hearing aids hooked over his ears. It had been Kirishima who had landed him his current job, vouched for him, defended Katsuki’s access to reasonable accommodations, and declared that he was worth it. He’s still a bit bitter about it, but not at Eijiro, never at Eijiro. It just sucks to have to rely on able bodied people to support him sometimes. But that’s part of allyship, and he knows how important various able bodied people are to their community. Friends, family, carers, advocates. As long as they work with the community, Katsuki tolerates them. Eijiro is easy to tolerate, and easier to love.

The guy is a teddy bear, a golden retriever. He’s easy to be friends with. Most of his friends are that way. It’s probably because Katsuki’s hard to become friends with in the first place.

He thinks maybe Shinsou’s the same way. They still haven’t talked about anything too deep, hobbies, work, but there’s a steel in Katsuki’s eyes that he recognizes. But instead of making him uncomfortable, it’s almost relieving to see, to know that there’s familiarity in this stranger. And, even if Katsuki still needs to gather the courage to email or text him back, Shisou gets instant bonus points for being Aizawa’s son.

Shinsou settles in nicely, and he brings a change to their apartment, largely in the fact that he has a completely different friend group than what Katsuki has previously been a part of. Denki, Mina, and him all ran in the same circles but Shinsou hasn’t been a part of that. He gets to know their friends, and in turn, they meet his.

Well, they’ve already met the two main ones. Todoroki and Deku haven’t visited again but it has only been two weeks so it’s really too soon to call it. And sure enough, Shinsou makes a comment about having them over sometime and then somehow Katsuki finds himself cooking dinner for six.

No seafood, low carbs, low sugars.

He sets out to find a couple recipes that will fit, so that in the future he’ll have some ready to go. He then realizes he’s thinking of a future of having Todoroki and Deku in his kitchen, of having Deku regularly in his apartment and he’s not quite sure what to do with that fact.

He thinks about showing up late to dinner but that's a bit hard to accomplish when he- first of all- lives in the very apartment where dinner is being hosted- and second- is the one cooking the dinner. So yeah, can’t exactly be late to that. He wonders if Deku will say something, if he’ll bring up the past. He’d deserve it, deserve being exposed in front of all of his friends after beating up Deku in the back of the school yard.

Or maybe Denki will say something, or Mina. Not intentionally, but they told him to talk to Deku so they’ll let something slip about the whole situation and then it will spiral and before long Deku and Katsuki will sit across the table staring at each other while an awkward cloud of ‘what now’ hangs over them.

Katsuki knows they need to talk, but this doesn’t seem like the setting, but he also doesn’t know what would be the right setting or how to contact Deku or what to say or how to start. Katsuki doesn't know how to do this, and he doesn’t know how to figure out how to do it either.

It’s not Deku, or Denki, or Mina, or even himself that brings up the relationship between him and Deku. It’s Shinsou.

“Hey, Izuku, you were looking for people to help out with pride, right? Bakugou works with youth after school care.”

There’s that awkward cloud of ‘what now.’

“Uh,” Deku says, “I uh, yeah. Right! Um that’s- wait, Kacchan you work with kids?”

Deku’s tone holds disbelief, amazement, confusion. Katsuki can see it all shoved together as he tries to hide his emotions from rising on his face but the damn nerd has always been expressive. He’s put his fork down, not that it was doing much- just pushing food on around his plate but, well. The silence, the stillness is telling.

“Yeah,” Katsuki admits, and he takes this as maybe a foot in, “I do. It’s a program for at-risk youth, helps prepare them for work, gives them life and study skills, and gets them out of remedial school.”

“Oh,” Izuku says, “huh.”

“Deku teaches preschool,” Shinsou explains.

“Oh,” Katsuki manages in turn.

“And you needed more people for pride, right?”

“I think we're good,” Todoroki says coolly.

“Actually,” Izuku buts in, “well we could use the help. And if you have that experience working with kids- what age?”

“Middle school.”

Izuku’s face falls lightly.

“Well, uhm that is a bit older but well, basically- I don’t know if you’ve gone to pride before but-”

“Deku I go to pride every year,” Katsuki cuts in, because really Deku has to know he’s queer. That had to have been obvious even when they were little kids even if neither of them had been out or necessarily knew what queer was at the time.

Deku blushes.

“Okay, well, um, there’s a family section the main pride weekend and the daycare and Pre-K I work at always runs a bunch of booths with crafts and activities. It’s basically a place for parents and families to relax a bit- more PG and kid friendly activities than what you might find at the rest of pride. But it can be kind of hard to find people to help run stuff because everyone who’s interested is already at pride and well they tend to help out for a few hours but we’re always short on assistance and-”

“Sure,” Katsuki says.

“What?” Deku asks.

Katsuki shrugs.

“I’d be what, just keeping an eye on them? Maybe helping out with crafts? Yeah I can do that for a day.”

He’d like to still have one of the days of pride to walk around and spend time with friends, but he doesn’t mind offering up some of his free time to help out with the festivities.

“You… can do that?” Deku asks, and the uncertain waver in his voice is telling. He doesn’t have an ounce of faith in Katsuki. Which is fair, Deku's entire history of him was of him being a bully to children. He wouldn’t trust himself either with just that history.

“Katsuki’s like, secretly really good with kids,” Denki adds in and Mina laughs.

“It’s actually really funny,” Mina pitches in, “he’s like- a cat! He’s all stiff and scary and ‘bad guy’ at first but he’s really a complete softy, especially with kids. You should see him talk about them. If you can nudge him just enough about his day you can get him to share what his kids have been up to and he’ll start talking about their progress and how proud he is-”

“Okay!” Katsuki interrupts, “That’s quite enough. I cooked, Mina, Denki, you're on dishes.”

“I can help too,” Shinsou volunteers.

“You helped me prep,” Katsuki defends, “And you didn’t throw me under the bus like they did.”

“I mean I kind of did for pride,” Shinsou points out.

Katsuki huffs, and ignores him. Pride doesn’t sound too bad. It might even be nice. He loves pride, he does, but it is overstimulating and the kiddy corner will probably be a bit calmer, but still the same environment. And it’s not like he can’t enjoy the rest of pride at all, just that he’d spend part of a day in the family fun center. Why not?

On the other hand, why did he jump on it so quickly?

Katsuki looks up, meets Deku’s eyes, and knows the answer.

He then meets Todoroki’s eyes, who’s been noticeably glaring at him the entire time and sighs. Whatever.

Dishes get cleared and because Katsuki’s not bussing or cleaning, he notices that Deku barely touched his food. He watches it float back into the kitchen as Shinsou, Todoroki, and Deku chat at the table and considers. When they begin to move to the living room, he confronts Deku.

“You didn’t eat,” he jumps straight in, “Do you want something else, or are you good?”

Deku jumps, clutching a heart to his chest and squeals lightly.

“Kacchan,” he squeaks, “you scared me.”

Katsuki doesn’t dignify that with a response, leaning on his crutches and waiting for a response.

Deku takes a breath, and then looks back at him.

“Uh, what?” he asks, “Sorry.”

“I noticed you didn’t eat,” Katsuki says, “do you want me to make you something else?”

Deku laughs- the laugh he always has around Katsuki, uncomfortable, uncertain, scared.

“No it’s okay, I’m fine,” he insists.

“Okay,” Katsuki allows, “your choice. But I could also just make some plain rice or steamed veggies.”

Deku hesitates lightly. Katsuki takes what he can get.

“Food shit’s annoying,” he acknowledges. He might not get it personally, but he doesn’t want to push. It’s not his business and he doesn’t need to know. All he wants to do is offer the support he can as the person feeding the group in front of him and then leave them the fuck alone.

“Yeah, it is,” Deku allows.

Katsuki nods.

“Um, are you sure?” Deku asks.

Katsuki nods again.

“Plain rice would be… great,” he admits.

“Alright,” Katsuki says, and brushes past him for the kitchen. He resolutely does not think about the fact that it’s the first civil conversation solely between the two of them that they’ve had in over a decade. He sets to making rice instead, falling into the easy few steps of washing the rice and setting up the rice cooker. It gives him an excuse to not join the crowd in the living room, so he uses it to his advantage, pulling one of the kitchen stools over and sitting down. He sets his crutches aside and waits for the rice to slowly cook.

He leans his head on the counter, cold stone cooling his head that's begun to ache lightly for whatever reason. He hums, and watches the rice.

Todoroki joins him a few minutes later, moving into the kitchen silently, but directly in Katsuki’s line of sight.

“If you hurt Deku again, I will ruin your entire life,” he snaps.

Katsuki lifts his head, sitting up on his stool.

Ah. So that’s how it is.

“Look, Todoroki-”

“Raika,” they snap, “You can call Shouto, Todoroki, or whoever else. But I’m Raika.”

Katsuki blinks.

“Right,” he allows, “Raika, I don’t know what Deku’s-”

“Don’t call him that,” Raika hisses, and Katsuki realizes he doesn’t know their pronouns. “Don’t you dare call him that. He is not worthless, he is not useless and you do not get to call him that.”

Katsuki winces because he hadn’t even considered the implications of the nickname. He had as a kid, certainly, that’s why he had made the nickname in the first place, but now… Well, it’s second nature to call Izuku, ‘Deku.’ He hasn’t thought about how hurtful it could possibly seem. Especially now- when Izuku’s certainly been free of the nickname for years- to suddenly be called ‘Deku’ again.

Shit. He hadn’t thought. After all, that’s what Bakugou Katsuki does best- doesn’t fucking think about how his actions could actually affect people.

“Alright,” Katsuki allows, “Well look- Izuku and I, our history is complicated. But I’m going to talk to him.”

“I don’t give a shit,” Raika expresses, “I don’t give a single shit about how complicated it is. What I care about is Izuku. And if you fucking hurt him…”

Katsuki narrows his eyes.

“Look-”

“Izuku never thought about jumping,” Raika says, and Katsuki’s heart goes cold, “He never- he- You told him to kill himself and he never even- it wasn’t something he even considered. He told me that he laughed about it afterwards, laughed. But if that was any other kid… If that was us, if that was you… Would you have laughed, Bakugou? Or would you have jumped?”

Katsuki’s frozen and his mind replies that moment back in his head, the lowest point he had dropped to, to when he had actively suicide-baited another child. At the time it had seemed like a joke and Deku didn’t do it, obviously, but those words have impact. They are never okay, and he knows that.

“You got lucky,” Raika concludes, “You got lucky because Izuku had a mom that loved him and that even with your school yard bullying he felt safe and okay. You got lucky that Izuku didn’t even think about it. But that’s all you got. Lucky.”

Raika has a point, and he knows it. Nonetheless, Katsuki doesn’t feel lucky.

“I don’t care about your reasoning. I’m sorry if your daddy hit you or your mom walked out. I’m sorry if it was internalized ableism or some other mental health issue. But that doesn’t give you the right. You were a kid, and that’s the only reason I’m not stepping in sooner. You’re both adults now. Izuku can make his own decisions about who he talks to, and there’s a chance you’ve changed, you’ve grown.

“But don’t think for a second, Bakugou Katsuki, that I won’t be watching every move you make.” Raika stops then, glaring at him intensely.

Katsuki, frankly, doesn’t know what to say. He refuses to justify his behavior, because Raika is right. He did hurt Iuku and no matter why he did it, it wasn’t justified. Deku deserves an apology, and Katsuki knows he needs to apologize. He will. Once he figures out how.

For now, a peace offering.

“I’m making rice,” he says, “for Izuku. Because he didn’t eat dinner. You can… sit with me if you like.”

Raika stares at him, then moves to put their hands on the counter before lifting themself up and onto it, still glaring at Katsuki.

“Absolutely no,t” Katsuki denies, “get the fuck off my counter. Grab a stool.”

Raika, grumbles, but hops off, and rejoins him with a stool. Together, they watch the rice.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Raika offers, once they’ve settled.

Katsuki snorts. From threats to friendly greetings.

“You too, more or less,” Katsuki agrees.

Raika shrugs and nods.

“More or less sounds good.”

“So what, are you like Izuku’s partner?” Katsuki asks.

Raika blushes fiercely.

“No,” they insist.

Katsuki snorts, because if that isn’t a fucking obvious give away.

“I don’t know much about dissociative systems,” Katsuki admits, “Can I-”

“Ask.”

“Alright. So you’re not dating him, but you’ve got a crush. Does that mean everyone… or?”

“What, you got the hots for Izuku, Katsuki?” Raika scoffs.

Katsuki scowls, “You said I could ask.”

“No,” Raika admits, “It depends. Um.. a couple of us think… similarly about Izuku. But most of us, no.”

“Huh,” Katsuki acknowledges.

“We’re a smaller system,” Raika explains, “less than ten of us. I don’t know how much you know about dissociative disorders.”

“Not a lot,” Katsuki admits, “I mean- beyond what gets shoved onto my ‘or-you-page because I’m disabled and neurodivergent. I did do a short search separately. It’s… DID, right?”

“There’s a few different types,” Raika begins, “But we have DID, yeah.”

“Okay,” Katsuki says, “And you’re an alter?”

“Yup.”

“Pronouns?”

“She/he.”

“And gay for Izuku, got it.”

“Shut up,” Raika hisses, but it’s not nearly as rough and defensive as it was when he was ranting at Katsuki earlier. There’s something even possibly friendly about it, and Katsuki’s not quite sure how she’s managed that.

“Fine, I’ll drop it,” Katsuki snickers.

They sit like that for a while more, watching the rice cook as Raika lets him ask him questions about DID and multiplicity. He gets a bit more of an understanding of their system, which will be probably useful information considering it seems like their system will be sticking around with Shinsou living here and Katsuki trying to mend things with Izuku. He finds he doesn’t mind the idea.

Chapter Text

“Takei, Okano,” Eijiro snaps, “Absolutely not.”

Katsuki whips his head up from where he was seated with a few of the kids going over some math homework, instantly spotting the problem that Ejiro has referenced.

Takei and Okano- two of the kids placed in their group due to behavioral problems they’re working on finding the root of- have taken a third kid- Miyata’s- stuffed dog. The stuffed dog that is Miyata’s comfort item. Miyata’s immediately in tears and begins to scream, headed straight into a meltdown. The two other kids snicker and Kirishima quickly comes between them, separating the two from the victim and making them follow him outside.

Katsuki steps in, and Hanta isn’t far behind, near enough to offer support if need be. Miyata’s a pretty good kid, but when he has meltdowns and his boundaries aren’t respected, he has been known to lash out physically. Katsuki can’t really blame him. He knows from autistic friends how intense meltdowns can feel, and he’d be pissed off if his boundaries weren’t respected when he was having one.

“Hey Miyata,” Katsuki says calmly, “Tough break, huh?”

The kid ignores him, tearing at hair and screaming. Katsuki hums sympathetically.

“I’m going to have Hanta go with Eijiro and get Matcha back, okay? In the meantime, what can I do for you?”

Miyata isn’t responsive, instead rocking back and forth and tugging at his hair. But his screams do reduce, which is helpful on Katsuki’s side at least. That said, he’d like to reduce the hair pulling as well, he doesn’t want the kid to hurt himself.

“Alright kid, let’s see what we got in the sensory bin.”

He waves Hanta off to get the dog back and rolls away from Miyata for a moment to go to a corner of their room that has a bunch of stim stuff. He finds some of the monkey noodles that he personally absolutely hates but the middle schoolers he works with seem to be obsessed with, and he grabs a handful of them to bring back to Miyata.

Quite a few kids watch him and continue to stare at Miyata, but behavioral problems, meltdowns, fights, and disruptions of different kinds aren’t out of place in their program and enough of them go back to what they were doing before when Katsuki gives them a stern look. They might not all be doing what they’re technically supposed to be doing, but they’re not participating in escalating the situation and small wins are the world when it comes to kids that have been underserved and under supported for much too long.

“Monkey noodles,” Katsuki announces, dropping them next to Miyata. He’s not sure if the kid will go for them- if he’s listening at all- but he’s not about to touch an autistic student having a meltdown unless he has to, or if he knows touch will help them. Miyata is touch adverse, and while he is still pulling out his hair it hasn’t bordered into dangerous self harm territory yet, so he gives the kid space.

Miyata’s used to this routine, so he grabs the noodles, hands twisting and tearing them up as he sobs and shakes. Katsuki sits with him in solidarity, and glances around once in a while to make sure the other kids aren’t snooping too much. Thankfully, it's not a problem.

Hanta returns with Matcha soon enough and Miyata gasps before grabbing the dog quickly, hugging it close and pressing worn fabric into his face, nuzzling into it. Katsuki releases a breath and gives a nod to Hanta. He backs up a little, gives Miyata some more space as he self-soothes with his comfort item and turns to Hanta.

“Eijiro’s talking to them,” Hanta confirms, “Okano’s dad stopped by last night.”

“Fuck,” Katsuki swears, because whenever Okano’s dad shows back up all the kid’s hard earned progress back slides over night and when he leaves again they have to build it right back up from the start. It’s definitely an explanation for the grabbing of Miyata’s comfort item- something the boy had stopped doing weeks ago.

Takei is a common accomplice- Okano’s cousin who’s currently staying with them while his mom goes through rehab. Katsuki worries about how Okano’s father’s return will affect them both.

Katsuki rubs at his face.

“His mom works late today,” Katsuki recognizes, “so the boys bus home. I’ll call her tomorrow, see if we can figure this out with him.”

“She needs to kick him out,” Hanta insists, speaking on Okano’s father, and Kasuki privately agrees, but they both know it’s not that easy. After all there’s a reason these kids are in this program and family settings are complex scenarios. Katsuki saw it play out in his own home. Kicking out someone you’re married to isn't easy, emotionally, physically, or mentally. It tends to be particularly tricky financially as well. It’s not Okano’s mothers fault.

It just sucks because Okano’s the one they’re supposed to be helping but they can’t do anything to change the situation at home, just manage the behavior in class.

A little while later, Eijiro comes back into the room, Okano and Takei trailing behind him. He joins the two of them, shooting a quick glance to check on Miyata who’s calm, except the occasional sniffle. The three of them watch as Okano and Takei return to their seats, glaring the entire time at Miyata, but don’t interrupt or otherwise bother him.

“Hey,” Eijiro says.

Katsuki nods, and watches the two who’ve just returned. Okano looks at him, glaring and tilting his head. He smirks at Katsuki and flicks his gaze back to Miyata. Katsuki just raises a brow in turn, and Okano huffs before going back to his Pokemon book. He’s not supposed to be reading the Pokémon book because it’s not at his ‘academic level’ but it’s also not picking on his classmates and that’s fine by Katsuki. He can have his Pokémon book. That’s not a battle they need to have.

Hanta and Eijiro are talking. Katsuki has to actively pay attention with the background noise in the room.

“Hmm?” he says, turning back to the two of them.

“I talked to them, Okano shared that - dad’s back,” Eijiro fills in, “I - why he took Miyata’s dog. - shrugged, said he wanted to.”

Katsuki sighs.

“I’ll talk to his mom,” he promises.

“We looked at Pokemon cards,” Eijiro continues, “We talked about what he’s working towards and - he can’t have - own items at school- like earning Pokémon cards- if he can’t be safe with other people’s items at school.”

Katsuki nods. It’s a tactic that usually works, but…

“His dad’s back,” Hanta points out.

“I know,” Eijiro sighs.

It sucks seeing kids make so much progress with them and then going home where their parents and guardians either can’t provide the same support or refuse to provide the same support. Katsuki sighs. This is the part he hates about his job.

“You two are coming over later,” Katsuki grumbles, “I need a drink after today.”

“God please,” Hanta says, “I need to get high. It’s been a bad pain, low spoons today. I’ve been so dizzy.”

Katsuki hums in agreement and Katsuki shoots them the incredulous, concerned looks that they usually get from him. The looks that translate to ‘god your guy’s bodies just do not work right, do they?’

“Maybe I’ll join you,” Katsuki admits, “Actually take my meds for once and join the smokers.”

“I don’t even smoke.”

“Mina would kill you,” Eijiro agrees.

“I would kill you,” Katsuki grumbles.

They go back to work after that. They do actually have cats- er children- to herd.

Eijiro and Hanta don’t actually end up coming over that evening, but Hanta does give him some gummies to take when he gets home. They all have work tomorrow and Katsuki’s planning to go to gym in the morning, so he wants to write out details to talk to Okano’s mom before bed. Which means no time to hang out with friends.

He gets that done quickly at home, gently shakes Mina who fell asleep on the couch to urge her to her room, and then heads to his own room to sleep.

The next morning he meets Eijiro at the gym, and for the first time Shinsou joins them. Katsuki had been surprised when he had asked if Katsuki was interested in working out together, but was more than happy to agree. Gym buddies were a necessity for safety, especially when Katsuki was prone to subluxations and dislocations. It was hard to find people Katsuki was willing to work out, both personality and ethics wise but also people he felt safe around.

He needed people who would push him, but in reasonable ways that wouldn’t push him into injuries. He needed people who understood his diagnosis and what that meant for exercise. Katsuki couldn’t say for sure without having Shinsou work out with them first, but he thought Shinsou might fit that bill. Eijiro was just excited for another friend.

They stretched together, Eijiro grumbling the entire time when Katsuki would press his hands flat on the ground or do other feats of hypermobility and then the grumbles would turn to chiding when he saw the flexibility turn to hyperextension. From there they separated somewhat for free weights and Katsuki did light strength training. Being a part time wheelchair user kept his arms in decent shape as is, but one form of movement is just that- one form of movement. Light weight training ensured he kept the strength to perform functional tasks and hobbies he enjoyed. Plus, he always liked working out, the endorphins, the feeling of productivity.

There had been a time in his life when exercise, sports, success was everything. Now, working out is a hobby, a way to stay fit because he likes the feeling of it, and it’s a way to keep up with PT in a way he enjoys. Working out isn’t for everyone and there’s aspects of it that he can’t engage in, but the system he has figured out is one he enjoys.

A while later, Eijiro says his goodbyes, and Katsuki and Shinsou split to head home together. True to his expectations, Shinsou was a good gym partner and Katsuki wouldn’t mind having him join again.

He showers when he gets home, and makes some lunch, prepping for his work shift later in the day. He then scrolls through his phone, does some replying to emails and reads a few disability blogs he follows before a notification catches his attention. It disappears before he reads it all, but he catches the name the text was sent from.

Bakugou Mitsuki.

Fuck.

Gritting his teeth, Katsuki sighs, closes the page he’s currently reading, and goes to his textingc app.

He doesn’t bother opening the full text. The preview is enough.

Bakugou Mitsuki
> How is PT?? Are you making progress in not needing your wh-

Before he could close the app, a new text preview appeared.

Bakugou Mitsuki
> I miss you sweetie, Dad does too. You should come visit soon-

And again.

Bakugou Mitsuki
> I know your stubborn, you got that from me, but I need you to try-

Katsuki turns off his phone, and stands from his desk with a groan. His knee clicks and his ankle burns with pain. He grits his teeth and stumbles out of his room, flopping on the couch instead. He still has some time before work, might as well check what was on TV.

The next day he has off so he pulls up the contact he had gotten from Shinsou to talk to Deku about the pride event and gathers the courage to send a fucking message. He types for much too long, erasing and rewriting. Eventually he settles on ‘Hey, it’s Bakugou Katsuki,’ and leaves it at that.

Then with that dealt with, he gathers a small bag and grabs his wheelchair, knocking at Mina’s door as he prepares to go out.

“Hey,” he speaks as she opens the door, “Two things, I’m going to the bookstore if you want to join, and can I wear your black jacket.”

Mina stares at him.

“You have your own jackets.”

“Yeah but yours goes good with this shirt,” he whines. It’s his favorite shirt, a faded red with ‘Crip Riot’ displayed across it in large letters and he wears it whenever he has a day off because it’s not a shirt he’s allowed to wear to work. It’s also the reason he constantly demands to borrow the black trucker jacket Mina owns, which Mina should know by now.

MIna rolls her eyes, but nods fondly, stepping away from her door to let him push through and root through her closet. As much as she pretends to be annoyed, Katsuki knows she doesn’t mind. In fact, when they had first moved in together, Mina had been ecstatic to find that they were the relative same size when it came to clothes and the two of them shared articles quite often- at least with the items of their wardrobes that tended to overlap, which was mainly the spectrum of white to black.

“I’ll join,” she confirms, and she quickly scrambles to get her own stuff ready. Katsuki moves to her closet and grabs the jacket he had in mind and while he’s there, also grabs the go-bag for Mina’s epipens, medications, and other emergency relief aids. Every time he sees the bag, Katsuki’s delighted to note that she still uses the ‘fuck cancer’ bag he had gotten for her years ago.

Mina’s been in remission for more than half of her life now, but most people don’t realize the complications that can come from surviving cancer as a kid and the effects of chemo long term. In Mina’s case it’s a shit immune system, joints that ache, excessive allergies, and various other health concerns. Going out is often a chore and Mina had shared more than once about how isolating it had been as a teen, when she was finally healthy enough to go out and do things but no one wanted to deal with everything that came with her going out.

Katsuki relates. So many able bodied people don’t understand just how hard simply leaving the house can be when you’re disabled.

“Ready?” Katsuki confirms when Mina has her own bag, shoving the smaller go-bag into it.

She nods, and Katsuki offers his own hand for her bag. She grins and hands it over and Katsuki slings it over the back of his chair.

“My personal bag carrier,” Mina crows, “why thank you.”

They stop by the door long enough for Mina to grab shoes and her cane and for them to not forget their keys like Denki already does, and then they head to the bookstore.

Katsuki has elected to bring Mina on this journey because he needs to get books for his kids. Their school’s library is solely lacking in diverse rep and Katsuki’s been working on slowly filling it with some more anarchist-based texts. But, he tends to get carried away and as much as he believes in ‘fuck the system’ he does have to pay his bills, so Mina helps reign in how far punk he leans so he doesn’t get fired.

Plus, she makes for a good coffee companion.

Unfortunately, the place they choose to get coffee is not a winner. It’s actually a place he hasn’t gone before, but Mina’s always good at finding new places so Katsuki’s not terribly surprised. What Katsuki is terribly surprised by is the fact that when the person who takes their orders comes out from behind the counter to point out where they have accessible seating in the far corner, she grabs Katsuki’s chair and pushes.

She yelps at the same time Katsuki snarls, and jerks away from the chair.

“Ow!” she protests as she lets go and Katsuki grabs his pushrims and turns to face her, putting his body between her and his chair. Mina takes a step forward and towards Katsuki, frown etched on her usually friendly face.

“Don’t touch a wheelchair user's chair,” he snarls, “my chair is an extension of my body. You don’t touch people, or their mobility devices, without their permission.”

She looks at him with wide eyes, biting her lips as she holds her hands together gently, small red marks on her palms. Katsuki knows she’s fine, he’s tested the grips he’s made to make sure the points don’t actually break skin, just make an unpleasant, pokey experience.

“I, sorry,” she stumbles, “I was just trying to help. I didn’t know! But you shouldn’t have spikes! You could have - told me.”

Katsuki raises an unimpressed brow.

“I shouldn’t have to tell you,” he says coolly, and then rolls right out, Mina following at his side.

“Jesus,” Mina laughs, the minute they get outside, “I forget that you don’t hold back. Where were you when I - a kid?”

“Bullying kids like you,” Katsuki admits.

Mina laughs again.

“You’re an asshole Katsuki,” she says, but it’s fond, loving even. Katsuki rolls his eyes and his lip twitches upward. Mina continues to keep things light and that’s what allows Katsuki to relax as the beating of his heart slows down, the jolt of being unexpectedly manhandled calms. It sucks every time when people grab him. It never fails to startle him, catch him unaware and send his heart pounding. But there’s shit like that he can’t change, just choose how he reacts to it, so he adds spikes to his chair, snaps back with zero mercy, and lets Mina distract him. He doesn’t have time for ableist people, he has some damn books to get the kids he works with.

Mina stops him from getting some of the more… anarchist texts he considers grabbing but that is why he brought her and he’s paying for these books from his own budget, so… He does intentionally grab a Pokémon book that he’s certain Okano doesn’t have as a potential incentive for the shit show with his dad coming home.

When they get home, Mina bounds over to Denki and Shinsou who are hanging on the couch, chatting excitedly about their outing and asking them about their own days. Katsuki gives a nod, and disappears to his own room. He puts the books by his work bag and then pulls out his phone, planning to scroll through social media, but is stopped by a new string of texts.

Thankfully, this time they aren’t from his mom, but Deku.

Midoriya Izuku
> Hey Kacchan! So here’s the details on the event.

He sends a flyer with an image description below it and Katsuki scans the activities they have going on. Bracelet making, tie-dye, various games and coloring.

Midoriya Izuku
> Any chance you know how to make friendship bracelets?

Katsuki snorts, and replies with a firm, ‘no.’

Midoriya Izuku
> Okay no worries!! You’ll probably just chill with me at one of the pop ups where we have coloring and activities then.
> Does that sound okay?
> Oh and if there’s any accommodations you need/ anything I need to know, just lmk!

Bakugou Katsuki
> That’s fine.
> I’ll be using my wheelchair and I can’t do any heavy lifting/set up

Deku hasn’t mentioned anything about him being needed for set up but events like this end up needing last minute things and Deku needs to know that he- for the most part- can’t do that.

Midoriya Izuku
> Okay got it!
> Pride in general should be wheelchair accessible, and I’ve mentioned it as well, but well… yknow

Katsuki does know. Plans for events to be wheelchair accessible doesn’t mean they will be and the crowds won’t be nearly so accommodating. Katsuki’s used to it, he’s been to pride before and they’re decent but they’re certainly not perfect. They should be better. Either way, he’ll make do.

Midoriya sends a few thoughts about times and days and Katsuki confirms and then Midoriya’s sending him stupid little smiley faces and other emojis. Katsuki scowls at them, and tucks his phone away.

But then it buzzes again, and he inevitably pulls it out of his pocket.

Midoriya Izuku
> Do you want to catch up before the event?
> We could get coffee or something?
> It’s been a long time.

Katsuki thumbs over the messages, fingers stilling on the screen, and hesitates.

It's the perfect opportunity. Here’s his opening to take accountability, apologize, and let Izuku either accept his words or not. Katsuki needs to get it done and over with. He should say yes, meet up with Izuku. He’s been trying to figure out how to do this, and here’s his chance.

But something in him freezes, grips his lungs and squeezes. Katsuki breathes harshly through the anxiety, squeezes his eyes tightly, and turns his phone off. He reopens his eyes and slides his phone back into his pocket. He’ll answer the text later. He’ll figure out what he wants to do later.

For now, he staggers to his feet, grabs his cane and stumbles out of his room. His roommates are still gathered in the living room, watching some animated show on the TV and he goes over, taking his seat in the far right empty chair- the one everyone knows is his.

Shinsou gives him a nod, and Mina smiles.

“Hey,” Katsuki says gruffly.

“Hi,” Shinsou acknowledges. He doesn’t get anything from Mina, but they had just seen each other a few minutes ago so it’s not strange. But Denki’s inactive, which is more unusual.

“What’d you do today Denki?” Katsuki asks, flipping his gaze over to him. Denki stares blankly ahead, blinking a few times, lips smacking. Well that would do it.

“He’s been having small seizures all day,” Shinsou answers for him. “Mostly absent seizures.”

Katsuki nods his understanding, and turns his attention to the show. He needs something to dull his brain, and from the looks of it, this will do just that.

“Hhhu,” Denki says after a second and Katsuki lets his gaze slide back over to him.

“Oh um, hey Kats,” Denki acknowledges, “You were with… Mina today, right?”

“Yup,” he agrees, “What’d you get up to?”

Denki hums and Katsuki can practically see the brain fog hanging over him.

“Uhhhh not much. Hitoshi and I went out. To the beach.”

“Nice,” Katsuki confirms. He switches gear, “What do you want for dinner?”

Denki blinks. Once. Twice.

“What?”

“What do you want for dinner?”

“I get to pick?” he asks.

“Why not,” Katsuki offers, “Heard you’ve had a bad seizure day.” Denki groans in confirmation, rubbing his skull with his hand. Even if the small ones aren’t as physically exhausting, Katsuki knows the fatigue and brain fog stick with him as he goes through them again and again. They’re still better than big ones, which come with physical and mental exhaustion, but well, this is the shitty side of disability.

At least Denki’s smiling about getting to choose dinner. Katsuki can’t do much, but he can do this.

“And who says you’re not a softie at heart,” Denki teases, and Katsuki doesn’t care about how much brain fog he has, he softly throws a pillow at Denki anyways.

“Oof,” Denki says, comically a few seconds after it lightly whacks him in the chest. He then grabs the pillow and turns, placing it in Mina’s lap so he can lay down sideways. Shinsou chuckles from his place on the other armchair, and he puts out a few food ideas that are Denki’s favorites. Denki grumbles something back that Katsuki can’t quite get, and Mina repeats it back verbally for him.

Katsuki nods. American fries and wings it is then. He should get cooking. His phone sits heavy in his pocket.

Chapter Text

He does end up meeting with Izuku before the pride event, only because he feels awkward ghosting him and he thinks about how even more awkward it would be to actually get to the event without having a sit-down. The event is hours long. Katsuki can’t do that.

Plus, maybe he had told Eijiro and Hanta about the text and they had pestered and bugged him about it until he caved and answered. But it was mostly a response crafted of his own free will. Mostly. Totally.

He lets Deku- no, Izuku, he reminds himself, choose the place and only frowns slightly when he chooses a popular cafe chain but grabs his crutches anyways, and heads out. It’s between them, so Katsuki takes the trains and pretends he doesn’t notice the stares he gets for being visibly disabled in public. It’s not a horribly long ride, but it’s not one of the buses he usually catches in his neighborhood so there is a distinct lack of familiar faces and an uptick of stares he gets.

“Mommy,” says a little girl, “That boy has red spikes on his crutches. They’re so cool.”

“Tari, don’t stare. It’s rude,” her mom scolds, pulling her hand and tearing her gaze away from him. She then smiles apologetically at Katsuki as if her child’s behavior needs apologizing for. Which to be clear- it doesn’t. Katsuki isn’t here to educate, but he doesn’t mind kids and the girl’s question wasn’t even about what was ‘wrong’ with him, it was just pure excitement of the decoration on his crutches.

He stares straight back at the mom.

“Thanks kid, my friend helped me with them.”

The girl gasps, delighted, and turns to fully face him.

“You did them yourself?” she asks. Her hair bounces as she kicks her feet under her, staring up at him with wide, awed eyes.

“Yup,” he confirms.

“Wow,” she says, “My friend broke his leg and he had crutches but he didn’t get to decorate them, but I did get to sign his cast! And his crutches didn’t look like yours. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t decorate them. Are yours for decorating?”

Kids are so cool like that. They make predictions and conclusions based on past evidence and reasoning and she hasn’t quite hit the mark but Katsuki’s still amazed that kids have the ability to even do that. Katsuki certainly wasn’t that smart as a kid.

“Kind of,” he says, “mine are custom, because I use them all the time, so I need ones that fit me better.”

“Tari,” her mother warns, and Katsuki resolutely ignores her.

“Oh,” she says nodding, and then asks the question, “Why do you need them all the time?”

Katsuki knew he was going to get the question, and this time he doesn’t mind. He could have led her away from it, but he had chosen not to. He has the spoons to explain and to be totally honest- he loves when kids think his mobility aids look cool instead of scary. Plus, he gets to piss off an ableist ‘I’m not ableist’ person which is always a win in Katsuki’s book.

Sure the mom has barely said a word but Katsuki can tell by her looks that she’s the type of person who thinks ignoring disabled people completely is the solution. She doesn’t want her daughter asking questions, which avoids the rude ones but also prevents learning. It’s better than the staring, but it’s still awkward and it still doesn’t help support disabled people. Can’t he just exist in the same space without judgment?

“I’m disabled,” he explains, because he never gives out his diagnosis to strangers straight up unless he has to. He keeps some things for himself. “And it’s hard for me to walk, so I have crutches, a cane, and sometimes a wheelchair.”

She nods more fully then, and then turns to her mom.

“Mommy, do you see how cool his crutches are?”

“I see honey,” her mom acknowledges, “But let’s stop bothering him now, okay? It’s not nice to stare.”

“I wasn’t staring,” the girl frowns, “I was just looking. It’s different.”

The girl has a point. She had just been looking, the same as Katsuki might notice someone’s backpack or sweater.

“It’s fine,” Katsuki challenges with a smirk, “I don’t mind.”

The conversation dies anyway, and the girl and her mother get off at the next step. Katsuki’s is the one right after.

He memorizes the directions at the station, because holding his phone and looking at directions while using his crutches is a recipe for a disaster, and then travels the block and a half to where Izuku has already texted he’s waiting.

Waiting is the perfect way to describe him, because he’s sitting on a bench outside, feet tapping on the ground, clutching his phone and looking up and around every direction, before looking down at his phone again. Katsuki smirks, thinking about sneaking up on him, but that would kind of be an asshole move plus his crutches don’t exactly make him the quickest person and Izuku’s already looking up, making eye contact with Katsuki. He waves as he stands, and Katsuki nods back, and then he waits awkwardly as Katsuki makes the rest of the way to his side.

“Hi,” Izuku says.

“Hey,” Katsuki says.

They stand for a moment, which really is a bitch and his knees protest. But Izuku moves into gear soon enough, fumbling with his phone and stumbling over his words.

“Oh, uh, I guess we can go inside now, here, uh-”

He turns around and enters the shop, holding the door on his way in for Katsuki who brushes past him.

“You come here often?” Katsuki asks, as he looks up at the menu, “What’s good?”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Izuku says, “I- well I usually just get tea. I can’t have caffeine. Or coffee. But uh, Shouto really likes the s’mores drink? Oh and Haiiro likes their scones.”

“Haiiro?” Katsuki asks, finding the s’mores latte on the menu and looking through their other options.

“Oh, right, I don’t think you’ve met? Haiiro’s an alter in Todoroki’s system. They uh- a lot of dissociative systems have names? But Shouto says he’s not very good at naming things so we kinda just refer to them as ‘Todoroki’s system’ and stuff.”

“Alright,” Katsuki says, and moves forward to order.

Izuku follows him, and then they make their way to a table in the corner. Katsuki winces as he sits, hips protesting. As always, everything hurts. Unfortunately, it seems to be hitting a little more than normal. Katsuki briefly thinks about taking pain meds, but he doesn’t want to if the pain recedes on its own so he decides to wait it out for now.

Izuku sits across from him, fingers drumming on the table. Katsuki watches him stim, wonders if it’s from anxiety, casual stimming, or something else. Katsuki wonders if he’s the reason izuku’s stimming, if he’s causing him anxiety and stress.

This is it. This is the moment. The only thing Katsuki needs to do is open his mouth and say he’s sorry, and the rest will follow.

“So,” he says, clearing his throat, “Preschool, huh?”

Dammit! This was not the plan.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Izuku says, “Yeah I- well at first I thought about nursing like my mom but… gosh the schooling for it is so much.”

“Yeah,” Katsuki agrees with a chuckle, “I almost failed out of my first semester of university.”

Izuku cracks a smile, and Katsuki has seen millions of smiles from Izuku, but there’s something slightly different about this. It’s not as big, not as wide, slightly shy. But it’s also true- genuine- if the way Izuku lightly bites his lip as if to hide it says anything.

There’s a lull then, filled only when one of the servers sets the drinks down at the table. Katsuki thanks them and sips the coffee to give himself time to think and Izuku sips his own tea.

“It’s been a long time,” Izuku eventually notes.

“Yeah,” Katsuki agrees, and there it is, another opening.

“I didn’t really expect you to be working with kids,” Izuku offers.

“What, I don’t seem like the childcare type?” Katsuki snarks with a smirk, because yeah that’s what everyone who’s ever met him has said about him. He gets it, he’s not exactly a soft sweet guy. He knows he doesn’t seem well suited for working with kids, especially the group of kids he works with. People expect someone sweet, someone soft, someone who’s oh so encouraging and hands out stickers and sweets.

Katsuki is not that. He has a wardrobe of clothing that only half can be worn to work because the other half include words like ‘crip,’ ‘fuck,’ or other inappropriate words for school. He swears like a sailor and doesn’t mind if kids cuss as well. He’s visibly disabled and he doesn’t smile. His mobility aids have spikes and he doesn’t let the kids walk all over him. He hasn’t carried stickers once in his goddamn life.

He’s not what people think of when they think of those that work with children.

Izuku stutters, doing his best to find his footing and explain that wasn’t what he’s meant even though Katsuki knows it definitely was, and it’s completely fair.

“Nah, it’s okay,” he promises, “I know I don’t seem the type. Eijiro- my friend- he helped me get the job and I’ve been happy there, so… Kids aren’t too bad. I’d hate to be with the ones you’re with that spit up all over you, so…”

“Well I have plenty of experience with throw up,” Izuku jokes, eyes lighting up, mischievous grin and Katsuki finds a startled laugh bubbling past his lips.

“Yeah,” he admits, “I remember.”

Because recess was filled with Izuku throwing up his lunch in the school toilets. Katsuki would wait outside, and when he’d step out he’d knock him to his knees and laugh at the kid for puking his guts out. He thought it was anxiety at the time or- or- something else. He didn’t get it, didn’t realize how bad it was that Izuku was throwing up nearly every day.

Izuku seems to remember as well, and the light leaves his eyes. He chuckles- the goddamn uneasy one, just when Katsuki was getting him to lighten up- and deflates slightly. He sips his tea.

Katsuki yells at himself internally because he should be apologizing, not just bringing up past events as if there’s some sort of shared connection there. There’s nothing to connect over Katsuki bullying Izuku. He knows that. He just… hadn’t thought.

But it seems weird to apologize now. Izuku looks upset and he doesn’t want to push it and he also doesn't want Izuku to think he’s doing it just because he feels like he has to. Katsuki wants it to be authentic, to feel real. Izuku deserves that.

So they drink their beverages and a slightly awkward cloud hangs over them, but they get through small talk anyways. Izuku waves him goodbye and says he’ll see him next week. Katsuki nods and mentally prepares for spending pride with Izuku, and then heads back to the bus. This time there are no little girls who compliment his crutches, but there is an old lady who glares at him when he sits in the disabled seating section. Katsuki glares back, and when she shakes her head at him, Katsuki flips her off. Fuck respecting his elders, where’s his goddamn respect? She gasps at the action, and Katsuki turns away.

The rest of the day fucking sucks. Work is a nightmare and Hanta’s in the middle of a flare up and the person who’s entire job is supposed to cover Katsuki and Hanta’s asses when they can't come in talks on her phone the entire time instead of actually helping. Katsuki can’t even go back to Eijiro and Hanta’s place after work to check in on Hanta and maybe make them some food because he dislocates his goddamn shoulder and has to go home a good thirty minutes early because of the pain. And then on his way home to deal with his shoulder, his ankle subluxes as well because he’s putting more weight on his feet because his shoulder hurts too much to use his crutches properly. He wants to cry or maybe scream but neither of those would help with the pain- just make it worse- and now he has a headache.

“You look like shit,” Mina tells him the minute he steps through the door and Katsuki snaps at her, not quite even knowing exactly what he says before he stumbles to his room and slams the door shut. He rips his hearing aids out, leaving them on the desk in hopes that’ll help with his pounding head and lays on his bed.

But he can’t even fall asleep because he has to check on his shoulder and set his ankle and put his braces on so his joints and bones and ligaments stay where they’re fucking supposed to and then worst of all, someone opens his goddamn door.

“What?” he snarls, glaring at Mina.

She holds up ice and pain meds.

“Goddamn mind reader,” he huffs, and slowly, painfully, awfully sits up.

“You were - - - -,” she says and Katsuki blinks.

“Hah?” he asks, and Mina’s gaze finds his aids on his desk. She sets the meds and ice on his bedside table.

“YOU ARM-” her hands freeze, wavering uncertainty in the air as she comes across a word she obviously doesn’t know. Instead she mimes it, hitching her arm up slightly, and pulling it in, replicating the way Katsuki had walked into the apartment, protectively holding the limb close to his body.

“Dislocated it,” he admits, “and then subluxed my ankle on my way home as well.”

Mina nods, and grabs his water bottle from his bag, putting that on the table as well. She opens the meds next, looks at him and shakes out two when he holds up fingers. He takes the offered painkillers and she moves to his ankle, asking permission in sign and Katsuki nods, letting her help guide it back into place. She helps him put his braces on and then runs her fingers through his hair, before leaving him in his room.

Katsuki closes his eyes at the touch, and remembers when his mother used to do the same. Back when injuries were still a rarity, something he got showered with affection over, and not just another thing to deal with, another thing that made him weak, useless. He’s glad Mina leaves when she does, because he thinks if she were here that might be the tipping point and he’d start crying.

As it is, he holds the tears in and convinces himself the building pressure in his head is just from exhaustion.

He goes to bed early that night.

The week left until Pride flies by, surprisingly. His shoulder aches and he sticks to his chair for the time being but he pushes through because he kind of fucking has to. He needs to work to pay his bills and he wants to be reliable for his kids and if he was out every goddamn time he got injured he’d never go to work.

At least by the time Pride comes around the aching has ceased.

The first day is pure fun, because he’s not volunteering until the second. He lets Mina put streamers on the back of his chair and lights on his spokes. Mina dresses herself head to toe in aro and ace pride colors which clash horribly with her pink hair but that makes it all the more wonderful.

Eijiro doesn’t wear a shirt and Mina helps him put body pain under his top surgery scars while Katsuki begs him to remember sunscreen unlike last year. Denki tries to get Shinsou to dress up beyond some emo band shirt that Shinsou says is ‘pretty much gay pride anyways’ and Hanta somehow writes ‘I suck dick’ on Denki’s forehead in a sharpie without him knowing. Katsuki throws on one of the two pride shirts he owns, and calls it a day.

They bring money, and meds, and water and by hour two they’re all exhausted but alive. They’ve planned the day with plenty of rest breaks and alcohol breaks and bathroom breaks. Even though Katsuki sees Mina physically shaking with exhaustion as she flops onto a grassy patch during one of their breaks, she pants with giddy glee and Katsuki can’t help but laugh along with her.

The hardest part is keeping Shinsou upright because Pride is nothing if not an upheaval of emotions so they plan most of their breaks around the frequent cataplexy spells he has, taking the time to rest, take a breath, and calm down. Katsuki can see Shinsou getting frustrated about it at one point, after they have to take a break maybe ten minutes after the most recent one when he can’t stay steady on his feet, but Denki talks to him in a low hushed voice and peppers kisses across his face that do have him fully falling over but at least looking not quite as frustrated when he can move again.

The second day, Katsuki helps by volunteering in the family area.

It’s weird getting to Pride before it starts and they have to open a shady side entrance for him because the entrance most of the volunteers for various booths and activities come through isn’t wheelchair accessible. It means Katsuki has to travel around almost the entire event just to get where he’s trying to go, and he hates that he’s used to diversions like this.

Deku- Izuku’s already there, as is a wave of other volunteers and Katsuki checks in with a few people who are much more officially sounding and speaking then Izuku is and then he’s eventually allowed to go over to one of the shaded pop-ups where Izuku is already spreading out paper and coloring pages and crayons.

Katsuki hesitates for a second, waiting for the awkwardness to reappear back between them when he shows his face but as Katsuki rolls up Izuku just grins at him cheerfully.

“Happy Pride, Kacchan,” he greets. One cheek has rainbow stripes and the tape on his feeding tube on the other is rainbow as well. The rest of him is similarly decked out. His shirt is from his preschool with a tied rainbow flag over his back. Somehow, he’d even managed to find the most atrocious pair of rainbow shorts, wearing them proudly with rainbow socks underneath his running shoes to boot. It’s a horrible outfit, and something that fits right in for Pride.

Katsuki had worn his second pride shirt today and clipped on a pronouns pin. The streamers had torn off his chair the day before, but the spokes still have lights.

He doesn’t do Pride like Izuku, like Mina, like Denki. There's nothing wrong with either, but as he sees Izuku’s flag almost whack him in the face, he’s glad he’s stuck to minimalism.

“Happy Pride, D- Izuku,” he echoes, and then asks how he can help. Izuku grins at him and gives him the rundown of their stand, handing him some supplies he can put on the tables and reminds him to secure loose things with various paperweights they have so they don’t go flying. Katsuki nods and gets to work. Pride starts a half hour later.

Katsuki’s surprised with how private, how secluded the family section is. The space is shoved between an alley off the main square of Pride, with a connection to the main festivities. The roar of music and people can easily be heard but it’s dulled by the buildings on either side. There’s still plenty of space for families, allowing them to easily spread out more than anywhere else in the main section of Pride. The calmness is a nice change, as much as Katsuki enjoyed being in the full swing of things the day before. He suspects that things will get a bit more busy as it turns later and more families show up, but it won’t be anywhere near the chaos of the main section of Pride.

Slowly, kids and their parents stop by, coloring and playing games and taking photos and resting. Izuku smiles the entire fucking time, and somehow, through the slower hours of morning, Izuku and him get talking.

“How are your parents?” Izuku asks which is a perfectly reasonable question for a kid who spent hours playing in his apartment growing up and getting to know his parents, but still has Katuki wincing.

“Uh, fine I guess. My old man retired two years back. Mom booked a deal in Korea a while ago and so she spent a lot of my last few years of highschool traveling for showings and is still doing that now.”

“Oh, wow,” Izuku says, “Good for her. Do you miss her?”

“Yeah, no,” Katsuki laughs. He crosses his arms, watches some kids color at the table over and pretends he doesn’t feel Izuku’s eyes on him.

“Oh, uh,” he says.

“Your mom?” Katsuki offers in turn. His mom really is not a subject he wants to talk to Izuku about. It’s too raw, too open, and half the time Izuku has him feeling that way already. They don’t need to throw his mommy issues into that mess.

Izuku perks right up.

“She’s good,” he confirms, “Really good. Teen years were… tough so it’s really nice seeing her finally get a chance to do the things she wants. She’s so much more alive.”

Katsuki spares a look his way.

“I know it’s not my fault,” Izuku confesses, “But I also know that taking care of me wasn’t easy and it’s nice seeing her get to do more things than when I was a kid. I know it was frustrating raising a disabled child, dealing with insurance, and fighting doctors. I know it was scary.”

“Kids aren’t supposed to be easy,” Katsuki points out, “I doubt your mom minded, and if so that’s either her fault, or society’s fault for not giving her resources to support you.”

“No, I know,” Izuku confirms, “I know. It’s just nice, seeing her not as tired.”

Which, well, Katsuki guesses he can’t fault Izuku for that.

“Ulcerative colitis,” Izuku eventually says.

Katsuki quickly realizes where this is going. Part of him dreads it. He doesn’t want Izuku to think he has to explain, especially not to Katsuki of all people. It’s Izuku who deserves an explanation, an apology, one Katsuki still hasn’t given.

“Izuku,” Katsuki says, “You don’t have to-”

“I want to,” he protests, insists. Katsuki sighs, but there’s not a lot of people around, not a lot of things for him to busy himself with, so he listens.

“I moved because no one locally was taking my mom and I seriously and I was losing a dangerous amount of weight,” Izuku confesses, “but we finally got a referral to some specialist a few prefectures over and one thing led to another and I was getting sicker and sicker and then we moved.

“Eventually I was diagnosed but well, a diagnosis doesn’t solve anything, doesn’t help with the symptoms. But it did start to give answers, access to a treatment plan. And y’know, they don’t want to do anything drastic when it’s a kid so they started with some meds and well- nothing was really helping and I spent… a long time in and out of hospitals trying to get me to gain weight. I was thirteen when I got my first feeding tube and it wasn’t long after I had a colostomy.”

Izuku pauses, lifts his shirt up slightly to show the top of the ostomy bag under it. Katsuki smiles at the cover, a teal with small lightning bolts racing across it.

“Spent most of my teen years trying to get a handle on it, find trigger foods and what I could easily keep down. I’ve done nasal feedings off and on and that with the ostomy changed things completely, allowing me to finally gain weight and function. Uh, I graduated high school, went to university close to home as I tested how much independence was realistically possible and eventually moved out after university and got a place with Todoroki. Started working and, well, I mean I’m not healthy, I had to get a feeding tube again recently, but hell of a lot better than when I was ten.”

“I’m glad,” Katsuki says instantly, because it’s true. The picture of young Izuku in his mind’s eyes is shaky, distant, and for a long time it was just categorized as ‘weak,’ ‘frail’ because that’s what young Katsuki had labeled him as, but if he really thinks he realizes that he remembers grabbing Izuku’s shoulder and feeling sharp bone, seeing the lines of his ribs and gaunt cheeks.

Now, Izuku’s a solid weight, a little chubby with soft fat on his cheeks and light bloating. Weight and nutritional levels aren’t the same- as seen by the fact that Izuku still needs the feeding tube- but it’s a far cry from how he looked as a kid, and Katsuki can only imagine he looked worse during the years he spent staying in hospital rooms. Izuku didn’t go into details, but he imagines it wasn’t a fun trip.

Somehow, Katsuki finds himself spilling as well.

He was born with the hearing loss and Izuku knows all about that, but that was just the beginning. Most of it, Izuku wasn’t there for, has never heard of.

“Two years after you moved away, I dislocated my wrist,” he starts. He can’t stop. He never talks about this, never explains, except to his closest friends. Sure Izuku and him knew each other as kids. But they’re not friends. Far from it.

Some disabled people are open about their full medical history. Katsuki respects that choice, and appreciates their dedication to education and sharing their stories. But he’s not like that. He prefers to keep his medical information private. It’s his business, and his care, and he doesn’t owe it to anyone. He doesn’t owe people explanations. He doesn’t have to tell people, doesn’t have to share. So he doesn't, not normally.

Now, Katsuki can’t stop. He continues.

“Three months later, it was my ankle, then various fingers. Eventually my hip- that was the big one. I was a rough kid, a sporty kid, so there wasn’t- my mom got on me, told me to chill out. She thought maybe I was just playing rough, had too much energy so I started doing more sports but I was getting tired a lot and kept having these headaches so my grades started to slip which-” Katsuki rolls his eyes, remembering the fights that had occurred over that.

“So I dropped some sports, got my grades up, but the headaches were still there and I kept dislocating my fingers in basketball so my coach had me benched and then one day I woke up and my leg hurt and I was limping and my mom yelled at me for being dramatic so I didn’t say anything but I kept limping and after two weeks my dad took me to the doctor.”

Katsuki pauses, looks at Izuku.

“I had been to my GP a bunch, even seen a few ER people for my hip and a few of the other dislocations. My dad didn’t take me to my GP. It was an office I’d never been to. The lady looked at me, had me walk, pinched my skin, looked at my gums, checked my flexibility, and asked about my dislocations. She spoke with my father, asked me to come back. They did lots of tests and none of them showed anything, but the doctor just nodded like she expected it. ‘Ruling things out,’ she said. A few months later…” Katsuki sighs, pauses, remembers the day clearly. It had been crushing then. Now, it’s a moment of relief, clarity, of finally getting answers.

“Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, hypermobile,” Katsuki admits, “sports went first and my mom was furious, convinced I was overreacting. But the limp didn’t go away and my wrists and ankles wouldn’t stop subluxing. Got my first cane at fifteen- my mom hated it, but that was when she finally realized this was the new normal. She pushed me into PT, shifted gears. If I wasn’t going to be normal healthy, I’d be as healthy as possible with my limitations.” He practically spats the last word, continuously bitter about his mom’s ableist language towards him.

“Cane turned to crutches, and I started using the wheelchair when I moved out. It uh- I didn’t want to at first,” he admits, and god why is telling this part to Izuku? Anything but this. Why this?

“I was convinced that it made me weak. The cane, the crutches, the chair- that each was a step down, losing. That I was failing, not working hard enough at PT, that I needed to step it up, push myself, get better,” he chokes out a laugh, “I was an ableist little shit and my mom was an ableist shit and it was so easy to direct that ableism inwards. It was Shinsou’s dad that kicked my ass into gear,” he shrugs.

“Got into punk, then found crip punk- met Mina, met Denki, found a community and now…” he trails off, and god why is he able to stop now? Stop right when he wants to be able to actually say shit, explain himself?

“Now?” Izuku asks quietly, which is just the thing Katsuki needs to continue.

Katsuki shakes his head, sighs.

“I wouldn’t give it up,” he admits, “Sure, the pain sucks, losing mobility sucks but I just- I can’t imagine not being disabled. Everything good in my life has been built around that discovery. The life and community and person I am today is defined to a degree by that aspect of my identity. Just like being gay is, like being cis is, like being Japanese is. I can’t imagine a world where I wasn’t disabled. That person- that person in that imaginary scenario… they wouldn’t be me.”

“Yeah,” Izuku eventually says, “You’ve got a point Kacchan.”

That damn nickname again.

“Why do you still call me that?” Katsuki asks.

Izuku blushes.

“I don’t know,” he admits, “Habit I guess? But I can stop if you want me to?”

“No,” Katsuki finds himself saying, “No it’s fine, I don’t mind. Just curious.”

“Alright then, Kacchan,” Izuku answers with a smirk, and Katsuki finds himself smiling.

Chapter Text

As the morning continues on, the family section starts to fill up more, children’s screams and giggles racing across the area. They also get a few visitors.

Katsuki’s friends show up, the same crew as yesterday minus Shinsou. Hanta and Eijiro introduce themselves to Izuku, chatting amicably for a bit before they decide the lack of access to adult activities is boring them, and continue on. Not long after, Todoroki and Shinsou poke their way through, three faces Katsuki doesn’t recognize with them. Shinsou’s yawning as they approach and Izuku pulls out a chair for him which he falls straight into. He folds his hands on the white plastic of the table and drops his head. Seconds later and he’s out.

Katsuki pulls his attention to the rest of the group. There's a fellow wheelchair user, but hers is a power chair and much more bulky than his, supporting her back fully as well as her neck and head. A tablet is attached to one of the armrests and the entire chair has pink theming and trim.

The shortest of the new members has a frog bucket hat and long dark hair, a hand firmly gripping the back of their friend's wheelchair as they rock back and forth. Clunky ear defenders sit over their ears, speckled with different stickers, and they have dark tinted sunglasses over their eyes as well.

The last person is somewhat tall, probably taller than Katsuki himself, with dark hair. He has the same socks as Izuku, and Katsuki smiles at the small hint of matching items. The person’s low set and small ears, smoothness in place of a nose bridge, and round face are indicative of Down Syndrome, and Katsuki gets a sense of relief knowing Izuku's friends are disabled as well.

“Zuku!” Todoroki cheers, flapping his hands wildly in a vibrant stim.

“Hi kiddo,” Izuku answers easily, “having fun?”

Todoroki nods eagerly.

“Mhmm, having sooo much fun and Ten-Ten said we could come see you and there was crafts and friendship bracelets and ‘Chaco says I can make her one and I like it over here because the rest - loud and - was getting over-stim-u-lated and ‘Toshi sleepy and - after Ten-Ten’s speech we came here and - way better over here.”

“I see,” Izuku says, using the voice he uses with the children that approach them. Katsuki doesn’t know who this is- but Todoroki’s obviously not in an adult headspace right now and Katsuki makes a note to follow Izuku’s lead. He assumes this is a member of the system he hasn’t met as of it, and Izuku will know them best.

Which is when Todoroki chooses to turn on him.

“Hi!” he cheers, “You’re Zuku’s friend.”

Katsuki chokes on air, because well, ‘friend’ is not how he’d describe his relationship to Izuku.

“Yup,” Izuku agrees easily, which has Katsuki choking again, “This is Bakugou. Do you remember him? Shouto’s met him.”

“An’ Raika,” Todoroki announces, “They tells me. Otherwise I wouldn’t be acting like me, silly. You know that!”

Izuku smiles at Todoroki.

“Yeah, I guess not, huh.”

“Mhmm,” Todoroki replies, “because I’m really good at acting like Shouto, right?”

Katsuki wonders what that means. Is it like autistic masking? When it comes to dissociative disorders, would it mean an alter pretending or masking as someone else?

“The best,” Izuku confirms.

“Mhmm,” Todoroki agrees again, and then he turns to Katsuki, “See, watch!”

Katsuki watches and for a second he wonders what he’s looking for. Immediately it becomes obvious. Todoorki straightens up, his eyes fade lightly and he looks slightly down, slightly stiff.

“Hi,” he says, in a smooth, deeper tone, nothing like the chipper one that had just been talking, “I’m Shouto.”

He speaks and looks and stands exactly like the Shouto Katsuki has started to know. If Katsuki hadn’t been told he was about to get a show-and-tell moment, he would have never known this wasn’t Shouto. Katsuki can only blink until Todoroki is bouncing up and down again.

“See, see, see!” he chants, “I’m really good at it. No one ever knows! Cause dissosahfive means real good at hiding!”

Katsuki can see that. He feels for Todoroki at the moment, and wonders how often different alters have had to pretend to be Shouto. He imagines it would get exhausting, and probably isolating, never being seen as yourself, your own person. Even if the person fronting now seems to be making it into a game.

“Oh and I almost forgot! I’m Neku. I'm - little and I use he/him.”

Katsuki stumbles as he realizes he’s being addressed.

“Hi Neku,” he manages, “Nice to meet you kid.”

Neku grins wider.

“I'm makin’ you a bracelet too!” He then turns to the others with him, “can we go and makin’ bracelets now?”

The group shares a look.

“I’ll take him,” the tallest answers, “you guys can join - -."

Neku hops up and down.

“Okay! C’mon Tenya I’ll make you a bracelet too but you have to wear it on your right wrist because you don’t have a left hand and I don’t want you to lose it.”

The other wheelchair user snorts at the comment, laughing as Neku earnestly stares up at the tallest. Katsuki notes the missing hand Neku is referring to as he studies the person known as ‘Tenya.’ At least he’s got one more name down, even if the people he’s about to be left with are unfamiliar to him.

“Sounds smart,” Tenya agrees, and allows Neku to grab his hand and drag him towards the area with friendship bracelets.

That leaves five of them: the wheelchair user, the person with headphones, Shinsou- still sleeping, Izuku, and him.

The wheelchair user is the first to speak but Katsuki can tell from how her mouth moves her words slur and drag and Kasuki can’t understand a word of it. He relies on clear speech with his aids, and this person’s speech isn’t that. The combination of the background noise makes her impossible to understand. He feels like a dick momentarily, because it’s not her fault her speech isn’t but then again it’s also not his fucking fault he can’t understand. It just is.

“I’m hard of hearing,” he admits, “Sorry, I don’t understand.”

But their eyes light up.

“SIGN?” they ask.

“YES SOME,” they reply.

They grin at him, head jerking to the side lightly and their foot kicks out.

“U-RA-RA-KA O-CHA-CO,” they introduce, “WOMEN.”

“BA-KA-GOU KA-TSU-KI. MAN.”

“PERSON THEY. THEIR NAME TSU,” Uraraka then introduces the last person.

The person waving the frog bucket hat rocks, never making eye contact as they stare at the ground but they do point to a pin that declares ‘she/they.’

They exchange nice to meet yous, and then Izuku jumps in, explaining that they’re friends he made in college and soon enough Katsuki’s hearing stories from Izuku’s uni years. Izuku tells most of the stories, but Uraraka jumps in from time to time. Hers are his favorite because they almost always include making fun of Izuku. He learns from the stories that the person who went with Neku is Iida Tenya, he/him. Tsu doesn’t tell any stories herself, but she does participate, rocking increasingly during climaxes and even letting small shrieks of noise out when Izuku tells him of the time they got kicked out of the library.

“YOU ASSIST NOTHING YOU,” Uraraka lightly teases when Tsu shrieks at the story, “YOU SAY ‘I WATCH,’ BUT WHERE YOU? NOWHERE!”

Tsu rocks more and shrieks back. Uraraka laughs at the noise and Tsu smiles back. Their familiarity with each other is obvious and Katsuki wonders if he and his own friends seem this close, this unified.

“They always argue over -,” Izuku admits, “We’re not supposed to eat in the library and - was supposed to be watching for - but she got distracted by a cute girl and we got kicked out.”

Katsuki nods along, half amused and warm at the tales and half amiss, feeling left out and strange, distant. He wonders if things were different, if he wasn’t so mean to Izuku growing up, if they would be friends like this. Izuku chats with his friends for a bit longer before they hesitantly mention rejoining Iida and Neku. Izuku nods, but Katsuki sees his disappointment as his friends prepare to leave.

“Go with them for a few minutes,” Katsuki encourages, “There’s not much to do here, and I’ll keep an eye on Shinsou until he wakes.”

Izuku studies him for a moment.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

Katsuki nods and watches him leave. A few minutes later a new family comes up to the table and Katsuki gives them a lay down of the events, making sure they’re equipped with coloring supplies, a map of the festivities, and some water. He continues like that for some time, keeping a general eye on things and making sure people- especially the kids- stay well hydrated in the sun. He teaches a group of older elementary age children how to play cornhole and he lets a little girl stick a rainbow heart sticker on his arm.

He takes sips from his own water and keeps an eye on Shinsou. He’s a little worried because he’s still asleep, but Shinsou had said that while he tends to have shorter sleep attacks, he’ll have the occasional long one. Izuku didn’t seem to be worried when he left, and he knows Shinsou better than Katsuki does, so he’s inclined to defer to him.

Either way, not too long later Katsuki sees Izuku striding back over, minus his group of friends, but plus one adult. Katsuki pauses for a moment, taking in the sight of dark, pulled back hair, messy stubble, lean, athletic body, and guide cane.

He should be happy to see the man but in reality his heart pounds with anxiety.

“Hi Kacchan,” Izuku says as he returns.

“Izuku,” Katsuki replies.

“Katsuki,” the man says, and Katsuki winces at the way he says his name, “It’s been a minute.”

“Hi Aizawa-Sensei,” he offers meekly.

“Hitoshi’s still asleep,” Izuku informs him.

Aizawa nods, and his hand finds the table. He moves to be next to Shinsou and places a hand on his head, gently brushing his hair back. It’s only then that Katsuki remembers Aizawa-sensei is apparently Shinsou’s father.

“Sorry, I never email or text you back,” Katsuki blurts out, and then cringes away at how Aizawa’s mouth curves. And really, how can he fucking easily apologize to Aizawa but can’t to Izuku after numerous conversations? It’s starting to get annoying.

“It’s fine,” Aizawa immediately reassures, “There’s no obligation to keep in touch.”

“I know,” Katsuki says, “I know, I know, I just…”

He doesn’t know how to explain, but he’s not sure it matters because he’s pretty sure Aizawa knows. Aizawa has to know how much he appreciates him, how much he’s done for him, how much Katsuki looks up to him and wants to make him proud. It’s hard for him to keep in touch, because he so badly wants to impress Aizawa that he gets stressed every time he pulls up his contact. He should do it anyway, just reach out, but he’s never able to.

Kastuki’s really good at intending to do things, but not following through, isn’t he? Just look at how his apology to Izuku’ss going. Oh right, it’s not.

“It’s okay Katsuki,” Aizawa-sensei promises, “It’s good to see you.”

“You too,” Katsuki sighs, finally taking a moment to breathe.

“So,” Aizawa says, “Catch me up, how have things been?”

“I have a new wheelchair since you last saw me,” he admits, “Orange now, lower back. Knew what I wanted this time, so I like it a lot better.”

That makes Aizawa give a nod of affirmation. He thought it would, and something inside him warms at the idea of making his mentor proud. He reports on his newer chair like it’s casual, easy, as if he’s updating about a color and comfort change but he and Aizawa both know it’s so much more.

It’s a proud acknowledgement that Katsuki’s still using his wheelchair, is happy with it, and is making it his own. It’s Katsuki seeing it as something that gives him freedom.

“Good,” Aizawa says.

Katsuki smiles, and it’s surprisingly easy to share his life of the past few years with his mentor. He talks about going to university and getting an apartment, explains how he met Shinsou through Denki. He mentions using his new chair more and getting involved with disability culture and how good it’s been for him. He shares about running into Izuku and why he’s here at Pride and Aizawa nods along. Katsuki even gets a soft, fond smile from him, which is rare from Aizawa.

In turn, Aizawa gives him his own mini update and mentions being here with his husband and kid when he ran into Izuku. Katsuki remembers Shinsou mentioning a little sister but before he can ask more, his questions are answered for him.

“Daddy!” a little girl shrieks, and comes racing for them.

Aizawa turns, and crouches, and the little girl barrels into him as he lets out an audible ‘oof.’ Behind her trails a man that must be Aizawa’s husband.

“Daddy, Papa and I made bracelets!” she cheers, “here, look!”

Aizawa offers a hand and she presses a mess of strands against it for him to grab.

“It’s pink and yellow and purple and black,” she explains.

Aizawa pulls out his phone and hovers it over the bracelet and the girl explains it in more detail, describing the details that Aizawa won’t be able to see. Aizawa’s husband joins them, ducking down next to them. Katsuki blinks a bit in surprise as the girl quickly switches to JSL as he crouches with them. Katsuki watches as the man presses a kiss against Aizawa’s cheek and something builds in Katsuki’s chest. It’s strange seeing his mentor with his family, people Katsuki didn’t even know existed.

“That’s Eri and Mic- er, Yamada Hizashi,” Izuku fills him in, “Mic’s Deaf and uses JSL.”

Katsuki nods, and wonders if Mic is the reason that Aizawa knows JSL. Katsuki had wondered at it way back when, when Aizawa first insisted he learn some signs even if he wasn’t fluent. At the time he had been completely lost as to why or even how Aizawa could learn JSL. To him, it had seemed opposite and so strange, a blind man knowing JSL. Aizawa had taught him quickly that his judgment did not belong here.

Now, Katsuki knows different pieces of intersection between Deaf, blind, and Deafblind communities. He knows hearing and vision loss are both spectrums and something that he had assumed impossible was very much an assumption.

He watches Aizawa’s family as they sign faster than Katsuki can keep up- using a combination of traditional JSL and tactile sign- and he smiles. It’s weird to see Aizawa this way, as a father, as a husband, but the more he watches the more it fits.

Eventually, Eri finishes her explanation about her bracelets and stands, looking curiously over at Katsuki. She asks Aizawa ‘WHO?’ and Katsuki’s chest warms as he watches Aizawa reply, PAST STUDENT.’ The whole family stands, and Aizawa returns to placing a hand on Shinsou’s head as Mic steps forward to introduce himself.

“ME NAME YA-MA-DA HI-ZA-SHI,” he greets, “NAME SIGN (proud-yell/victory).”

Katsuki introduces himself back and they go through the obligatory nice to meet yous.

“(s-blind)-” The name sign for Aizawa Shouta, Katsuki quickly realizes- “CHAT CHAT CHAT ABOUT YOU,” Mic remarks.

Katsuki grins as Aizawa scowls.

“YOU LIE YOU,” Aizawa claims.

“TRUE,” Mic insists, “YOU FAVORITE STUDENT YOU.”

Aizaw scowls once more but Eri’s already introducing herself as well so Katsuki just blushes and pretends that whole admittance never happened. He chats with Aizawa’s family quite a bit, helping a few other kids and parents throughout as well, but always returning to the family. They seem to have decided to stick by the table, waiting for their fourth member to wake, and quite a while later, he eventually does, stretching and yawning loudly.

“CAT,” Mic signs and Katsuki agrees.

“NAME SIGN?” he asks, “CAT?”

“NOW NEED,” Mic laughs, “HAVE-TO CHANGE HAVE-TO.”

Katsuki snickers in turn. Mic’s a weird opposite to Aizawa, loud, flashy, and bright. He’s not who he would expect Aizawa to fall in love with, but he can see it. He’s a fun guy and Katsuki’s beating himself up a bit for not sticking with JSL more. For all his disability pride he’s fallen more in with physically disabled culture that he feels disconnected to a degree from his Deaf identity. He quickly finds out how rusty his sign is when talking to Mic, someone so loudly and proudly Deaf.

Shinsou blinks heavily, and then looks at his dads with clear confusion until his brain processing finally starts to catch up. The family says their goodbyes soon after that, deciding to take Shinsou home and rest up themselves. Katsuki watches them go and promises himself he’ll reach out to Aizawa-sensei again soon. He’d like to talk to the man more, get to know him now that he’s a real adult and not some dumb kid.

From there, the day slows. Katsuki isn’t there for a whole event, but it seems like most of the volunteers are and he finds himself leaving a bit earlier than everyone else. He refuses to feel guilty about it because it’s not his fault his spoons don’t extend to the full day. Izuku leaves with him, also citing spoons and that little bit of camaraderie is nice. It makes Katauki feel like less of an outsider.

They split up at the trains and Katsuki goes home realizing he’s learned more about Izuku in one day than in ten years of growing up with him.

When he gets home, it’s to his roommates having ordered his favorite takeout. Shinsou is still missing and Denki informs them he’s staying the night at his parents. Katsuki mentions that he actually ran into them all today, and they all peer at him curiously. He thanks them for the food first, and then resolves to tell them about his day.

“So you and Izuku talked?” Denki asks.

“Yup,” Katsuki agrees around a bite of salmon.

“Dude, that’s awesome, good for you,” Denki acknowledges.

“Yeah, it was really nice,” he admits, “I thought it might be awkward but Izuku was super welcoming. It was kind of weird. And then we got talking and he shared practically his whole life story since moving away and for some reason I did as well? I have no idea what came over me, honestly.”

“Wow,” Mina says, “you like talked talked.”

Katsuki has no idea what that means in compared to talking regularly, but he nods anyway.

“Yeah, I guess,” he admits, “I think we’re good now.”

Sure he does still need to apologize but well, he can do that later. He needs to get to it, he knows he does but the day has honestly been really great and he doesn’t want to dismiss the bridges Izuku and him have so obviously mended.

“That’s great!” Mina says, “Because I’ve been wanting to invite our friends and Shinsou’s friends over for like a big game night or something but it would be so awkward if you and Izuku were still weird around each other so now it won’t be.”

Katsuki snorts.

“Well I’m glad our ‘weirdness’ won’t interfere with your big plans or anything.”

“If it was going to, I would have had to do something about it,” Mina tells him solemnly, which has Katsuki very glad that his and Izuku’s conversation went well today. Mina is terrifying when she’s set on a plan.

“A big game night?” Denki asks, “that sounds fun!”

“Right?!” Mina says. They begin to chatter about ideas and plans that have Katsuki vaguely nervous, but he tunes most of it out and finishes his takeout, satisfied that Izuku and him seem to at least have some solid ground to stand on.

Chapter Text

Frankly, Mina and Denki scare him. Four nights ago they were talking about having a game night comprised of two completely different friend groups including numerous people they have never met and now it's happening. Not everyone could make it, both Eijiro and Tsu had to take a raincheck, but besides that, all four of the invited guests could come, bringing their grand total to eight. The apartment is much too small for that many of them but they shove themselves into the tight space and pretend it works anyways.

There's not really a single game they can all play together so they've split into smaller groups. There's a small crowd around the TV playing Mario Kart and Katsuki is with the group in the kitchen playing Monopoly. Mina is absolutely wrecking all of them. They all groan as Shinsou lands on her property and he slowly starts to dish out the paper bills as Mina’s stack of money grows taller. Katsuki’s technically playing the banker and he's honestly considering slipping the rest of them some extra money just so they have a standing chance against Mina’s tyranny.

He really has no idea how she's doing so well because Mina's never been big into strategy games. The only reason she had even joined them was because all the remotes for Mario Kart had already been taken. Either way, she's crushing them all with her little metal dog and hotels covering half the board.

Katsuki takes his own turn, grateful that he's just passed Mina’s properties without sudden death and lands on someone's property that's currently mortgaged. He sighs in relief, goes to take a sip of his beer, and finds it empty. He frowns and Denki walks in, beelining for the fridge. Katsuki waves him over and Denki follows, almost tripping over his own feet before catching himself with a goofy grin. At first Katsuki thinks he might be drunk, but he doesn't even look tipsy so he brushes it off. Denki very, very rarely drinks anyways due to the fact that it triggers his seizures. Guess it's just the weed, even if it doesn't usually make him clumsy like this.

"Grab me a soda?" Katsuki asks, not intending to get drunk tonight, and Denki gives him a thumbs up before traveling back to the fridge. Katsuki watches as he grabs two Sprites, pressing one of them to his forehead and walking back over to give the other to Katsuki.

Katsuki frowns at the Sprite against Denki’s head.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"Oh, yeah," Denki says, "just a headache, I'm good."

Katsuki nods because Denki gets those pretty often, and lets him go hoping that it doesn't turn into a migraine before turning back to the board. Iida's up and he also had the unfortunate misfortune of landing on Mina’s property, and the whole table groans again as Mina laughs, cheerfully announcing the ridiculous hotel prices and raking in cash.

“This is what happens when we don’t tax the rich at higher rates,” Katsuki solemnly explains, “the middle class collapses and we have a class divide between the richest and poorest citizens. Our economy is failing.”

Mina sticks her tongue out at him for that comment, but he sees Iida nodding, taking Katsuki’s comment seriously and he appreciates some level of support for his economic reform based Monopoly rants. Mina, on the other hand, completely ignores him because she's all too familiar with Katsuki rioting in the middle of various games. Last time it was over the harmful effects of industrialization during their game of Catan.

Are they things he actually believes in? Yes. Is he arguing certain points in the moment because he's losing and using it as a last ditch effort to win? Also yes. Katsuki's not a live playing dirty.

Mina takes her turn, at Katsuki watches moresly as she passes 'go.'

The whole thing is a little overwhelming. Not just Monopoly, but the environment. The mix of the friend groups is new, but it's not weird and many of them know each other colloquially enough that they slide into place. The feeling of being overwhelmed comes more from the fact that Katsuki isn't really social in large groups so this is a strange experience for him. There's exceptions like Pride, or disability meet-ups he goes to, but this is an event that's actually being hosted at his house and directly in his space. It's all sort of new.

It is fairly tiring as well. Socializing is exhausting.

Fortunately, it seems that everyone else seems to think similarly and not much later they all settle down to watch a movie. Katsuki claims a spot on the couch that he's fallen in love with, transferring from his chair just to sink into his favorite part of the apartment. He likes Shinsou regardless, but the couch has definitely continued to win him major brownie points.

None of them can decide what to watch, so they throw on Ghibli and call it a day because you can never go wrong with Ghibli. It's something familiar and soft, nothing too tense that needs them to pay attention and follow the plot closely. None of them have the energy for something fast paced, thoughtful, intense, or new at the moment. It's nice to keep things simple, classic. It's a nice end to a long night. Or so Katsuki assumes.

They stop half way in for a bathroom, smoke, drink, snack, and sensory break and Katsuki finds himself middle of the pack for returning times. He looks around at who's present and he sees Hanta and Todoroki talking, Todoroki frowning deeply at the carpet. It's still a little weird seeing members from the different friend groups interact, and Katsuki hopes it's for the better. He hopes it can finally find the time and space to apologize to Deku so the final step to bridging their friend groups can finally be dealt with.

Slowly the final few people start to trickle back. Katsuki looks up as Denki returns to the seat next to him, looking a little spacy. His hands shake and Katsuki turns to check in with him when someone pokes his shoulder.

Katsuki looks at Mina who points to Todoroki and Katsuki raises a brow, nonverbally requesting him to repeat himself.

Todoroki does, but there's a lot of chatter and Katsuki can't pick up what he says beyond a few syllables. But they have gotten the rest of the group's attention by now, so they listen when Katsuki asks them all to tone it down for a second as he asks Todoroki to repeat himself again. If he had known what was coming, maybe he wouldn't have drawn so much attention to the exchange. But we'll, he can't change that now.

"What, are you and Izuku friends now?" Todorki scoffs, and the contempt in his voice surprises him. Katsuki thought they were on good terms now. There had been that moment with Raika but they had talked it out. Katsuki thought they were chill.

"Heh?" Katsuki offers.

"That's it? No apology? You just hang out for a few hours, tell ‘Deku’ that your life was rough- as if that justifies what you did?"

Katsuki… isn't following. Is Todoroki talking about the pride event? How would he even know what they were…

Oh. Hanta’s at Todoroki’s side and he's looking quickly between the two. Hanta, who Katsuki had told about the entire pride event. Hanta, who had no reason to believe that Katsuki would want to keep that information private, and truthfully Katsuki doesn’t mind it being shared. It's not like he's hiding it, he has no real reason to. He’s fine with people knowing that Izuku and him are getting along, but obviously there’s been a disconnect somewhere if Todoroki’s this upset. He doesn't know what Hanta could have said to cause that.

"Hey," Hanta says, "I-" but he stops when Todoroki's glare turns to him.

Katsuki isn't sure exactly what Hanta has said to Todoroki but it obviously upset him and now he has Izuku’s best friend pissed at him. This is… not great if he's being honest.

"Hey, Todoroki, they're good now," Mina says, "Katsuki told us everything, they talked, they're okay, he apologized."

Well, that’s not going to help, because Katsuki hasn’t apologized yet. He comes to the realization that when he told his friends that Izuku and him talked and were on good terms, they must have assumed that meant he apologized like he said he would. If Mina had thought that, and Hanta had thought it too and told Todoroki that Katsuki had apologized, but Todoroki had been talking to Izuku and knew that he hadn’t, then-

Ah.

Katsuki gets where this is going. Miscommunication. Lovely.

"No," Todoroki insists, "it's not ‘good.’ Katsuki bullied Izuku for over five years and they have one conversation where he doesn't even apologize and suddenly it's ‘all good?’"

Even as he responds to Mina, Todoroki stares directly at Katsuki, as he's who the message is so obviously intended for.

"Shouto," Izuku says.

"He needs to take accountability," Todoroki presses, "he doesn't just get to brush past it. You beat up Izuku, teased him, called him names. You suicide baited him Bakugou, and you don't even apologize? You just pretend that everything's fine? That you're friends now?"

"That wasn't-" Katsuki starts.

"We gave you a chance, because we thought you might actually apologize and take accountability but you obviously-"

"That's enough!" Izuku snaps, standing and stepping forward to palace himself directly in the center of the living room, in between them all.

They all go quiet. A tenseness hangs in the room. Katsuki is reminded that they have an entire crowd watching them. He's shaking lightly, and he's not sure if it's from anger or nerves. Maybe both. He grips his hands into firm fists.

"Izuku?" Todoroki eventually asks.

"Stop talking," Izuku snaps, and when Katsuki looks at him he sees tears pricked in the corners of his eyes. Shouto shrinks away at his words.

"Shit, sorry," Izuku mutters, voice softening, but Katsuki still flinches at the sound of Izuku swearing. "I didn't mean- Shouto- let's talk later, okay? About this?"

He’s looking at Shouto with wide eyes that have now slowly begun to leak tears and Katsuki remembers how easily Izuku has always been to make cry. It’s something Katsuki had intentionally tried to elicit when they were kids. Now, it makes him sick. He hates that he can still do this to Izuku.

"What?" Shouto asks, "No! Katsuki needs to apolo-"

"That's not for you to decide!" Izuku snaps back and Todoroki shrinks away.

"But-"

"Shouto, I know you're trying to be helpful, but you're not," Izuku insists, "this is not helpful. This is making a big scene in front of everyone about a private matter that I really don't want projected in front of all my friends and a couple other people I barely know. Kacchan and my past is my business and it's not your right to go spreading that around to everyone and causing a big scene and- Shouto I just, I need you to stop. Please."

"Izuku, I-" Shouto attempts, searching for words. "It’s- he bullied you. He hurt you, he's still hurting you and you-"

"Shouto," Izuku says firmly, "Kacchan is not your dad."

That stops Shouto in his tracks. He throws his shoulders back and stands.

"Okay," Hanta chuckles nervously, and they all feel the tension in the room, "I think maybe we all need to take a breath and-"

But before he can finish, a third person stands.

Denki stands straight up from next to Katsuki and Katsuki’s about to snap at him to not get involved when he plainly announces to the entire crowd, "I'm going to have a seizure," and then half falls, half slowly slides to the floor.

Katsuki scoots off the couch and onto the floor with him instantly, narrowly missing crashing into his wheelchair on the way down. Katsuki gives a decent scootch away from it, wanting them to have as much space as possible.

"Denki?" he asks, getting his attention as he helps him into position. Someone else jumps forward as well, pulling the couch back and away from them, giving Denki space and ensuring he won’t hit the couch.

Denki blinks at him with slow, lazy eyes, and Katsuki curses himself for missing the signs all night. The stumbling, the headache, the spacey looks. He had thought Denki was just high, a little tired. He hadn't even said anything, and usually his auras are pretty noticeable. Had he not noticed? Had he just neglected telling them? Had he thought it was going to go away?

Either way, they're here now, and that's what Katsuki needs to focus on.

"’mma have seizure," he repeats, words slurring and it’s only because Katsuki is so familiar with pre-ictal Denki’s words and behavior that he can lipread his slurred voice.

"Hey, yeah, I know, thanks for telling me," Katsuki says.

"Big one," Denki tells him, looking near tears. Katsuki really hopes he doesn't cry. He's horrible with tears, and Izuku crying already has Katsuki hitting his max for the night.

"Yeah, I know," Katsuki says. He unbuttons the top button of Denki’s shirt and he sees Mina herding the group away as Shinsou slips next to him and gets a pillow under Denki’s head. Katsuki scoots to the side a bit to give Shinsou better access.

"Do you want some water, baby?" Shinsou asks, and Denki just stares at him. His lip wobbles.

"Toshi?" Denki asks.

"Yeah baby?"

"Imma hava seizure," he tells him.

"I know, Denki."

"Don' feel good."

"I bet," Shinsou soothes, "we just got to ride it out."

"I don' wanna," Denki complains and Katsuki’s heart clenches. He hates this. He hates it every single time.

"I know," Shinsou says, "I know, but I'm here and I'll be right here when you're back, okay?"

"Mhmm," Denki says. And as if that was permission, Denki’s body goes rigid, the tonic phase settling in as he begins to gasp suddenly and harshly. Katsuki starts timing immediately. A few seconds later and the clonic portion kicks in, shaking starting. Shinsou slips against him and Katsuki calls out to Mina, who's been close by but giving them distance. She stumbles to join them, wincing as she takes to her knees and settles on Denki’s other side, keeping watch to make sure the pillow stays under Denki’s head. Shinsou regains control of his body and Katsuki sets a hand on his arm in some form of comfort.

The seizure is a minute seventeen. It feels much longer.

There's a trail of spit and small amounts of foam from Denki’s mouth and his pants are wet as well. At least Katsuki knows he's hydrated.

"Can you grab a towel to clean his face off?" Shinsou asks him, holding Denki’s hand now that the seizing has stopped.

Katsuki nods and staggers to his feet and sits back in his wheelchair before making his way to the kitchen to do as asked, largely ignoring the tense group in the kitchen. He does let them know that Denki’s fine, but that they should probably head home. He leaves the room before he can get dragged into whatever stumbling goodbyes they'll give.

Katsuki returns with a damp towel and Shinsou takes it, carefully wiping his boyfriend's face off as he slowly talks to him in soft, soothing tones that Katsuki's aids can't distinguish individual words from. He doesn't mind, he doesn't need to know what Shinsou whispers to him quietly as they all wait for Denki to be responsive.

At least his face and neck are cleaned off. They have to leave the pants for now, because they're not really in a position to change them.

"Hey," Hanta says, reentering the room, "everyone's heading out. Thought I'd offer to stay if you need help getting him to bed."

Katsuki sighs in relief, and Shinsou does so as well. One less thing to worry about. Shinsou could do it alone, but it’ll be easier with two of them able to help move Denki.

"That'd be great," Shinsou confirms, and it's then Denki starts blinking his eyes open.

"I'll lay out some pants," Mina offers, standing to disappear to Shinsou and Denki's room, "and some wet wipes, if he can't shower.”

Shinsou nods his thanks.

"Hrgg," Denki groans.

"Hey hun," Shinsou says, "You had a seizure. Do you know your name?"

Denki groans again, and gently, Shinsou repeats the question.

"Hmm, Denki."

"Good job," Shinsou praises, "do you know who I am?"

Denki stares at him, eyes unfocused for a long moment as they reach Shinsou’s face before his eyes begin to flick around their surroundings.

"Hey," Shinsou says, "focus on me."

Denki brings his gaze back.

"-?" he asks.

"Yeah, Denki, it’s me, you had a seizure," Shinsou confirms, "last question for now, then we'll get you cleaned up and in bed. Do you know where you are?"

Denki continues to stare and the longer he's awake, the more his eyes settle but it's barely noticeable. They flick a little around the room and back to Shinsou, but they’re still unfocused, unseeing.

He shakes his head softly, and then winces as he does so.

"That's okay," Shinsou promises, "we’re at home, at the apartment."

"We live 'gether," Denki realizes.

"Yeah, we do now" Shinsou agrees, and Denki groans.

"Okay, we're going to get you resting," Shinsou says. "First, you had an accident. Do you want to try and clean up in the bathroom, or just wipe off?"

Denki stares at him- through him- blinking, and a tear slips out of his eye.

"Tosh ih hurz," he groans.

"I know, I know," he soothes, "we'll get you to bed."

Shinsou turns to Hanta and Katsuki jumps in, stroking Denki’s hair as they make plans to move him.

Once the two of them are on the same page, Shinsou turns back to Denki, explaining the process slowly even if Denki isn't comprehending much of it right now. They move slowly, but together they get him upright and stumbling in the right direction to Shinsou and Denki’s room. The bathroom definitely is too ambitious right now. Wiping down will work until Denki has a bit more energy and is a bit more coherent.

A few minutes later, Mina and Hanta exit the room, Leaving Shinsou and Denki to give them some privacy and let them rest. Hanta says goodbye to them both with a tired wave, and soon enough he's leaving as well.

With a sigh, Mina sits heavily next to him on the couch.

"Shit," she says, "he was really out of it."

Katsuki nods in agreement. Big seizures are scary, even if Mina and him have been through quite a few with Denki. He always takes a few days to recover and the postictal period always has him waking up confused and lost but he was pretty out of it this time. Katsuki sighs, and turns back on the TV.

He exits out of the Ghibli movie and pulls up some reality TV show that the streaming platform says he's watched but that he never remembers seeing. He selects the most recent episode, and clicks play.

He leans back into the couch with a sigh. Mina does as well, and then pulls her feet up onto the couch and dips her head into his shoulder with a yawn. Katsuki shifts, and wraps his arm around her, pulling her close.

They fall asleep like that.

Katsuki and Mina both regret it the next morning when their bodies are stiff and hurting. It was a dumb choice and they should’ve just moved to one of their beds if they wanted the company.

Mina takes the shower first, letting him know she’ll leave it unlocked. Katsuki nods, and glances at his phone, noting the time, He’ll give her thirty minutes before checking in. It’s moments like these where Katsuki reflects on how normal these things have become. Helping a friend through a seizure, the inability to sleep on couches without extreme pain, having his roommate leave the shower door unlocked in case she falls or has a medical emergency. It’s not the life he expected, and some of these are the rough parts, but it’s also become so normal.

He sighs.

His ears ache, because of course he fell asleep with his aids in. He takes them out and he doesn’t have the spoons to go back to his room just to charge them, so he sets them aside for the time being and scoots to the ground to stretch and hopefully get some of the soreness and tightness out of his limbs.

His body is a shitty balance of stiffness and hypermobility and it comes with a whole nasty mess of pain.

It’s not a good morning.

Then, Shinsou scares the everloving shit out of him because Katsuki has his head down, leaning forward as he stretches out his back and as he sits up, Shinsou comes out of the kitchen. He jumps, startled and Shinsou verbally apologizes.

Katsuki points to his aids and Shinsou nods, stepping forward into the living room to join him. He has a bowl of carrots in his hand that he sets down so he can sign.

“DEN-KI HE OKAY?” Katsuki asks.

“ASLEEP STILL,” Shinsou replies.

Katsuki nods a confirmation.

“YOU SLEEP HERE YOU?” Shinsou asks.

“YES,” Katsuki admits, “MI-NA SHE, ME BOTH SLEEP HERE.”

Shinsou raises his eyebrows.

“DUMB,” Katsuki admits, “BODY HURT.”

Shinsou snorts, “OH-I-SEE. HELP-YOU?”

Katsuki considers, thinks about it for a second, and checks his phone. They are coming up on thirty minutes in a few here, and the bathroom door hasn’t opened.

“MEDICINE?” he asks, “THERE-MM MY ROOM, THERE-MM DESK, THERE-OO BACKPACK, IN.”

“OKAY. ANYTHING-ELSE?”

“MI-NA, SHE IN SHOWER. KNOCK DOOR, CONFIRM SAFE?”

Shinsou nods, and wanders off. Katsuki sighs, and continues stretching.

Mina exits the shower just as he's finishing up with his stretches and Katsuki gives her a nod. She smiles weakly back at her, and Katsuki watches her walk to her room, concerned. Usually he'd brush off the weak smile as a result of the shit show last night, but with Denki's seizure and sleeping on the couch, he's currently hyper aware of his roommates and his own health. He promises to keep an eye on Mina.

Come there hours later and he has hydrated, taken his meds, and eaten, as well as taken a shower so he’s practically winning at self-care. Sure it may have taken him half the day, but he did it. He's running on low spoons physically and mentally so just taking care of himself and doing the bare minimum is a huge accomplishment. Now there’s really just one last thing on his list.

Katsuki looks down at his phone, devoid of any new messages, and pulls up two separate chats. He knows he has to, knows it’s time, even if it makes his heart pound and his shoulders shake.

‘Hey, can we talk?’ he texts both Todoroki and Izuku.

Then he sits and plays the waiting game.

Chapter Text

Mina's sick. Katsuki had been waiting for it since the day after the get together when she had stumbled out of the shower past normal points of fatigue. She had taken a nap too, and slept through the rest of day, only waking for dinner. The morning after that, she woke up with a sore throat. That was all the confirmation Katsuki needed.

He gets home from work expecting to take a shower only to push the door to the bathroom open to see Mina puking in the toilet.

"Shit," he curses, and pushes his way into the bathroom.

Mina continues to throw up, unable to glance at him due to the fact that she's completely concentrating on getting her puke in the toilet bowl and not all over the floor.

"Alright," he says, moving to put a hand on her back, "I'm right here, I'll be right here."

He wants to say it's okay, that she’ll be okay, but he catches himself. Because Mina's obviously not okay and Katsuki doesn't know how long it will last and he refuses to give empty promises. But he can promise he'll be right here for her.

Her latest round of throwing up comes to end and she heaves out a shaky breath, tears running down her face from the effort and exhaustion.

"Mina," Katsuki offers brokenly, wishing he knew how to comfort people better.

She turns to face him slowly, the side of her head pressed against the toilet bowl, too exhausted to hold it up herself.

"Still feeling pukey, or all done?" Katsuki asks, and Mina mumbles an answer.

Katsuki can't tell what she says. He's already taken his hearing aids out, having planned on showering when he found her, and with how exhausted she is, she's mumbling in a way that makes him unable to even attempt lipreading. Not to mention his horrible lipreading skills to begin with.

"Can't understand you," he admits, "is it okay if I grab my aids real quick?"

Mina gives him a look then, and even through her sweaty face and rumpled hair, Katsuki reads it clearly. It's not a nice look, instead one of judgment. But it’s not judging towards Katsuki. It’s her calling him out.

"I don't mind wearing my aids," he promises, "I took them off because I was going to shower. You're not 'making' me wear them."

His roommates have emphasized clearly that they never want him to feel forced to wear his aids at home and that they can and will drop everything to become fluent in JSL if he wishes. Katsuki assures them that he’s fine for now. He regrets it a bit, but not their involvement. Moreover, he regrets not getting involved more in Deaf culture earlier.

She studies him for a minute, and seeing the clothes he had been planning on changing into in his lap, trusts his answer about planning on a shower. Katsuki watches as she sighs and nods, and then taps at her ear, agreeing about the hearing aids.

"I'll be right back," he promises, and races to his room. In the two minutes that he's gone, he puts on and turns on his hearing aids, grabs a mask, and texts Denki and Shinsou that Mina's sick.

He then returns to the bathroom, and Mina's puking again. Well, guess that's his answer to if she’s done puking.

The two of them spend the next half hour by the toilet. It's a miserable, draining experience. Katsuki tries to get her to take small sips of water throughout, but he's not sure how much it helps. She's losing way more liquid than she's gaining and Katsuki's been running through all of the things to do and try, but not a lot is helping. He's considering running to the ER before Denki and Shinsou get home.

Shinsou knocks gently at the bathroom door.

Katsuki looks up for Mina and him both, because Mina still has her head in the toilet.

"Hey," he calls, "totally fair if you don't want my input, but I thought I'd offer these ginger tabs? Izuku swears by them."

Head still in the toilet, Mina sticks her hand out. Katsuki doesn't blame her. You get to a point where you're either willing to try anything, or nothing. Looks like Mimas currently settled on 'anything.'

Shinsou passes them to Katsuki who hands them to Mina. She grabs one, and settles it in her mouth.

Mina stops puking ten minutes later.

"Damn," she pants, fully, utterly, exhausted, "no wonder Midoriya swears by those."

Katsuki privately agrees. It’s probably too soon to really call it, but in just ten minutes Mina went from throwing up for an hour to being able to talk and start slowly drinking water.

Carefully and at a steady, cautious pace, they get Mina in bed with a puke bucket, crackers, water, and Gatorade. Katsuki sits with her for a while and runs through some motions. He takes her temperature, unsurprised to find it at 101 and gives her some fever reducer as well. After, he begins to wipe down her room as she coughs and shivers in bed, desperately trying to get some rest.

It might not be super helpful cleaning after Mina's already sick, but sterilizing everything will help with continuous spread or her picking up anything new, so it's worth it. Mina’s immune system is considered compromised for a reason and Katsuki refuses to mess around with that.

Luckily, they're all pretty familiar with the motions so it becomes easy to wear masks indoors and agree to showering the moment they get home while Mina recovers. Katsuki just hopes she doesn't get much worse, or that she can at least keep some food and water down to regain energy.

She can't fight this if she's exhausted.

The next two days the three healthy members of the household take shifts, trading off checking in on Mina. To Katsuki's surprise, she does stay puke free and doesn't get worse, even if she certainly doesn't get better quickly. But she sleeps a lot and her fever breaks at the end of day two, just leaving her with a nasty cough and rougher than average flu symptoms.

He spends most of his weekend off with her while Denki works, but keeps his Sunday afternoon for himself. Afterall, he does have someone to talk to.

The thing about Mina being sick and Katsuki spending time at her bedside is that he's been on his phone a lot. Which means he's been texting a lot which means he's set up time to talk to Izuku.

Izuku’s actually eager to talk and doesn’t seem mad at all over text which truthfully comes as a shock to Katsuki. He had expected at least a little hesitance but then again Izuku has always been friendly, even when he maybe shouldn’t. It’s something Katsuki both scoffs at and admires.

But Izuku has no reservations and easily agrees to meet. Katsuki wants to provide a middle ground but he doesn’t really know where that is so he invites Izuku to get coffee to go from the place he had brought Katsuki a few weeks back and then head over to a park half a block away. Izuku agrees and before Katsuki has time to actually plan any of this out even though the entire point of this was to have a plan, he’s sitting in the park sipping coffee with Deku.

What has life come to? If fucking ten year old Katsuki could see him now, he’d straight up laugh.

“So, what’s up?” Izuku says, zero expectation in his voice as if he doesn’t know what Katsuki wants to talk to him about. But he has to know because well- it has to be obvious right? Katsuki can’t be the only one constantly thinking about this, constantly rolling it around in his head.

Katsuki freezes.

“Kacchan?” Izuku asks, “Are you alright?” He even reaches out, hand inching towards Katsuki and that’s the tipping point.

“What the fuck Izuku,” he snaps. Izuku coils back, and instantly Katsuki grits his teeth and slams his face into his hands. Fuck, fuck, fuck, the plan Katsuki! Stick to the plan! The plan that he was supposed to come up with and definitely didn't.

Goddammit he has no idea how to do this.

“Kacchan?” Izuku asks, voice much more concerned this time.

“Fuck, Izuku, what the hell?” he asks, looking up. Izuku doesn't seem to understand which is fair really, just looking at Katsuki with wide, concerned eyes that he doesn't deserve.

“Todoroki had a point,” Katsuki admits, because it’s true. Todoroki did have a point. It was a fair call out. “I was a dick to you as a kid. I was- I was awful. And yeah, sure I had my reasons but that doesn’t make it okay. Those things don’t make the bullying okay. The teasing, the harassment, the pushing and shoving, th fuck- Izuku I used to beat you up, I gave you black eyes. The suicide baiting I-” Katsuki’s surprised to find his eyes wet.

“I am so sorry,” he says, “Fuck, Izuku I am so sorry and I should have said it sooner. You didn’t deserve any of that, none of it, and it was a shitty thing to do. I’ve grown since then, and I- I need to take accountability. What I did wasn’t okay, it was never okay, and I’m sorry.”

Izuku blinks at him.

“I’m sorry for the physical violence, from the pushing to the tripping you, and beyond. I’m sorry for the mental torture, the name calling and ostracization I put you through to separate you from our classmates and make you seem like ‘other.’ I’m sorry for the betrayal of being your childhood friend to your bully, and I’m sorry for using our history against you.
“You didn’t deserve any of it, and you never did anything wrong. I was jealous and I was hurting and I took that out on you which was inappropriate and immature and never once your fault.

“You deserved that apology from the start,” Katsuki confesses, “So I’m also sorry it took this long for me to get my head out my ass.”

Izuku chuckles at that, and Katsuki takes the moment to wipe at his eyes, refusing to let tears fall over this dammit.

“I’m actually glad you didn’t apologize earlier,” Deku admits, “My therapist says I forgive way too easily.”

Katsuki laughs.

“That’s true,” he says, because even as kids Izuku was always forgiving him, justifying his actions even when he never deserved it. Izuku sighs, and picks at his fingers.

“I appreciate it,” he says after a moment, “The apology. It’s… I made peace with it a long time ago,” he admits, “The bullying, the - you put me through. I’m not going to pretend, it messed me up for a good bit and I struggled a lot with self-worth and friendships for a long time. Todoroki- he was one of my first real friends and I think that’s why - - protective of me. Because he saw what I expected from friendship and he knows that you’re the person who taught - ideas to me.

“It took me a long time to learn what a real friend should be like,” Izuku admits, “And I blamed myself for most of it. But uh- like I mentioned, I’ve done therapy and I’m at peace with it. It was a long time ago, and - in the past. It happened, but I’ve moved forward since then and now… It just is.”

Izuku looks up and meets Katsuki’s gaze straight on.

“But being at peace with what happened doesn’t mean being at peace with you. It meant being at peace that I didn’t do anything wrong, and you bullied me anyways. Being at peace with your actions doesn’t mean forgiving you.”

Katsuki gulps, and nods. It’s a fair assessment and he’ll take it. All Katsuki can do is apologize and do better. It’s Izuku’s decision to forgive him or not, and Katsuki will be fine with either. The apology was for Izuku, not for him, and he gets to choose what he does with it.

“I wanted to forgive you immediately when I saw you again,” Izuku confesses. He chuckles lightly, hollow, “Before you even said a word. Because a part of me saw you and instantly slipped back into that kid who thought you were cool and thought I deserved that and you were worthy of forgiveness because it was you and I was me and so that made it okay. My friends talked to me though- my real friends- and I realized you hadn’t earned forgiveness yet.

“But we kept talking and you helped out with Pride and I realized you changed. With me, but also with everything else. You were kind, and caring, and harsh but not in a mean way. Not in a hurtful way. You make food for your friends, and helped me out - an event just because. You let your friends house game nights at your apartment even though you don't like crowds. You call Todoroki’s alters the right names, and Aizawa trusts you. You never apologized, and never said that you changed, but you showed it. You showed me.

“And you’re right,” Izuku says, “I deserve an apology. Because what you did to me wasn’t - and it wasn’t right and I didn’t deserve that. And now you have apologized, and are actively taking accountability and showing me how you’ve changed.”

Katsuki hearts pound with the effort of listening and he does his best to keep his mouth shut as he hangs on to Izuku’s every word.

“Kacchan,” Izuku stresses, “I forgive you. And I’m okay with forgiving you.”

The first thing Katsuki wants to do once hearing Izuku’s mini speech is reject it, protest that he’s not worth it, that he's a bad person, and that he’s hurt Izuku. But he doesn’t. Instead, he shuts up, listens, and processes, because that’s his responsibility in this situation. It’s Izuku’s choice to forgive him or not and Katsuki has to let him make that choice.

So he listens to Izuku's words, processes them and maybe there’s still some self hate deep inside of him that protests but that's something Katsuki needs to deal with alone, not continue to infringe upon Izuku.

“Alright,” he says, “Thanks Izuku.”

They sit for a moment.

“You stopped calling me Deku,” Izuku notes, “A little while ago.”

“Yeah,” Katsuki agrees, “seemed about fucking time. It’s not exactly a nice nickname.”

Izuku hums.

“I guess,” he agrees, “It’s just weird. I’m - used to hearing it from you.”

“Well get used to it,” Katsuki snorts, because he has a feeling after this whole feelings talk he’ll be seeing more of Izuku.

“Do I have to?” Izuku asks, “I don’t mind it.”

Katsuki turns, squints at him.

“You don’t mind being called useless?” Katsuki challenges.

“No, I do,” Izuku confirms, “but I don’t know. It feels like… something I want to reclaim. - that dumb?”

Katsuki reflects, thinks of the cripple punk pride he has and of the word queer he labels himself with.

“Maybe a little,” he admits, “because it’s from me. But it’s your choice.”

Izuku shrugs.

“Alright,” he says, “then call me Deku.”

“Alright Deku,” Katsuki snorts, “Whatever you say nerd.”

“Thanks Kacchan.”

Somehow Katsuki can’t help but feel like he got the worse nickname. Something in him- something that’s been sitting there since Deku first moved away- settles. Now he just needs to have one more heart to heart and he can be done with this feeling shit.

Todoroki takes another week to text him back. It works well enough anyways because Katsuki has work and Mina's still recovering. Thankfully, it is recovering now, instead of a continuous steady level of sickness. Her cough is lightening up and she's had more energy even if she still is sleeping long hours.

It's a relief to see some of her color come back and Katsuki becomes reassured that this won't get worse and end up with a hospital visit. They're trying really hard to make it a year without going to the ER as an entire household, and it's seems like they've conquered one more thing in pursuit of that goal. Score.

Mina laughs at Katsuki's comment about it, and she teases him about being a softy who really does care. Katsuki grumbles and tells her to make her own soup then. But she pouts, and Katsuki sighs, and makes homemade soup with the stock he's been preparing that very same night.

He wants to talk to Todoroki, he needs to, but things are a little chaotic. So they chat over the phone a bit, figuring out the time and space to do so.

He talks mostly to Raze over text, who he hasn't met personally yet. This time he insists Katsuki come to their place so Shouto and him can talk. Katsuki accepts and finds himself making his way over.

When he knocks on the door he has the sudden realization that this is not just Shouto’s apartment, but also Deku’s. He doesn’t have the time to process that fact before Todoroki is opening the door.

“Hey,” he greets, “It’s Shouto by the way.”

Katsuki nods, and leads with his crutches.

The door enters directly into the living room, a small space for the genkan before the apartment spreads out before them. Katsuki struggles with his shoes for a moment, and shoves them aside. Deku’s sweatshirt hangs by the door and there’s All Might house slippers on the floor. Katsuki didn’t know he was still into those comics.

He follows Todoroki further in, examining the space. Their apartment is much smaller than Katsuki’s, which is understandable considering they have half the amount of people. But while the space is small, the apartment seems large, full of light and vibrance. Posters hang on walls and art pieces, and even a woven tapestry. In the living room there’s a large wall covered in photos, a mural of memories. Katsuki sees pictures of Izuku and his mom, of the friend group he’s built, of Todoroki at the beach, of his coworkers at the school he works at.

Todoroki catches him looking and he beckons him over. Katsuki steps forward, and Todoroki points out a specific photo, pressed in with a thumbtack. It’s one of Izuku as a toddler, in a sandbox. In front of him is a small sand castle, poorly constructed, and on the other side is Katsuki, light hair sticking straight up and flesh-toned hearing aids blending into his skin.

“He put that up the other day,” Todoroki remarks.

Katsuki says nothing.

“We talked,” Todoroki says, “I- I shouldn’t have brought up everything like that. It wasn’t my place.”

Katsuki nods, and Todoroki beckons to the couches. They both sit.

“It was really triggering for me hearing that you and Izuku were getting along again,” Todoroki admits, “because - a long time, before you came back into the picture, he had - of this… idol worship for you? He was aware what you did wasn’t nice, but he used to justify it. I turn, hearing that you were getting along again but that you hadn’t apologized…”

Todoroki pauses, and he looks back over at the pictures, a small smile on his face.

“I worried that it would be this same pattern of you never taking accountability for what you did and Izuku being forced to justify your bad behavior. That wasn’t fair of me to assume, and it was out of line for me to bring it up the way I did. I think my concern - reasonable, but the way I went about it was inappropriate. I’m sorry.”

Todoroki dips his head down, soft hair falling into his face and now that Kasuki is sitting so close to him, he sees that the two different colors of his hair even have different textures. The white is thin, light, while the red looks coarser, with a bit of curl in it. Katsuki wonders if it’s hard to style because of that. Maybe that’s why Todoroki always keeps it split.

He thinks of what he knows about Todoroki. So far all of it has been in the context of Deku and he finds himself thinking of Todoroki as adjacent to Deku. But then he starts considering the things of Todoroki that he has learned. Shouto speaks with precision, even when he’s upset. Neku likes crafts and spending time with friends. Raika is snarky, but only if you’re able to get past her tough exterior. Raze is firm, and was willing to push Katsuki and Shouto to talk.

“Thanks,” Katsuki accepts, “I uh- I appreciate that. And you had a point and I wanted to talk to you to because you’ve been the friend that Deku needs. I- when we were kids I thought we’d be friends forever. But then shit happened and I was a jerk and- I never thought I’d see him again,” Katsuki admits.

“But,” he continues, “I used to lay awake sometimes, and think about him. I’d think about the fact that even if I had changed after all this time, that didn’t change the fact that I had bullied Izuku for years and he could be anywhere in the world and I had no idea if he was okay after that, after the way I treated him. It- meeting you was a relief,” he acknowledges, “Knowing that Izuku had someone like you and your system, that Izuku had someone on his side that cares about him so much…”

Katsuki smirks.

“If you haven’t asked him out, you should,” he teases, and watches with delight as Shouto blushes.

“I did, actually,” Shouto says, “We also talked, after everything. I guess we’re… dating or something.”

Katsuki laughs lightly.

“Wow,” he says, “nice.”

Shouto blushes, shoves his head in his hands.

“I have no idea how it happens,” he admits, “I cried. I- I cried. It was - embarrassing.”

“I almost cried when I apologized to him,” Katsuki admits, “It was strange. I haven’t cried for years.”

“Me too,” Todoroki admits.

Katsuki looks at him, and Todoroki gazes evenly back, whatever remaining tension between them finally fading.

“Deku’s sure something,” Katsuki says, “Huh?”

“Yeah,” Todoroki agrees, looking down at the floor for a second. “You care about him.”

Katsuki gulps, but he’s realizing that yes, he does. He never stopped caring about Deku, even after all this time, and now, knowing him again, that sense of care is growing stronger and fiercer every day.

“I do,” Katsuki says.

“Good. He needs more people in his life caring for him.”

Katsuki reflects, thinking about the fact that he almost solely knows Todoroki through Deku but that he loves the parts of Todoroki he’s gotten to know separately.

“Y’know, you’re not bad yourself,” Katsuki admits, “I uh, care about you too I guess.”

Todoroki looks up, eyes narrowed as he meets Katsuki’s gaze once more.

“I’d like to be your friend,” Katsuki presses, “And not just- leaving Deku out of it. I think maybe that’s why things got weird. We only knew each other through Deku and you were trying to protect him and I was trying to reconnect with him and… I want to be your friend Todoroki.”

“Oh,” Todoroki says, faintly, distantly, “Well I guess I would like to be your friend as well Bakugou. Though I thought we were already friends.”

Katsuki laughs.

“Maybe? I don’t know. It was weird, but this is a do-over. A ‘friends regardless of Deku’. if that makes sense.”

Todoroki nods, and offers a hand for Katsuki to shake. He snorts, but takes it. Katsuki’s so good at having heartfelt conversations. Two for two.

“So,” he transitions, “tell me about some of these photos.”

Todoroki lights up immediately, and he goes to the wall, weaving stories around each one.

His voice is fairly flat and he forgets lots of details, sheepishly admitting that his memory has a lot of gaps and he’s not very good at telling stories anyways, but Katsuki doesn’t mind. Because even though Todoroki stumbles through explaining the photos he smiles the entire time and his eyes glitter and Katsuki watches as he traces the photos carefully with his fingers as if there precious, delicate items, like the good china his mom had that he was never allowed to touch growing up in fear that he would break it. Katsuki finds himself enjoying watching Shouto, enjoying the way he frowns as he tries to get any additional information about a photo from his system internally and how he smiles sheepishly at Katsuki and move onto the next photo with a small huff, saying that at least this one is one he remembers because he had been the one fronting.

Katsuki watches Shouto, sees the care he has for people, has for things, and he thinks of the difference between this version of Shouto and the Shouto who had stood up to him in the living room back at his apartment and he realizes they aren’t different at all in the end. This is the same Shouto, just at the apartment Katsuki had been a threat to Shouto’s friends and in this scenario he is one of Shouto’s friends.

Katsuki loves the feeling that it brings him and he finds himself unable to tear his gaze away.

It’s then, he realizes, that maybe he wanted more than a friend redo. It’s been a long time since Katsuki’s had a crush. Todoroki Shouto isn’t a bad option.

He goes home, realizing he might be in love.

He thinks things cannot get worse. He thinks things cannot get better.

The day after Bakugou Katsuki realizes he’s in love, he wakes to a phone call. The light blares, flashing up at the ceiling and he wipes the sleep out of his eyes, scrambling for his hearing aids. He doesn’t quite see the caller ID but it’s not a string of numbers so he’s aware enough that the number is saved in his phone.

His aids connect to his phone and he answers it with a swipe.

“Hello,” he offers, voice hoarse and heavy with sleep.

“Katsuki,” his mother greets, “Oh, - I wake -?”

Katsuki glances at the time and he realizes that yes, she did, and it’s also two hours later than when he usually gets up. He twists and frowns as he sits up fully in bed, wondering why the hell he had slept in so late.

“It’s fine,” he mutters, because he just wants to get this over with. He’s already regretting not confirming the caller ID before he answered.

“Good,” his mom answers, “I called your boss and he - you had weekends free - I wanted you - come over - weekend for dinner. I’m flying out to Korea again in - weeks and I’ll be - for - months - I want to - you before I go. Your dad and I miss you, you brat, - let’s have one - family meal together, okay?”

Katsuki blinks.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “Did you say you called my boss?”

“Yes,” she says.

Katsuki’s brain freezes and his heart pounds. His hand tightens around his phone and the joints in his fingers ache with the pressure. He’s never told his mom his boss’s phone number, much less where he works. All she knows is that he works for an afterschool program.

“I- how did you get his number?” he asks.

“Oh, your father mentioned what school you worked at and I - made a few calls,” she brushes off, “It - easy enough, and - probably a good thing I have it too. He mentioned that you work every day of the week, and I have to - Katsuki, that’s just great! - like you’ve finally stopped slacking off with your health. Have you been going to PT? You’re not on our insurance anymore, - I can’t follow that, and you were - - stubborn about - the wheelchair when you were on our insurance. I - wondering if you had made any progress there. Are you back to walking unassisted? - okay if you still need the cane and crutches sometimes, - a long process but getting you out of that chair is really a - in the right direction for your health. I know you can get lazy, but-”

Katsuki hangs up the phone.

He sets it down softly, slowly, hand going limp by his side. He takes a single breath and then he’s gasping. His hand clutches at his chest, tearing at the lightweight sleep shirt he has on. He leans forward, taking a deep aching gasp. He growls, frustrated and grits his teeth together. He squeezes his eyes shut and tenses up his body as tight as it can go, anger filling up deep within him and then he breathes as he releases. It doesn’t help.

He pants with the weight of his anger, with the hate that comes pouring out of him.

He wants to pick the phone back up and call his mom, explaining that he will not be going to a family dinner with her because she’s an ableist, toxic piece of shit that refuses to put his health first and love him for who he is. He wants to scream at her that his wheelchair has saved his life, that it doesn’t hold him back or make him more unhealthy. He wants to tell her that his body is already ‘unhealthy,’ that he is disabled and his wheelchair gives him freedom. He wants to list to her the freedoms that mobility aids bring him, how they let him go to the store, the park, to pride, to coffeeshops, to work. He wants to tell her that he can cook again and explain to her that he had stopped cooking with her as a teen even though he had loved it because it hurt to stand that long and his fingers ached slicing vegetables for long periods of time. He wants her to understand that there is a difference between lazy and exhaustion, between laziness and using tools for success.

But he doesn’t. He can’t.

Because she’s his mom and Katsuki’s her kid and he hates her, he hates her so much but he just wants her to love him, to see him for who he is and love him for being that person.

He doesn’t pick up the phone.

Instead he hurts. He hurts and feels anger and rage simmers deep inside of him and he remembers ten year old Katsuki who felt this way. He didn’t struggle with mobility then, but it was his mom and she always found something to pick on, whether that was school and grades, or how good he was doing in sports or how clean he kept his room.

It was always something with her, something he wasn’t doing well enough and Katsuki is an adult goddammit but she still makes him feel like that scared, angry, hurt little kid. And that kid had been fierce with his anger, taking it out on others around him. He had seen Deku, sweet caring Deku and had seen everything his mother destroyed in him and he had jumped right on, determined to tear it down.

Katsuki had been an awful kid, and his mother had been an awful mother. Now, as an adult, Katsuki has grown and healed and changed and made peace with all of that shit, all of that past, but a single damn phone call from his mom still sends him spiraling.

Hands shaking, he reaches for his phone, and pulls up his contacts. He never calls because even though his hearing aids connect to his phone, it’s still hit or miss. But he needs an answer, now.

The other side picks up.

“Hey Ei,” Katssuki hisses around his attempts to take deep, smooth breaths, “meet me at the gym?”

“Katsuki?” Eijiro asks, “hey - something-”

“Please, Eijiro,” Katsuki begs, “come to the gym with me.”

“I- alright,” Eijiro agrees, “be - in forty?”

Katsuki mutters a yes, and hangs up. He stands, legs shaking from the pain and the anger and gets dressed in workout clothes. He looks at his wheelchair as he leaves. He studies it, the worn cushion that he needs to replace, the pushrims that have given him callouses, spokes Mina decorated for pride, the handles he’s attached spikes to, the pocket for his meds and other supplies on the back. It’s dark orange and black, one of the few custom things insurance let him get away with even if he had to pay extra out of pocket for it.

Katsuki loves his chair. He can’t fucking look at it right now. He grabs his crutches instead. He has a gym to get too.

Chapter Text

“I need to punch something,” Katsuki says when he meets Eijiro at the gym.

“Um,” Eijiro says, and Katsuki just moves past him so he can sit and wrap his wrists. Eijiro walks over to the bench he’s at, joining him, watching as Katsuki pulls out braces and wraps.

“Dude,” Eijiro says, “What the fuck happened?”

Katsuki ignores him and tries to tighten the brace on his wrist but his fingers scramble without purchase, locking up because of all the fucking days he needs his body to have a light symptom day he’s cramping and hurting and aching. After a second Katsuki just shoves his wrist towards Eijiro. Eijiro sighs but takes it, tightening the brace for him, and watching him, waiting for the nod that it’s settled right.

“I’m mad, and I’m angry, and I need to punch something,” Katsuki repeats, “And I need you to not tell me that it isn't safe or that I could hurt myself because if I don’t do this I’m going to do something even more self destructive and I invited you here to be as safe as possible. Okay?”

Katsuki already knows the risk of impact sports. He doesn't need Eijiro telling him.

“Yeah,” Eijiro sighs, “alright man.”

Katsuki nods, and Eijiro helps wrap his hands. He’s about to do some dumb shit, but he’s about to do the dumb shit as safely as possible so he’s fine. It’s fine. It’s all fine.

Eijiro’s seen him like this before. It’s become less and less common for Katsuki to do this, force Eijiro out to the gym with him so he can make bad decisions, but it still happens occasionally. It’s a step up from when Katsuki didn’t invite him at all and neglected taking care of his wrists and fingers, ending up with bloody knuckles and numerous dislocations.

His mother’s voice grates in his ear and he can still see the flashing light of his phone going off moments before he accepted the call.

He lets Eijiro pull him to his feet, finds his balance beneath him. He leaves his crutches at the bench and uses Ejiro’s shoulder as a makeshift mobility aid as he walks over to the punching bag. Eijiro supports him easily, letting Katsuki lead. One of the great things about Eijiro is that he's big. He's tall, jacked, and fat. Everything about him is big, which makes him a great physical support. Katsuki's used him as a substitute mobility aid more than once.

When he lets go of the support, he immediately regrets not bringing his wheelchair. His knees hurt and he’s not going to fall or anything but it’s not exactly like the pain is pleasant. But it’s too late now. He’s here, and he’s doing this.

Katsuki adjusts his feet, raises his fists and bends his aching knees. He did martial arts for years as a kid and even now the forms are easy to fall back into. He looks at his target, makes sure his thumbs are positioned correctly and prepares for his first punch.

He breathes deeply, gets a hand on his anger. He wants to channel it, use it, not let it control him. Accurate, hard hitting punches with good follow through, he reminds himself. He’s not here for sloppy shit. He taps the bag lightly, focuses on where he’s planning to hit and then pulls his arm back, feeling the muscles in his body move and reminding himself of the motions.

Alright, time for the first punch. Katsuki’s light on his feet and his hands are wrap and he’s holding the energy and anger in him that’s ready to be released and-

With a sigh, he drops his neat, tight form and lets his arm move forward at a slow pace, coming to lightly tap the bag, not even attempting a punch. His hand settles softly on the bag. He closes his eyes, grimaces, and his other hand follows to join the first resting on the bag.

He looks down, sees himself standing and wonders what the fuck he’s doing here. He looks back up, at wrapped hands under braces and knows that this still isn’t safe and that he’s doing this on purpose, self sabotaging. He’s not hurting other people and he’s not hurting himself as bad as he maybe used to, but he was planning on hurting himself to some degree, which isn’t okay either. His knees, ankles, and hips all hurt, body not used to holding his weight like this, and he beckons Eijiro over.

Eijiro sighs, and comes to his side instantly, letting Katsuki swing an arm over him as he helps him back to the benches.

Katsuki sits roughly, looking at his hands. Eijiro reaches over carefully and begins to unwrap them. Katsuki lets him.

As he unwraps them, shaking fingers are revealed, but at least they’re just shaking instead of bruised, broken, or dislocated. Katsuki sighs at the sight of them. He leaves the braces on because his wrists are hurting anyways, but lets Eijiro shove the wrappings in his bag.

“Talk to me Katsuki,” Eijiro requests.

Katsuki breathes heavily, through his nose and out his mouth. The corner of his eyes prick with tears.

“My mom called me,” he says, “I didn’t realize it was her, so I picked up.”

The gym is too noisy for him to hear Eijiro’s own sharp inhale, but he feels the change in his breathing against his neck. Almost unintentionally, Katsuki lets his head lean against his best friend's shoulder. This time, it’s Ejiro’s turn to wrap an arm around him.

“I want my wheelchair,” Katsuki admits, because he really should have brought it today with the amount of pain he’s in and the fact that he was planning on going to the gym.

Eijiro nods, and Katsuki’s head moves lightly with the movement.

“Do you want to go home?” he offers.

Katsuki sighs, and shakes his head into Eijiro’s shoulder. He’s not ready to go back yet. Home is supposed to be safe but right now when he thinks of home he just thinks of waking up in bed to his mother’s phone call.

“Okay,” Ejiro says, “What do you want to do?”

Katsuki thinks, considers choices and options and thinks of where the hell he wants to go right at this moment. He thinks of a spot, and it’s a bit far, but now he’s committed. He sighs, and tells Eijiro where.

To his credit, Eijiro doesn’t question him, just nods, and asks if Katsuki wants help standing up. They leave the gym after that.

Half an hour later they sit across the street from the hospital, ice cream dripping down their fingers.

“This is where I got diagnosed,” Katsuki tells Eijiro, because he’s certain Eijiro knows there’s some significance to the location, but might not know the exact reason.

“Hmm,” Eijiro acknowledges, staring at the large building. It’s wider than it is tall, because it’s a teaching hospital. It’s right next to the university and the different parts of it are spread out across the area. Katsui and Eijiro sit by pediatrics, even if it was technically an offshoot of this building a bit further down that Katsuki was diagnosed in.

This is the place his life ended. It’s also where it finally began.

He hates thinking of his disability as an end, or as a beginning. After all, it wasn’t hEDS that changed. Katsuki always had it, really. What changed was the pain and the way his mother looked at him and how society treated him and the fact that no one would listen when he said he hurt. What changed was that suddenly Katsuki was loved and valued and the next he was considered a subpar human.

He still hates hospitals. He thinks it’s more about seeing his mom fight doctors and his father cry for the first time than it is about losing his mobility. It’s more about the fact that doctors would look Katsuki straight in the eye and tell him he was lying, that there was no way his pain could be that bad, or that he didn’t understand, or that he was faking and exaggerating for attention.

Katsuki looks at the building across the street and wonders just exactly how he got here.

“I think I like Todoroki,” he admits. He takes a minute to observe his dripping ice cream, and takes a lick of it; strawberry flavor, a contrast to Eijiro’s rocky road.

“Yeah?” Eijiro asks.

“Yeah,” Katsuki confirms, “I haven’t had a crush in a long time but,” he sighs, reflecting on Todoroki and how he makes him feel.

“I want to know about him,” Katsuki admits, “Talk to him, learn about him. I don’t- I’m not that way with people. I don’t search for friends, they find me, and by the time you guys have stuck to me I realize even if I wanted to leave, I couldn’t. And that’s worked. I like you, I like my friends. But I don’t search for more, I don't push.

“I want to get to know Todoroki. I want to kiss him and take him on a dumb date and do stupid romantic shit. I want to cook for him and I- I want him to like it.”

Katsuki turns to Eijiro, seaks seriously.

“When I cook for you, when I cook for my friends, I don’t care if you hate it,” he admits, “I like cooking for you, and I like cooking things you enjoy, but I don’t care if you hate it. I want Todoroki to like what I make.”

Eijiro smiles at him, and then he laughs. He laughs again, and again, and then he’s bending over ice cream dripping down his fingers laughing hysterically in front of the pediatrics wing of a hospital.

“What?” Katsuki scowls.

“You’re fucking smitten dude,” Eijiro teases, and Katsuki scowls deeper, bumping with his shoulder as Eijiro shakes his head, small laughs still escaping.

“I’ll admit, I’m surprised,” Ejiro says, “I thought you were crushing on Midoriya.”

Katsuki shakes his head.

“Nah,” he says, “Deku’s different. He’s…” Katsuki reflects, thinks. How can he explain Deku, explain how he feels about him? He doesn’t quite know how to put it into words, because like he said, Deku’s just different. They’re friends now, he thinks, so Katsuki’s not focused on apologizing. Instead, he wants to devote his time to making Deku happy. And not just in repayment. It’s not because he once made Deku so unhappy that he wants to make him happy now. No, it’s because Deku deserves to be happy. It’s because Deku makes Katsuki happy and he wants to do the same for him. It’s because making Deku happy makes Katsuki happy.

It’s because Deku calls him Kacchan with a smile and Katsuki feels like he’s floating even as it irritates him to no end, makes him want to roll his eyes and kiss the dumb nickname off the nerds lips.

Oh.

That would be a crush.

Katsuki freezes, stares at Eijiro as reality crashes down.

“So,” he admits, “I might have two crushes.”

That has Eijro breaking down into laughter again, and this time Katsuki is quick to follow.

“Fuck,” Katsuki says a moment later after breathless laughter, “what now?”

“I don’t know dude,” Eijiro admits, “You know I'm aroace, I have no clue how this romance thing works.”

“You think I do?” Katsuki laughs, “I haven’t dated… ever.”

“Ever?” Eijiro asks.

“I mean…” Katsuki says, “pretty much. I’ve had sex and stuff, but nothing serious.”

There’s not a lot of people who want to date a disabled person, especially a wheelchair user like Katsuki, so he really hasn’t put himself out there much. Plus, he’s introverted and it just- romance really hasn’t been an aspect of his life in the past. He thinks maybe he’s on the gray-aro spectrum but he doesn’t care enough for labels beyond ‘gay’ and ‘queer’ so he leaves it at that.

“Shit dude,” Eijiro says, “Well I have no clue. I guess- you should probably just tell them how you feel. Talk to them, y’know? Maybe get them flowers or take them out or… I don’t know, something romantic.”

“That doesn’t sound like me at all,” Katsuki points out, “Really, flowers?”

“I don’t know!” Eijiro protests, “You’re asking your hopeless romantic aroace friend were literally missing each other at every intersection!”

Katsuki groans and racks his brain for someone he can potentially talk to about this whole romance thing. His parents are out for obvious reasons, and he refuses to go to Denki for romantic advice.

Shinsou is an option but that feels weird and awkward but Katsuki guesses it’ll have to do.

Or maybe it doesn't, he realizes, and comes up with potentially the worst idea he has had thus far in his life.

“Eijiro,” Katsuki asks, “how weird would it be to text my high school mentor slash my roommate's dad for romantic advice.”

“Aizawa?” Eijiro asks, incredulously.

Katsuki groans.

“I knew it was a bad idea.”

“No, no, wait,” Eijiro says frantically, “Didn’t you say he was married?”

“Yeah,” Katsuki confirms.

“Okay, and he has kids?”

Katsuki nods.

“Well… I mean,” Eijiro considers and Katsuki can’t believe he’s fucking considering talking to Aizawa-sensei about his dumb crush. But it sort of kind of makes sense! Aizawa is married, and it seems to be happy and good and gay and mushy. He has two kids and they seemed to have turned out alright- Shinsou’s perpetual emo phase notwithstanding. He knows everyone involved so Katsuki can ask his honest opinion on the people considered and Aizawa knows how much of an asshole kid he was so he’ll be able to help navigate the tricky history he has with Deku. He’ll also be understanding about the poly thing, because he knows Denki and Shinsou have an open relationship.

Plus, above all else, against all odds, Katsuki trusts Aizawa-sensei completely.

He pulls out his phone, pulling up a contact he hasn’t used in a long, long time. With a sigh, he sends a text.

Somehow, two days later he finds himself sitting in Aizawa–sensei’s new house. He’s been to all sorts of people’s homes recently. When did he get so fucking social?

“You finally messaged,” Aizawa notes, as he makes them coffee.

“Yeah, I guess,” Katsuki admits, “uh, sorry about that again by the way.”

Aizawa just shakes his head at him and asks him how he takes his coffee. Katsuki answers and he sits back, thinking, as Aizawa moves around his kitchen. It’s weird seeing Aizawa in his home, just as it was weird seeing Aizawa at Pride, because he’s so used to seeing the man as a mentor figure in his life, as someone he interacted with as a student. Aizawa was always professional, and always non-forthcoming about his home life, a private person, so it feels weird to just be invited easily in.

“Thanks for having me over,” Katsuki remarks, as Aizawa brings coffee to the table and sits across from him.

Aizawa hums in return.

“So why are you here?” Aizawa eventually asks, “Contrary to movie tropes, I am not an omnipotent, all-knowing blind man.”

Katsuki snorts.

“I don’t know about that,” Katsuki pushes, “You always knew exactly how to kick my ass into gear.”

“Yeah,” Aizawa agrees, “because you were struggling with an immense amount of internalized ableism and the self worth issues rolled off you in waves. I didn’t need omnipotence to know that.”

“I was kind of a mess, huh,” Katsuki reflects, before getting straight to his point. “Okay, alright, I’m here to ask you about crushes.”

That has Aizawa choking on his coffee. Katsuki gets a small amount of vindictive pleasure from being able to shock his usually stoic mentor.

“You came to me for advice on romance?” Aizawa asks dubiously.

Katsuski shrugs.

“I’m just as shocked as you, but yeah,” he admits, “You are married,” he points out, “and you have kids.”

“Both of those things were accidents,” Aizawa points out.

“The kids too?” Katsuki asks.

“You have no idea,” Aizawa tells him, which has Katsuki suddenly having many, many questions but that really is not what he is here for.

“Well,” Katsuki says, “accident or not… you seemed to have figured it out… so.”

Aizawa sighs.

“Alright,” he agrees, “What’s up?”

“I have a crush on Todoroki and Deku- Midoriya,” he clarifies.

Aizawa narrows his eyes at him.

“Is this a ‘I can’t make up my mind thing’ or is polyamory on the table.”

“Oh this is definitely a poly thing,” Katsuki confirms.

“Alright,” Aizawa says, “And the problem is…”

“I have a crush- crushes,” Katsuki explains.

“Yes,” Aizawa agrees, “that tends to be a thing people with romantic attraction tend to experience.”

Maybe Aizawa-sensei was not the person to ask about this.

“Yeah,” Katsuki presses, “but what do I do about it?”

Aizawa shrugs, “I don’t know?”

Katsuki blinks.

“You’re not being very helpful,” he admits.

“I’m not your mentor anymore,” Aizawa points out, “I don’t need to be helpful. Now I can just be old and mean.”

Katsuki scoffs at him, and Aizawa sighs.

“Alright,” he says, leaning forward, “You’ve got two options. Tell them, or don’t.”

“Wow,” Katsuki mocks, “You’re really good at this.”

"I try," Aizawa drawls.

This isn't going anywhere.

Katsuki sighs, unsure of how to continue forward.

“Izuku is the same person as that one kid you bullied in elementary school, right?” Aizawa asks.

“Yeah,” Katsuki admits. He had never told Aizawa his real name, not until today, and it’s weird knowing that he’s been so close all this time, that Aizawa has known him for as long as he’s known Katsuki.

“I guess that’s part of it,” he admits, “I apologized and he forgave me but part of me- I don’t want to- I just… I don’t know if I deserve him.”

“I don’t think anyone deserves anyone,” Aizawa admits, “people don’t… deserve each other. They aren’t owed one another. I’ve known Izuku for a while now, Shouto too, and I think it would be pretty dumb of you to let your own self worth issues get in the way of you asking them out.”

“What?” Katsuki protests, “This isn’t about self-worth.”

“Yes it is,” Aizawa counters, “It absolutely is. You’re saying you don’t deserve them, that you are in some way fundamentally less than them. All that does is put them on a pedestal and lower yourself down. It’s the same thing your mom did to you, and now you're doing it to others. But you can’t place people on pedestals. It isn’t healthy for anyone.”

Katsuki stops breathing for a moment, because his worst fear for most of his life is turning into his mother and here is his mentor making a direct comparison between the two of them. The nail in the coffin is that he has a point.

For so long his mom put him on a pedestal, insisted that he was better than other kids, that he had purpose, a future, that he was the best. But he wasn’t the best, he isn’t the best. He fails and he falls down and he makes mistakes and once he started doing that his mom’s views on him had shifted and failure became less about growth and more about feeling horrible about himself. He had stopped seeing mistakes as encouragement to do better, but as fundamental, shameful flaws about himself. His mother continued to be disappointed in him and still today, the rift between them is wide.

It’s exactly what he’s done to Izuku and what he sees himself beginning to do to Todoroki. He sees them as untouchable, as better than him. He sees himself as less and by doing so he doesn’t give them space to make mistakes, to fail. He doesn’t give them room to have hard days and he doesn’t give himself room to have good ones. There’s no space for Katsuki to succeed, for Katsuki to have success in this either. It hurts them all.

Katsuki can’t do this if he keeps ranking people, and that includes himself.

It’s a mindset he’s worked on changing for a long time and these days it has become fairly natural but there’s something about Izuku and something about falling in love that has him regressing in that area.

“Alright,” Katsuki admits, “You might have a point.”

“Always do,” Aizawa points out, because he’s a dick like that. Katsuki scoffs and realizes just how much he owes to this man.

“I think I just need to say something,” he admits, “I’ve held my tongue around all this shit for too long and it’s caused too many issues with Deku and Todoroki already. I just need to tell them, and listen to however they respond.”

“Bakugou Katsuki, communicating?” Aizawa teases wryly, “I never thought I’d see the day.”

“You’re an ass.”

“You came to me,” Aizawa reminds.

Katsuki scoffs, and sets about to leave.

At the door, Aizawa stops him for one last comment.

“Katsuki,” he acknowledges, “I need you to know that you don’t have anything to prove to me.”

Katsuki stills. He turns and faces Aizawa, not quite understanding what he’s saying.

“I helped mentor you for a long time,” Aizawa continues, “And I’ve seen you grow extraordinary amounts. You’ve already impressed me. I’m already proud of you. You don’t have to prove anything to me, and you don’t have to prove anything to anyone else. People see you. I see you. You are enough as is.”

Katsuki sniffles, and then the tears start falling.

“... Are you crying?” Aizawa asks.

“No,” Katsuki chokes out around tears, and Aizawa just stands there.

“Oh, uh…”

“I’m fine,” Katsuki snaps, before Aizawa can somehow make him cry more. In return, he gets a small smile from his mentor.

“Of course you are, problem child.”

Katsuki scoffs, and finally takes his leave. And if he waits for a few minutes loitering in front of Aizawa’s house just for the tears to stop, well it’s not like anyone knows. Aziawa certainly can’t see him out here with how shitty his vision is. No one has to know.

He gives himself a few minutes to cry.

Chapter Text

Next comes actually telling Deku and Todoroki he likes them. He’s not sure what to expect from it all because he’s not even sure if they’re open to opening their relationship even if they are into him. Katsuki knows from speaking to Todoorki before that he considers himself polyamorous on the basis of being a system and navigating a multitude of relationships, but that doesn’t mean that whatever relationship Deku and the alters from Todoorki’s system have isn’t closed. Katsuki’s interested though, in Deku and in Shouto and probably Raika as well so he needs to say something. Whatever answer he gets is okay.

He returns to their apartment. It’s a bit of an awkward space to be because on the chance it goes like horribly, horribly wrong Katsuki’s in a space that isn’t his but it’d be weirder for them to come to his space and he really doesn't want to do this in public so their apartment will have to do.

These past few days Katsuki’s been feeling a little like a pinball, just bouncing around from place to place, heartfelt conversation to heartfelt conversation. It’s overwhelming and strange and he’s hoping that however this conversation goes, everything else around it can start to go back to normal because he’s tired of it all.

He’s emotionally drained and starting to run low and he needs a period of time to just rest.

He’s also a little nervous he’ll get there and it won’t be Shouto or Raika fronting and he won’t quite sure know what to do because he doesn’t want to ask the system to switch because he’s learned that’s really rude but also he thinks they probably should be the ones around considering this is about them but if they’re not fronting when he gets there he’s not sure he can wait and-

Shouto’s fronting when he shows up, so it all works out, and Deku and him invite Katsuki into their apartment. They gather in the living room. Katsuki decides to stay in his chair because if this goes sideways he really doesn’t want to have to do the awkward dance of transferring. He’d like to have the ability to leave as quickly as possible.

Plus, it’s nice to push himself back and forth gently- something he knows he tends to do when he’s anxious. Not that he is. Who is he kidding, of course he’s anxious.

“I need to tell you both something,” Katsuki admits, and waits for their reactions.

They both stiffen and Katsuki realizes he’s given the worst fucking intro to serious topic because how did he expect two people with anxiety and trauma to respond to that? And now they’re both looking tense because Katsuki hasn’t fucking said anything and he’s just fucking sitting there and-

“I realized that I like you guys,” he admits, “In a romantic way. Raika too, I think, we’d have to like… talk a bit. And I don’t expect anything from either of you, but I needed to tell you.”

Todoroki and Deku share a glance and Katsuki knows it makes sense for them to consider together so he does his best not to feel ganged up on. He’s never been in a relationship, or even the attempts of a relationship so he has no idea what any of this is supposed to feel like. He doesn’t know what’s safe, what’s healthy and that’s terrifying.

So he gives it his best and desperately hopes that it’s good enough.

“Oh,” Deku says eventually, as Todoroki continues to look at Deku.

Katsuki waits.

“I just- I’m not sure I understand?” Deku admits. “You like me?”

Deku says it with such disbelief as if it doesn’t make sense, like he can’t comprehend the idea of Katsuki liking him.

“Yes,” Katsuki says instantly, because how could he not?

He thinks back on Deku and him, from childhood. He thinks of Deku asking him if he's ever been to Pride and being blown away that Deku hadn’t been instantly sure he was queer. Because how had he not known? Could he not see the way Katsuki looked at him, even back then? Did he not understand that seven year old Midoriya Izuku’s chubby cheeks and gap-toothed smile was when he first fell in love with a boy?

How could he not have known?

It’s always been Deku. There have been others sure, but not real, not tangible. And now there’s also Todoroki and that’s stronger than anything else has been before. He thinks if Deku was his queer awakening than Todoroki has to be the person who holds his hand, brushes his hair out of his eyes as he awakens, smiles softly as his eyes flutter open. It’s always been Deku, and now there is Todoroki as well.

“I first fell in love with you when you tried to make me a flower crown out of daisies,” Katsuki confesses. “You were five and you were really bad at it. You could only get maybe three or four in a chain before it broke and you started crying because you really wanted to make me one and I ended up having to do it myself.

“I didn’t know it at the time because you were my best friend and we were five and I didn’t know the word gay. And I wouldn’t know it for years later but I still wouldn’t accept it, acknowledge the fact that I knew I was gay when I was five because I fell in love with my best friend.

“It wasn’t until now- until I started speaking to Todoroki- and Todoroki I started talking to you and I started falling in love with the way you told stories even though you can’t tell a story to save your life. And Raika, fiercely protective in a way that just emphasizes how much she cares. The passion in both of your eyes and the fact that you care so deeply about your friends. I want to make you smile and feel warm like you made me feel and I hate that I feel that way around you because it makes me feel silly and stupid like I have a school yard crush and it brings me back to when I was five and had to make my own flower crown because Deku started crying because he so badly wanted to make me one and couldn’t.”

He doesn’t know if what he’s saying makes sense, but it’s the truth. It’s honest and raw and part of Katsuki hates it because he’s always been the tough guy, a hard rock, impossible to touch. He had to be that way, had to be untouchable because his mother made him that way. He had to let the ableism and the bullying he faced at home slide past him. He spent so long making sure the emotional immaturity of his own mother couldn’t hurt him that he’s put up walls so high that hurt himself and others.

But he thinks of the people who have shown him what it means to love. He thinks of Mina falling asleep with him on the couch, of Denki pressing him to fix things with Midoriya. Hanta, who validates and shares symptoms with him, Eijiro who refuses to let Katsuki isolate. He thinks of love and he thinks of gentle softness and he wants to protect that.

Sharp things in the world tend to protect soft interiors and Katsuki thinks that maybe, maybe he doesn’t have to be soft. Not like Deku, and not like Todoroki. But maybe, he doesn’t need to be quite as hard as he has been. He doesn’t have to use his hardness to hurt. Instead he will be sharp and defensive and turn that into a protective force, a shield for those he loves. He thinks that maybe, that can be love for him.

But it starts with honesty.

He thinks of being punk and what that means to him and thinks that maybe love is the most punk thing he knows of, however much the cheesiness of that makes him want to hurl.

Deku’s crying now and Todoroki’s staring at him. Katsuki gulps, and waits for his verdict.

“I told you not to hurt him again.” Katsuki can tell from the tone of voice and the words that Raika has switched in. He laughs, the noise bubbling in his throat in a strange vibrating rhythm.

“I can’t promise that,” he admits, because he is a person and people make mistakes and he is not perfect and people cannot be put on pedestals. But he can try and he can do better when he fails because he is a person and he can change and he can grow.

“Alright,” Raika says, “Then I guess I’ll have to keep an eye on it.”

“What?” Katsuki asks, because he thinks he knows what Raika is hinting at but honestly he’s not sure so-

“I guess I’ll have to date you,” Raika confirms, “Shouto too, he’s totally onboard. Shouto’s absolutely infatuated with you. I’m more into something casual, if that’s good with you. So we’ll have to date you. Just to make sure you don’t hurt Izuku, y’know?”

Katsuki grins. Fair enough, he thinks.

“Hey,” Deku protests, “I can keep an eye on myself!”

“Sure you can,” Raika agrees, brushing him off completely.

“Fine!” Deku exclaims, “then I’ll just have to date Katsuki too!”

Raika smirks, and Katsuki wonders how the hell he tricked them into this.

But it’s not a trick, he reminds himself. It’s the truth, and it’s honest, and it’s their choice because they are not above him, somehow miraculously worth more than he is. They are people, and they cannot be placed on pedestals. Katsuki’s going to have to keep reminding himself of that.

“Alright,” he says, because it sounds more than okay with him.

“How does kissing sound?” Izuku asks, which has Katsuki taking a deep inhale as a rush of joy runs through him.

“Yes,” he says, much too quickly and yet not quickly enough. Izuku smirks, as if he can tell that a simple question made Katsuki lose his breath. Dumb nerd.

“I think I get to kiss him first,” Raika says, “After all, I said yes first.”

“Not fair!” Izuku exclaims, “It should definitely be me because I brought kissing up.”

“Do I get an input?” Katsuki asks, bemused.

“No,” they both insist, and continue to bicker.

Izuku insists it should be him because he brought up kissing in the first place and he said yes last so he’s most ‘recent’ in Katsuki’s mind. Raika protests that their body has two of three people Katsuki’s dating and they said yes first and said they should kiss first.

Katsuki just watches, unsure how he ended up in this situation.

Raika wins, citing the fact that if she kisses him first she can maybe find Shouto to front after even though Izuku protests that they’re horrible at switching by choice and that proves nothing. But after a while, Izuku grumbles into agreement because he’d rather she just kiss him sooner so he can have a turn.

They kiss, Raika and Katsuki, and then Izuku and Katsuki, and then Raika and Izuku because just as Izuku had suspected, Raika can’t get Shouto to front.

It’s not magical or life-changing or any of the things Katsuki has heard about kisses.

He's kissed before of course, but not like this, so he expected it to be different. It’s not.

There's more care, more feelings behind it but the motions are the same and Katsuki finds himself thinking maybe it’s for the best. He thinks that maybe this kiss doesn’t need to be life-changing, or magical, because the amazing part about it is that it’s Raika and Izuku. It’s special and intimate and beautiful because it's them. It'll continue to be special because it’s them. Katsuki will continue to care for them, to fall in love with them because they are who they are.

His life doesn’t alter instantly at one event. Lives change over time, with small and big things accumulating over the course of a life and then one day you look back and you realize your entire world has shifted. He thinks- hopes really- that ten years from now he can look back at this kiss and see it as a beginning, see it as a moment where his life had fundamentally changed and started anew.

But for now, it will just be a kiss.

They talk things out after that, and continue to over the next few days and Katsuki hopes they will continue to for an eternity. There are things to figure out and solidify, but for now they agree that they are dating and in a committed relationship, while still open to others if any of them have interest. Shouto and Izuku are more serious but Raika’s more around for fun, less emotional attachment involved and they all agree that works for them.

Katsuki doesn’t live with them and he has work and his life has not changed, just continued, so he doesn’t see them for the next few days, instead hashing things out over text and trying to match schedules for their first real date.

He finds himself on his phone a lot, texting them, sending dumb memes, and whenever he opens his text app he can’t help but see a name a few rows down. Hesitantly, and unsure, he clicks on the name and sends a text. He doesn't know if it’s the right thing to do, but it feels like it is, so he does.

It hasn’t ever felt right before but in the past week Katsuki has finally started to let go of things. Really, Izuku and Todoroki’s system are just a small part of this. He’s glad they’re dating, but that’s just one aspect of the immense growth Katsuki has shown recently.

He thinks it’s finally time to let go, to face one final beast.

Katsuki ends up going home to his parent’s small house a prefecture over for dinner three nights before his mom is set to leave for Korea.

He wears his favorite Crip Riot shirt and a brace around his ankle. His fingers are braced as well and he brushes his hair away from his ears so his bright orange hearing aids are clearly visible. He decides on his wheelchair and makes sure his handle spikes are in place. A few minutes later, and he’s on his way.

The train isn’t horribly long and it takes him pretty close to his parents house so he doesn’t have to take a bus as well. He texts them that he’s nearby and then pulls out directions because he’s only been to this house a few times since they’ve moved. Distancing himself from them had been done in steps. First, he moved out and only returned on university holidays. Then he got his own apartment and only came home when they pestered him that it had been long enough. Once he had gotten his job and settled into his own insurance, he stopped visiting all together.

He regrets it sometimes, because his dad was never like his mom, but he also had never stopped her. Sometimes he thinks maybe he’s selfish or overreacting because that’s what his mom has always told him but when he tells his childhood to his friends they wince and stare. Katsuki knows it wasn’t okay, and he works on being okay with that. He works on being okay with distancing himself.

This is the first time he’s been home in two years.

He rolls up to his parents house, faintly remembering the look of it and mentally prepares himself for the night. He thinks of past dinners and it's all too easy to slip into memories. He imagines his mother cooking dinner, his father setting the table and washing vegetables as needed. He takes a breath, steadies himself, and moves forward.

And then he stops.

The front of his parent's house has two, low, stone steps.

He laughs.

There’s no anger to it, because there’s nothing left to be angry at. He’s been angry for so long at his mother, that now it has just given way to humor. There’s no anger in him at this moment, just mirth.

His face dances with a smile and he chuckles to himself, leaning back in his chair as he stares at the goddamn steps. He shakes his head and pulls out his phone to take a picture of them to send to his friends, and then to his partners.

Then, he calls his mom.

“I’m here,” he announces the moment she picks up.

“Oh good, I thought you were going to be late,” she tells him, “The doors unlocked.”

“I can’t get to the door,” he tells her.

“What?” she asks.

“I can’t get to the door,” he repeats.

“What do you mean you can’t get to the door?” she snaps and Katsuki can so clearly see her turning off the sink and wiping her hands on her apron or setting down a knife next to a stalk of half cut celery. Maybe it’s simmering broth and she has to put down the spoon and call out to Katsuki's dad to watch it so it doesn’t burn.

He pulls the phone away from his ear and hangs up, staring at the door. Second later, it wrenches open, and his mom stands in the entrance. They’re a good ten, fifteen feet away like this, her at the entrance to the house and Katsuki still on the sidewalk, stopped by two stairs.

She spends a long moment staring at Katsuki. Eventually, she takes a step back, and slams the door. Katsuki waits. He knows his mother, and he knows this isn’t over.

He’s right, and she reappears less than a minute later, Katsuki’s father at her side. She storms out of the house and stands at the top of the two steps, her husband trailing behind her.

“Hi Mom, hi Dad,” Katsuki greets, from where he sits in his wheelchair. He then makes a pointless observation, “You have steps.”

“You’re in a wheelchair,” his mother notes.

“Yeah,” he agrees, “I don’t think you’ve seen this one. I got it a little more than a year ago. Since it’s my second chair I knew a bit more about what I wanted. I really like the orange on this one.”

His mother stares at him, his father a half step behind her.

“It has a lower back too,” Katsuki notes, “and the footrest is better.”

“I- I like the back,” his father notes, and his mother turns on him.

“Don’t encourage him,” she scowls.

“Encourage what?” Katsuki shoots back, “Taking care of myself?”

“Knock it off Katsuki,” his mother huffs, “You know what this will do. The more you rely on unnecessary aids like that the worse it will be for your health. You need to stop being lazy and take this seriously! You could lose your ability to walk completely!”

“So?” Katsuki challenges.

“Oh, don’t give me that,” his mother throws right back at him, “Don’t pretend that I’m saying something out of the box here. Walking is important, you need it. It’s- Katsuki it's a functional advantage and you know that. It’s important to your health-”

“You don’t know a thing about my health,” Katsuki snaps back, “You don’t know a thing about my life. You don’t know how much walking can hurt, how painful it can be and how unsteady I feel on my feet. You don’t understand the freedom my wheelchair gives me, the things it allows me to do and you will never understand because you refuse to listen when I tell you.”

That shuts her up for a second.

Katsuki takes a breath.

“Dad,” Katsuki says eventually, “I can stand on my own, but I would appreciate it if I could use you as support when I walk up the stairs.”

“Oh,” his dad says, “of course, yes, sure.” But before he can take a step forward, his mom throws her arm out.

“No,” she says, “Katsuki, I’m done with your games. Stop milking this and either get up here and in the house, or leave. I’m not entertaining this any longer.”

“I’ve told you the necessary accommodations I need to get in the house,” Katsuki lays out, “I need those met, or yes, I will leave.”

“Mitsuki,” his father begins, “You’re leaving in just a few days, lets-”

“No,” his mother says firmly, coolly, and Katsuki dips his head.

“Alright,” he agrees, and rolls away.

He hadn’t expected anything different. He’s given his mother chance time and time again, and she’s shown her inability to learn, her inability to listen to disabled people- to Katsuki- time and time again. He probably could walk up those stairs himself, but his knee already hurts and he could dislocate it. He could, but that doesn’t mean he should. And even if he didn’t, he’d still be in pain, and he shouldn’t have to explain himself, or give a reason. He shouldn’t have to put himself at risk when simply going to his parents house for dinner.

He refuses to conform just because he’s expected to.

He has a whole world of people who support and love him and Bakugou Katsuki is done telling himself he isn’t worth it- isn’t worth love and undying support. He is a person and he is human and he is trying and he is worthy and deserving of good things. Nothing anyone says will ever change that, even when it comes from his mother. Even when it comes from himself.

Chapter Text

“Why the fuck did we decide on bowling,” Katsuki grumbles.

“- doesn’t like the - - of - tag,” Izuku points out.

“Repeat that?” he asks, as pins clatter in the background and people chat cheerfully. The background noise is hard for his aids to filter out so he’s been relying on mostly lipreading and some signing.

“- doesn’t like the flashing - of laser tag,” Deku answers, which still has Katsuki not following why the chose to go fucking bowling.

“I meant more why did we decide on a middle school birthday party event at all,” he grumbles.

“It’s - I didn't have a childhood,” Shouto pitches in, “and - when I met Izuku and everyone - they made a list of all the things I hadn’t done and places I hadn’t been to and made me do all - of -. Bowling was one of them and now they keep making - do it at - twice a year.”

“Jesus, half-and-half,” Katsuki grumbles, “have a goodman normal childhood, why couldn’t you?”

“I don’t know, - my dad,” Shouto offers, “Probably - something to do with forced arranged marriages, unreasonable expectations of perfection, and eugenics.”

“That wasn't an invitation to trauma dump,” Katsuki scowls, with no actual heat behind it. He had asked. And considering the majority of Shouto’s life was one of trauma, it’s kind of hard for him to talk about things that aren’t related to trauma unless he wants to stick to maybe two conversation topics.

“Whoops,” Shouto says tonelessly, adding a careless shrug and Katsuki just shakes his head.

“It’s your turn Kacchan,” Izuku points out and Katsuki grumbles a bit more but releases his breaks and moves to grab one of the balls. He hasn’t been bowling since he was a kid, way before he got diagnosed and started experiencing dislocations, so he’s had to figure it all out again. Rolling the ball in his chair had been surprisingly easy to figure out, but the harder part has been finding a goddamn ball. The entire point of bowling is that the dumb balls are weighted so it’s been a challenge finding something heavy enough that doesn’t strain his fingers.

So he sighs, grabs the bright purple ball that’s been working for the last two times so far and rolls over to the line. As much as he teases about the activity, he is enjoying himself, mostly because he’s here with friends and good company and well, he’s competitive, so he’s got to at least try to do well.

He’s doing badly because again, he hasn’t done this since he was a kid but at least he isn’t last.

No, that prize goes to Iida who is frankly horrible at the entire thing, and then Ochako who’s spastic limbs make her have to use a lighter ball then Katsuki and unable to aim worth a shit. She has bumpers on, and has instead taken to seeing how many back and forths she can get against them before the ball gets completely down the lane. Katsuki admires the tenacity she has for her new goal. He didn’t know a ball could take that long to travel down a bowling lane.

He knows they look ridiculous, and the invisibly disabled members of their group are getting glares from surrounding people as the two wheelchair users and guy with Down Syndrome come in last on the scoreboard but Katsuki couldn’t give a shit. It’s honestly kind of hilarious to see abled people’s look of horror at the invisibly disabled crew absolutely thrashing them at bowling.

It’s strange to be here, getting along with Deku of all people and actually considering this a day out with his partners.

He gets a gutterball, and then knocks down about half the pins, flipping Uraraka off as she rolls past him, giggling to herself at his failure. Bitch. She gets fucking bumpers, she doesn’t understand the struggle. Shinsou shrugs helplessly from beside her as he carries her ball, and Katsuki smirks at making him the middle man to their bowling feud.

That’s a weird thing too, becoming friends with Izuku and Todoroki’s friends.

He knows Shinsou of course, and their friendship has continued to evolve. Originally he had just been friendly with him because he was Denki’s boyfriend and Katsuki’s new roommate, but they’ve bonded over time and he’s become a reliable gym partner alongside Eijiro.

Katsuki had expected to at least be friendly with Shinsou, but his growing relationship with the rest of Deku and Shouto’s friends has been less expected.

Katsuki has found it easiest to be friends with Uraraka. Like him, she’s competitive and he’s found that they have this easily growing rivalry. Whatever it is, they battle it out, but it’s friendly. Katsuki finds himself enjoying the challenge because so many of his friends are non-competitive even when they might be beating him. Uraraka makes a challenge fun.

Katsuki rejoins his partners, leaning over to give a kiss on Deku’s cheek, who smiles at him in turn. He looks over at Shouto, who’s messing with his hands, gaze fixed on the floor.

“He’s a little disso,” Deku updates him, and Katsuki nods with a hum.

Todoroki blinks over at him for a second- gaze far gone- and knits his brows before returning to stare at the floor, firm frown etched across his face. Deku’s hand trails lightly over his back, a constant reassuring and grounding presence as Todoroki floats, and Katsuki gives them a moment. The system doesn’t need crowding.

He finds himself next to Iida a little while later and he was the hardest for Katsuki to get along with at first, just because of contrasting personalities. Iida’s one for rules and Katsuki’s set on breaking every rule he comes across, but they’ve found common ground in routines.

“Why are you and Ochako fighting over bowling?” Iida asks him, as if he doesn’t already know their pattern of battling over the smallest things.

“She started it,” Katsuki protests, and Iida sighs.

“How’s the event coming along?” Katsuki then asks, which is certain to peak Iida’s interest.

“Alright,” he allows, “But I’m frustrated.”

“Yeah?” Katsuki asks.

Iida’s an outspoken activist for the Down Syndrome community, speaking loudly and proudly about disability rights, ableism, and how people with IDD get left out too often- even when in conversation of disability rights. It’s right up Katsuki’s interests, and so that’s what they connect over. It’s also hard, thankless work and Iida’s frustrated with it just as often as he’s proud and excited about it.

“Yes,” Iida agrees, “the people running it want me there, but they don’t want to listen to me. I’m tired of it.”

Katsuki huffs, slowly becoming familiar with the unique form of frustration Iida experiences when trying to get people to listen to him. Katsuki has some experience as a fellow disabled person, but Iida as someone with an intellectual disability experiences it in a different, crueler way than Katsuki ever has.

“Tenya, it’s your turn,” Deku calls, and Katsuki resigns to finish asking about the events later. Iida sighs and stands, looking at Katsuki forlornly.

“I’m really bad at -,” he admits, and Katsuki laughs as he takes a peek at the scores.

“Yeah,” he agrees, “you really are.”

As he leaves, Tsu slides in next to him, taking a seat and crossing her legs. She then hands him a rock. Katsuki looks at her, because they are inside a bowling alley, but takes it. Of course he takes it.

“Where did you find this?” he asks, because he still has no clue how she got it.

She blinks at him and then looks down at his hand, which holds the rock. She reaches out, curling his fingers gently around it.

“No, I got it,” he confirms, and he takes a moment to slide the rock into his pocket, “I’ll protect it with my life.”

Tsu smiles at him and rocks, flapping her hands as she groans, a long continuous tone that Katsuki can just barely pick up around the clattering pins in the distance. He has a whole collection of rocks from Tsu now, which he keeps safely in a box under his bed. He thought it was maybe something she did for all her friends, but one day Shouto had asked about them and Katsuki had to explain. Apparently it’s something Tsu just does with him. Katsuki doesn’t quite know what to say about that.

It’s been a learning curve for him, befriending someone with little functional language. Katsuki has plenty of non-speaking friends and friends who are fluent in languages he’s not, but Tsu doesn’t have access to that. She rarely uses language to attempt communication at all- in any form- and Katsuki’s had to adjust to that, and learn how to interact with her in other ways. The rocks have become their thing.

He didn’t expect that dating Todoroki and Deku would come with making friends, but it has and he enjoys it. It’s weird, getting outside of this small circle of friends he has had for so long, but Todoroki and Shouto have pushed him outside his comfort zone in the last six months of dating.

That isn’t to say Katsuki has changed completely or he’s suddenly a different person. He’s still introverted, still brash, and still punk. It’s small things that have changed. He’s more receptive. He’s more actively challenging negative thoughts and seeing people fully. He’s working on communicating and following through with others.

He’s trying his best to do good things often.

He’s maybe not a better person, or the best person but people can’t be ranked and it’s starting to become instinct to him, just doing his best because he can instead of doing his best to be the best.

He’s learning. He’s trying. He’s changing.

Their friends want to go out to eat after bowling, but Katsuki’s feeling the effects of the day and running low on spoons so he decides to go home. Shouto joins him, because he’s been pretty out of it and dissociated for the past hour and they both give Deku a kiss and send him on his way. He makes them promise to text him when they get home and Katsuki rolls his eyes but nods his assent.

Even though he said he was going home, he doesn’t actually, instead finding his way back to Deku and Shouto’s apartment. When he says ‘home’ these days, half the time he means their place anyways.

Shouto and him spend a bit of time alone, Raze fronting for a bit to do some self care and shower. Katsuki stays in the living room, lying on the couch and yawning away sleep. He thinks about taking a nap, but it’s already getting late, so he turns on the TV to hopefully find something that’ll be stimulating enough to keep him awake.

A few moments later he falls asleep.

It’s not a long nap, because Todoroki wakes him up half an hour later, coming into the room and settling in the chair next to him.

Katsuki blinks at the motion, yawning, and Todoroki blinks back, slowly, intentionally. Katsuki smiles at the behavior, and calls Soba over. Soba lights up, head pricking up and it pads across the room, placing its hands on the edge of the couch to peer up at Katsuki. Katsuki shakes his head and makes grabby hands for kitty cuddles. Soba smiles, and scrambles onto the couch.

They have to readjust, but they figure it out, curling up on the couch together. Katsuki’s prepared to fall asleep again, Soba curled into his side, when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He sighs, and pulls it out.

He sees his mother's name firmly printed across the screen and he declines it, sending her straight to voicemail. He rolls his eyes and shoves his phone back into his pocket.

Soba gives a blink, tilting its head slightly, attempting to center Katsuki’s phone in the line of sight of its good eye, away from the low vision of its scarred left side. Katsuki tilts it more its way, letting it blink at the messages even though Katsuki’s pretty sure Soba can’t read.

“My mom,” he admits with a scoff, Soba snorts its own displeasure, but neither of them linger on it. Katsuki refuses to let his mom make him feel such a strong sense of anger these days. She’s a nuisance, at best. That’s all he allows her to be to him.

They lay back down together, half-asleep, cuddled together.

Sometime later- Katsuki’s not sure when because time is weird in that half asleep state- Todoroki’s poking his head up and Katsuki stares at him curiously. Soba’s not fronting anymore, just based on how human-like they move, but he’s still waking up and can’t pin who it is yet.

“Izuku’s home,” he mutters and Katsuki nods, smiling into him. Shouto then.

Sure enough, Izuku moves into the living room a little while later and finds them cuddled on the couch, offering them a blinding, cheesy smile as he sees them curled up together. Katsuki scowls as he covers his smile with his hand, though his eyes still betray his delight. Katsuki flips him off.

“Are you staying the night?” Deku asks, and Katsuki considers.

“Sure,” he agrees. Shouto and Deku have separate rooms, because Shouto and various members of the system like their space, but Deku had gotten a bigger bed a while ago because of how often Shouto and Katsuki ended up there as well.

That night, as they do their evening routines, Katsuki can’t help but just watch his boyfriends for a moment, observing their nightly motions. Deku’s fairly preoccupied as he changes his ostomy bag. He cleans his stoma and powders it before letting it dry. Next to him Shouto finishes washing his face before moving to brush his teeth. Katsuki smiles as Shouto uses the kid’s strawberry toothpaste because the mint ones made for adults are ‘too spicy.’

Shouto catches him watching, meeting his gaze in the mirror, not as preoccupied as Deku.

“What?” he prompts, which finally gets Deku’s attention as well, and he raises his own gaze to meet Katsuki’s in the mirror.

Katsuki shakes his head.

“Nothing,” he insists, “Just watching you.”

Deku smiles at him, but Shouto frowns. Over the last few months Katsuki has become familiar with Shouto’s range of emotions and facial expressions, and it’s only that history that has him unworried, unbothered by Shouto's frown.

This is not an upset frown, but one of consideration.

“What if we moved in together?” Shouto asks, and Katsuki’s heart stops.

Deku sputters as well, half finished changing his bag and staring at Shouto.

“You couldn’t have asked that like two minutes later?” Deku presses, and scrambles with the ring seal and bag. Shouto just shrugs at him, and waits for an answer.

“You want to move in together?” Katsuki asks.

“Yeah,” Shouto says, “You stay here often enough. I know it’s a little early, but I don’t mean right away. Your lease renews- when? In four months?”

“You know when my lease ends?” Katsuki asks.

Shouto shrugs. He’s been thinking about this obviously, and from Deku’s response he obviously hadn’t been filled in either.

“Deku?” Katsuki asks and Deku sighs deeply. He doesn’t respond for a solid minute, finishing the bag change first.

As he goes to wash his hands, he finally speaks.

“We’d have to decide if you were to move in here, or if we wanted to get a new place,” Deku notes, “This place is a little small for three people, but rent will also be more reasonable if we stay here.”

“You're serious,” Katsuki presses, and both Deku and Shouto stare evenly back at him.

Katsuki looks back at them, and realizes he doesn’t even have to think.

“All right,” he agrees, “Guess we’re doing this.”

Moving in together, huh?