Archive of Our Own ^beta

"Swan dive off the roof of the building and pray for a quirk in your next life!"

Izuku took a deep breath as those words came to the forefront of his mind yet again, the warm air leaving his lungs forming a soft cloud as it escaped his lips.

Despite how pulverizing those words were, he didn't think about them a lot. Too much had happened the day they were said for them to feel like they mattered, really. The sludge villain, meeting All Might, hell, by the end of that day Izuku had been promised a future where he wouldn't even be quirkless anymore, so did Kacchan's words even really matter? No, for the most part, that bitter, biting comment had surprisingly all but slipped away from Izuku's mind, landing in a dusty pile in the corner of his brain of things far too harsh that had happened to him at far too young of an age.

He really didn't think about it much.

(In all honesty, if he had to guess, Kacchan probably thought about it more than he did.)

Tonight though those words echoed loudly in Izuku's mind, like the clattering of church bells at the stroke of midnight. An old wound Izuku hadn't even known he still bore reopening, yet he couldn't even say it truly hurt him, no, what that stinging wound brought back up wasn't even pain (Izuku knew pain more intimately than anyone else at this point. For a year straight he tore apart his body without hesitation, watching his limbs and flesh dissolve and mutilate all in the name of noble sacrifice and heroism. He had memorized the feeling of what it meant to hurt, to truly, achingly be in pain. He could describe to you the vivid feeling of losing both your arms, and the awful, bile-raising sensation of snapping broken fingers. Now whenever his joints ached and groaned in retaliation of the beatings they had taken Izuku barely acknowledged the feeling. He'd been through worse, put himself through worse even.), it was a constant burning reminder of what he was now, of what he lost, of what had changed.

"Swan dive off the roof of the building and pray for a quirk in your next life!"

For a long time (or at least it felt like a long time, an agonizingly lengthy period, despite it barely being the length of a school year), Izuku would have been able to think back on that comment and brush it off with a soft laugh and slightly bragging smile. He'd had a quirk, one he thought, really, truly thought he'd crafted into something uniquely his own after being gifted it. It's what he'd been told the entire time he held it, that he was the master of it, the one to find the perfect balance of this power, to hold and to tame it and to let it grow to its full potential without ripping Izuku's body apart (How tragically ironic it was that Izuku's body was the thing left, while the quirk laid torn apart, dead, and gone.).

Now though that all felt like a bit of a sick joke. One for all was never his, at least, never his to keep. It was a power made with a greater purpose than just his own, short life. It was there to destroy the own dark injustice that had made it, not to play along with the childish dream Izuku had of being a hero.

(Bitterly though, Izuku couldn't help but feel a little…robbed. Like he'd been promised everything would be different now, that he was allowed to grow attach to this quirk, let it become a part of his very being. And now that it was suddenly ripped away he had to admit he felt a bit…guide-less.)

When Izuku had learned his quirk was slowly but surely disappearing after the end of the war he done his best to not let it pull him down. He kept up with his studies, kept up with his training, still kept up that demeanor that made it seem like his goal of being the world's best hero was alive and well (it wasn't though, no, now Izuku's dream was more or less living on borrowed time. All he could do was try to enjoy what little he had left of it, hold onto every ember and try not mourn too badly when it slipped out of his fingers…)

It had been easier to cope when the embers of One For All were still there, still buzzing in his blood no matter how faint they may be. It was easier to live in denial then, to simply grit his teeth whenever his quirk acted up, continuing to throw himself into battle and rescue situations in hopes to be hit just the right way and have what microscopic remnants of his quirk that still remained splutter back to life (god, he described himself like a damn broken TV-).

Now though Izuku knew it was gone, not a single spark of the previous borrowed power still lingering in his body. He'd been painfully aware of when the last ember fizzled out, an awful, gut-twisting sort of deja vu having rolled over him. That strange sensation of his skin being a little too cold, his muscles lax as if missing a connection, his chest hollow as if a heavy void sat there, as if he was missing something.

Izuku was quirkless again.

As quirkless as the day he was born.

Losing One For All felt like losing a limb (which Izuku felt stupidly childish for even thinking. He'd watched people lose limbs, his classmates, his mentors, HIMSELF. Yet here he was, bitter over losing a power that had never truly even been his, hurt over losing a quirk that's destiny was to defeat one true evil than die peacefully, emotionally wrecked instead of being grateful the people he cared about were fucking ALIVE.), leaving Izuku feeling like he had to learn to walk again, learn to hold things properly again, learn how to simply breathe again. Maybe he was just being unnecessarily dramatic but he had spent months learning to keep that power constantly flowing through him, to make it part of his very being. Now he felt so out of place and off kilter that he didn't even quite know what to do with himself…

Maybe that's how he ended up here, leaning on the railing of an abandoned balcony, his eyes unfocused as he stared out at the night sky, and his whole body cold. After everything that had happened in first year, all of the class chose to stay in the dorms still. Sure, they had the option to stay at home instead, and a few members of the class grew into the habit of going back and forth between the two, but none of them fully left. Something about misery loving company, if Izuku had to say, or the thickness of coven blood.

Regardless, he appreciated getting to stay in Heights Alliance. He loved his mother, don't get him wrong, but the air at home felt weirdly…suffocating nowadays. Even after all this time worry and unspoken words hung in the air, questions that Inko's worried mind wanted answers to, yet those answers were buried in unshared memories Izuku wasn't quite sure if he wanted to unearth again yet. (His childhood bedroom also felt so weirdly haunting. It was a room of pure idolization, from wall, to ceiling, to the damn sheets on his bed. He still admired All Might, don't get him wrong, but the feelings tied to that admiration felt so different nowadays. The childish wonder of seeing the man's face plastered on everything felt…dead. Now, when Izuku saw that face he thought of the man who kept him going through every tragedy that occurred. The person who dropped him into this life yet held his hand through all of it. The person who gifted Izuku his dream yet warned him of the ugly, unspoken strings attached to it. All Might was much more than a hero or a symbol to Izuku now, and the pure, idealistic version of heroism that all but leaked from the walls of the bedroom he'd grown up in was a lie part of Izuku still had trouble facing.).

That being said though, as nice as the familiarity of Heights alliance was, he had to admit the lack of privacy was a bit grating at times. Most days Izuku saw it as a pro, really, it was far more difficult for anxiety to rear its ugly head when Izuku had familiar faces and voices to fight it off (self-deprecation was swept away by Kirishima's friendly praise and shouts of how "manly!" he was, sleepless nights could be spent with the familiar company of Shoto, and as his motivation to take care of himself dwindled Aizawa always seemed to be there right before he hit rock bottom). Sometimes though, the lack of space got to him. The voices around every corner, the eyes always on him (always ready to panic the moment anything seemed wrong. It was an instinct practically bred into them at this point, especially whenever people saw Izuku. Whenever he seemed even slightly off people jumped to make sure he was okay, and worried murmurs spread like wildfire. Maybe he was just being aloof or ungrateful but as nice as it was to have people care for him, all the attention being fixed to him the moment he was even slightly unwell was…overwhelming to say the least.), the random knocks on his door even during the times when all he wanted to do was draw away from the crowds and let himself crumble- he needed an escape sometimes, so this became his place of sanctity.

Heights alliance, fifth floor, dorm room one.

To everyone else in the class it was completely empty, one of the only two male dorm rooms that hadn't been taken up by someone. To Izuku though it became his escape from everything, especially the balcony. It was still rather empty, it wasn't like Izuku turned it into a second bedroom or anything, but if anyone bothered to peak inside they'd see breadcrumbs of Izuku's presence. "Meditation" coloring books with half filled in pages sat on the dusty desktop (the school counselor had told him to try decorating the pages whenever his mind got too loud, especially at night when everyone else was asleep. Izuku had tried, he really had, but they never seemed to help. If anything the endless scratching of the pencils against paper would leave his ears ringing after a while, and the joints in his hands would ache pathetically after a mere few minutes of coloring.), his sweater or school jacket flung over the back of the never-used desk chair, and of course the glass balcony door cracked open, drawing the eyes attention to where Izuku was.

Typically, Izuku would spend his nights sat or laid out on the balcony floor, concrete cool against his back as simply stared up at the stars or the overhang of the roof. He didn't do it every night, but when the world around him felt a little more intangible than usual, his eye struggling to focus, and his body not quite feeling like his own, he would spend a night out here; regrouping, reorganizing his thoughts, coaxing his consciousness back into his body as he simply reminded himself he was truly real and alive.

Part of him wishes that was why he was out here tonight.

(Another part of him knew it was only a matter a time before this day came.)

Tonight, Izuku wasn't laid sprawled out against the balcony floor. No, instead he stood leaning against the bulky white balcony railing. From an outsiders perspective he probably looked rather calm, pensive even, but anyone who knew Izuku probably would have felt their heart drop at the sight. His typically soft, curly green hair was matted down and flat, hanging in his eyes almost ashamedly. All confidence or excitement most would fondly remember Izuku exerting was nowhere to be found, his body lax as his forearms rested on the metal railing, head ducked to partially hide in his folded arms. And most worrying of all, Izuku's eyes were fixed down. He wasn't looking at the stars, or familiar, sprawling treeline lingering just outside the dorm buildings, he was looking down at the concrete resting five full stories below him.

(Concrete. Izuku didn't like how much time tonight he'd spent just thinking about that of all things. It must have been hours now he'd spent staring at the cement pathway that surrounded the UA dorms, eyes tracing the square pattern it was shaped into. Typically he liked coming out here to study the night sky, the stars, the trees- but tonight he couldn't get his mind off of pavement of all things.

Cold, hard pavement that was so, so far away from his feet…

It was like that harsh ground was speaking to him, really, filling his mind with awful, twisted questions he didn't wanna answer out loud. Don't you wanna know what I feel like, Izuku? Don't you wondered if you'd feel the thump before the world went black? Would you swan dive or would you fall flat on your face, graceless till your final moments?)

"Swan dive off the roof of the building and pray for a quirk in your next life!"

As much as Izuku swore he didn't reminisce on those words, he'd be lying if he said they didn't change the way he looked at things. No, from that day onward he couldn't deny the awful feeling of dread that would crawl across him whenever his eyes landed on the tops of the skyline above him. Sometimes he swore the rooftops themselves would call out to him, beckoning him forward, tempting him to test if Katsuki's words rang true. He never did listen though, simply shutting his eyes and covering his ears, trying desperately to not let the morbid side of his mind (the one that never seemed to stop for its own good) summon images into his head of what it would be like to fall from one of those rooftops, the concrete slowly growing more and more detailed as he sped towards it before the whole world stopped.

All that time ago, when Katsuki told Izuku to jump, the green-haired boy told himself he wouldn't care what anybody else had to say, that he'd keep his chin up, that he'd prove them all wrong...

When had he let that hope he had die? That determination, that fierceness. Despite everything he'd been put through, Izuku had been convinced he could fight the world back then (nowadays even getting out of bed felt like an effort Izuku often didn't have the strength for…).

The world around him seemed suffocatingly still as Izuku stood there. Under normal circumstances he may have found the night's stillness and quiet rather relaxing, a breath of fresh air in is normally rather chaotic life, but today it all seemed to function as white-noise that left Izuku a little too tangled up in the catacombs of his own mind.

(Maybe that's why his brain let itself go a little too far. Maybe that's why Izuku's thoughts pushed themselves in a dark, dangerous direction that they hadn't gone in oh so long…)

"Hey nerd."

Izuku knew who that voice belonged to even before he saw their face. Katsuki had changed a lot in the past few years, and his voice was no exception. He spoke softer now, quieter even, lacking that projection he used to force into his every word despite how minuscule they may have been (Katsuki was more genuinely confident nowadays, he didn't feel the need to force it anymore. Back when they were younger Izuku would watch as Katsuki would scream his every word, shouting until his voice was ripped raw from the passion. Part of that was Katsuki's naturally far from quiet personality, sure, but a larger part of it came from the insecurity that used to all but leak out of the other boy. Katsuki would scream out of fear of being spoken over, fear of being ignored, fear of being forgotten, and dismissed, and left behind. It taken years for Katsuki to come to terms with the fact he naturally filled up a room, that he didn't have to scream, and fight, and gnash his teeth to prove he was really there, but nowadays Izuku was frequently blessed with the sight of a soft-spoken Kacchan, the kind that didn't raise his voice at simple things like inviting him to dinner, the kind that could project his playfulness and not just his agitation, the type that would whisper to him softly when he noticed how lost in feelings Izuku was at times, a type of gentle nature that Izuku wasn't sure he'd ever get used to his childhood friend exerting.).

This voice though, this voice embodied all the oddly comforting hypocrisy Izuku had spent the beginning of his life surrounded by. It was rough yet so familiar it soothed part of Izuku's soul. It made dozens of people flinch yet Izuku was drawn to it. And of course it spat hateful, heinous words that many would call unforgivable, and yet-

Izuku turned around to see the owner of that voice without a second thought.

Standing behind him was fourteen year old Katsuki Bakugou, dressed in a black Aldera Junior High uniform, with an unforgettable snarl on his face. (Back in first year Izuku probably would have freaked out at the sight of a younger version of his childhood best friend suddenly appearing, devolving into painc-y mumbles of theories as to how the doppelganger was even there. A cloning quirk? Time travel? A villain who stole a version of Katsuki from his memories and made him real!? It made Izuku laugh almost, to think about how much conspiracy his younger self would have undeniably devolved into. Nowadays though, Izuku didn't really question the weird things his brain came up with to cope with everything that had happened. Maybe having One for All simply desensitized him to seeing manifestations of people who weren't really there, or maybe it had to do with all the times he swore he could see versions of Tenko lurking around him from the corner of his eye. Regardless, Izuku was well aware this version of Katsuki wasn't real, but he entertained its presence nonetheless, knowing the younger was probably a manifestation of some of his thoughts or memories…). The young blonde's eyes stared at Izuku with an awfully familiar kind of distaste-filled gleam in them, staring at him as if, even now, grown and far stronger than the weak, scrawny eighth grader he had been, Izuku was still nothing more than soot under Katsuki's shoe.

And yet Izuku could get himself to do little more than smile tiredly at the sight of the other boy, the corners of his lips still upturned with a soft sort of fondness he always had for Katsuki.

"Hey Kacchan…"

"Tch, took you long enough to realize I was here." The blonde scoffed, stepping closer till he leaned on the barrier right beside Izuku. Only, unlike the green-haired boy, young Katsuki stood with his back against the railing, staring at Izuku out of only the corner of his eye, his body facing back towards the empty dormitory.

For a few moments Izuku said nothing in response to Katsuki's words. There was part of him that wanted to, (that innate, curious part of him that never seemed to die no matter how many people, or things, or traumatizing experiences tried to beat it out of him), part of him that wanted to know how long this not quite real version of his childhood best friend stood there just…observing Izuku, staring, watching as the green-haired boy wallowed in the melancholy of his own thoughts. Izuku had a weird feeling it be longer than most would have expected…

Instead of questioning that though, Izuku quickly found his mind getting lost in the simple act of studying Katsuki. It wasn't like Izuku hadn't seen the other boy recently or anything (in fact, after the war and the time spent in the hospital together, Izuku and Kacchan had grown into the habit of being all but clipped to one another sides. It was uncommon to see one without the other nowadays. They ate breakfast then went on morning runs together, they sparred as a pair then patched one another up, and at night Kacchan often went out of his way to seek out Izuku and tell him goodnight, almost as if making sure the green-haired boy knew where he was, knew why they were apart, knew he was okay. Even when in groups of people Izuku found himself subconsciously taking seats that were always right beside Kacchan, he loved the feeling of being able to feel Katsuki's warmth right by his side, and he'd always reach for Kacchan's hand when crowds got a little too large for his anxious mind to feel safe in.), but there was something about getting to see the younger version of Katsuki again, middle school Katsuki to be specific, that left a strange feeling of warmth blooming in Izuku's chest.

Izuku had always had a habit of staring at Katsuki, even back when they were just toddlers, it was like his eyes were perpetually drawn to the other boy. Katsuki had always had a talent for drawing attention to himself, radiating light brighter than the sun itself. So many people found that light obnoxious, repulsive even, an acquired taste that never quite sat right on the tongue, but was a familiar enough, complex sort of bittersweet that people grew fond of. Izuku though had always marveled at the complexity of Katsuki, completely and utterly mesmerized by it. Even when he'd been pushed away and told to stop looking Izuku caught himself sneaking glances and writing notes about the other boy in the margins of his hero notebooks.

So, even after spending what could have been hours with his gaze fixed to nothing but the concrete dozens of feet below him (concrete that he swore called out to him just like a siren would, promising the one thing he wanted most: peace and quiet in his own mind, contentment in a situation where he'd quite literally had his dreams placed in his hands until they slipped through his fingers and burned him on the way out-), Izuku's exhausted green eyes lifted themselves to study Katsuki instead. It'd been so, so long since Izuku had seen middle school Katsuki. Maybe it was a strange thing to say, noting the kinds of interactions that laced Izuku and Katsuki's middle school years, but Izuku couldn't help but think how…young and soft this version of his best friend looked. The war hadn't been kind to any of them (fucking hell, his one classmate was missing part of her ear and Aizawa had cut off his own leg at one point-), but seeing a version of Katsuki so…untouched by the cruelties of heroics was so nostalgic in a way that made Izuku's chest heavy.

The thinner frame, the un-scarred face and arms, the way this version of Katsuki still lived with a sneer on his face (not yet aware that time and safety were such painfully fleeting things and that you had to let people in eventually, otherwise you'd lose the chance, or far worse, lose them…). He was like pure nostalgia incarnated, and if Izuku hadn't been painfully aware the other boy was just a manifestation of his own thoughts, he might've even given in to the way his palms itched to reach out and touch the other boy…

(Somewhere, quietly, in the back of his mind, Izuku marveled at his brain's own ability to recreate Katsuki like this. Not a single thing was out of place, every fleck of crimson in his pupils, every hair on his head, every pore of his skin. maybe it was a little embarrassing to say Izuku had stared so much that even now, years after junior high, he still remembers this version of his best friend so vividly, but he was too caught up in admiring to care.)

Seemingly fed up by the silence, or annoyed by the way Izuku's eyes lingered on him, the young version of Katsuki huffed slightly, crossing his arms over his chest. "The hell are you doing up here anyway?" he scoffed, disinterest vivid in his tone.

Izuku hummed in response, his gaze lingering on the contours of Katsuki's face a moment longer before Izuku finally pulled his gaze away, "I'm just…thinking." He stated, cringing a little at the sound of his own voice. He remembered how expressive he used to be, pitch raising up a little whenever he got excited, splutters leaving his lips when he was flustered, throat choking up whenever he cried. Shoto and Uraraka used to call it charming, finding the way Izuku wore his heart on his sleeve wonderfully authentic. Nowadays though Izuku found it so hard to bring that emotion to the surface. It was like at some point his emotions hit a wall, not quite ever reaching his body and instead lingering as but a glint in his eyes. He remembers being proud of that in first year, being proud of the fact he hit a point where he stopped crying whenever he was overwhelmed, not wanting to be known as a "crybaby" like he had been during the sports festival.

(And now look at him, he could stand there, contemplating if he should die or not without shedding a single tear.)

(God, the tings he'd sacrifice just to feel like his feelings were actually in his own body again…)

Unimpressed, Katsuki rolled his eyes in response to Izuku's words, "Tch, I can see that, dumbass!" It was quite clear he craved more than Izuku's flimsy explanation, grumbling, "All you fucking do is think! Just tell me what about before you start muttering to yourself and I have to slap you to get you to shut up."

Izuku let out a soft huff, words teetering on his tongue as if debating if he should say them or not. Part of him swore that when he was younger he was good at this, good at opening up about his feelings, being able to tell people like his mom or his teacher what was going on in his head. The longer he thought about it though, the more he wondered if he'd ever had been able to turn his emotions into words. He remembers being six and talking more to the All Might posters in his room then his mother about his dreams of being a hero, not wanting to watch Inko go misty eyed and politely imply he should dream a little smaller as to not disappoint himself. He remembers covering bruises and scrapes in school cause he didn't wanna tell the teachers he was getting picked on, not wanting to prove that he did need help and was weak just like he'd been told over and over again. And even when he first met All Might, he remembers hiding his exhaustion from his idol, not wanting to admit he was practically working himself to death just to make sure he was ready to inherit One For All, that he was so insecure and convinced he was unworthy that he had to keep training 24/7 just to soothe his own anxiety.

Izuku was smart, strategic, and had a mind made for writing analysis and putting his ever moving thoughts on paper. But when it came to his feelings Izuku always just…blanked.

(Katsuki had always been the same way, so passionate and unironically skilled with words, a shocker to any of their unsuspecting classmates who would randomly pick up one of his essays, yet utterly unable to truly convey his own feelings. Their fight at Ground Beta had been a prime example of that, Katsuki unable to get even a fraction of the thoughts locked in his own head out until his fists were flying. Izuku would never say it was his favorite trait of the other boy's, but he liked how well he knew the other, how he'd come to know the ways Katsuki would cope when being overwhelmed by his emotions, and how at times Izuku swore he was the only person in the world that knew how Katsuki was feeling, Katsuki included.)

Before Izuku could even attempt to unscramble the thoughts in his mind, let alone put them into words, Katsuki spoke for him, the words so sharp and blunt Izuku swore they cut right through the peaceful night air around them.

"Thinking about what, how you lied to me?"

Izuku blinked at the accusation, instinctively standing a little straighter, knuckles tensing around the banister of the balcony railing.

"How I what?" He questioned, voice a little shaky as he spoke.

He'd…lied to Katsuki? No, that didn't make sense. Never had Izuku intentionally told a lie to the other boy, at least, not a malicious one. Sure, for a long time their relationship hadn't exactly been very stable, hell, for years most of what Katsuki told to Izuku was some sort of lie; "I hate you, Deku", "useless Deku", "you'll never be a hero" (Izuku had always known Katsuki never meant what he said. Maybe to some people it had just been some sort of childish naivety or hope, especially noting the blonde often accented his hurtful words with even more hurtful actions, but from the very beginning Izuku had always known every hateful word or insult spat like venom wasn't genuine. And maybe, in a weird sort of backwards way, that knowledge, that faith in Katsuki's true feelings and intentions, was one of the few things that kept Izuku from pushing himself off of that rooftop when he was just fourteen.). But despite all that Izuku had always, always been that honest one in their dynamic. He never hesitated to praise Katsuki even when the other boy told him off for it, when he got to UA he stopped biting his tongue and told Katsuki when he was fed up with the blonde's attitude, and even when he was given secrets he was told to only share with his grave he still let them slip to Katsuki (sorry All Might). When it came to Katsuki, it was like honesty came to Izuku involuntarily, really, and the green-haired boy couldn't remember a time he had fought that instinct.

Yet apparently he had..?

Katsuki turned his head a little, allowing him and Izuku to look eye to eye properly this time. The young blonde's eyes laved over Izuku, quickly flickering across him before he sneered a little, as if in disbelief that Izuku even had to question what he was talking about.

"You told me you were gonna beat me in becoming the number one hero. Now you're back to being a quirkless loser."

Katsuki's words left Izuku frozen for a moment, yet again stinging so sharply Izuku swore they could cut. Only this time they didn't slice apart the peace of the air around them, no (that was still shattered on the ground around them, tiny fragments of quiet solitude that Izuku could have continued to wallow in and lie to himself saying he enjoyed), instead they dug directly into Izuku's skin, echoing in his mind so piercingly the green-haired boy swore they must have stabbed directly through his eardrums just to hit the most vulnerable parts of his brain.

Oh…so he had lied to Katsuki.

(All but immediately Izuku's brain began to bring foggy details from an all too familiar memory to the surface; washed-out hospital lights, the scratchy feeling of bandages against his skin, the sight of Katsuki crying the most earnest tears Izuku had ever seen…)

He'd promised the blonde a future; a lifetime worth of competition, of companionship, of chasing after one another.

And yet Izuku couldn't give that to him anymore. He'd lied to Katsuki, he had been lying to him for years. He fumbled the very promise their relationship was built off of…

(For a brief second Izuku's eyes fluttered back to the concrete below him. Maybe he should get this over with before the guilt killed him first-)

Izuku's lack of response seemed to only annoy Katsuki further, the blonde-haired boy rolling his eyes and tearing his gaze away from Izuku. "Should've expected it, always messing everything up, aren't you, Deku? Face it, you were never meant to be a hero."

Izuku's nails scratched uselessly at the metal railing beside him, as if attempting to dig into the polished surface and leverage himself some kind of little safety or comfort as Katsuki's words threatened to send him spiraling. Yet of course as the tips of his fingernails failed to find purchase in the smooth metal, Izuku knew he was doomed, forced to simply sit there and listen with nothing to ground himself as his mind projected his insecurities through the mouth of the person he trusted most (And even worse, a version of Katsuki Izuku could vividly imagine saying those things. Without a single ounce of doubt Izuku could remember what it was like to hear Katsuki spit the word "Deku!" at him every single day in that scratchy, slightly too high middle school age voice. Izuku could remember every hurtful word that spilt from those lips he silently wished would bring him comfort. He remembered not believing them though knowing, deep down, no matter how many times they were repeated, that Katsuki never hated him. Izuku also remembered being told not to think that though, that he was too empathetic for his own good, and that Katsuki meant every bitter, sharp word he sent his way. And, maybe he was just weaker now, but Izuku was worryingly starting to agree with those people who warned him. Maybe they were right, maybe Katsuki did hate him, maybe the blonde found Izuku ignorant, and clingy, and truly irritating, or maybe, worst of all, Katsuki was right. Maybe he wasn't spitting insults, maybe he was spitting truths. Truths that Izuku was too stubborn to accept and that grown-up Kacchan was too sweet to say to Izuku's face anymore.).

The most upsetting part was that Katsuki was right, Izuku wasn't meant to be a hero. Hell, he was so unfit to be a hero that his very biological code, his very bone structure, told him he couldn't be one (or maybe it warned him he shouldn't be one, perhaps his DNA knew how unfit he was for all of this, how he'd break himself apart for some pipe-dream and be left with little more than a collection of scars and memories that would haunt him at night). The green-haired boy remembered spending years fighting against that idea, that notion that he couldn't be something great cause of how he was born. Now though it was obvious to him, he never achieved greatness while quirkless, he became a hero on a lucky break, being the right stupid kid, at the right time, with the right instincts (or, more so, the right stupid heart that bled the moment anyone, especially Katsuki, was in danger) to impress All Might. Now though he was back to square one, burdened by the knowledge that without a power he truly was doomed to be nothing.

If he was lucky he could find some way to get himself to settle, make a living analyzing quirks, or working in tandem with the support course, maybe if he was really lucky (or pitied) UA would even let him stick around till he graduated, helping out the same way Mirio did when he'd lost his quirk while saving Eri.

Part of Izuku wondered if that would be worse though, settling. Watching all of his friends go off and become something great, live the dream they'd all shared together as teenagers, while he was forced to sit on the sidelines, nothing more than a helping hand (if he were lucky) or a cheerleader hoping to hide his envy of their success.

It would hurt, he thinks, imagining the spot he could have had beside them all being filled. Uraraka and Iida would find a different person to be their third during patrol, Shoto would grab lunch with someone else, and some other person would take the spot of Kacchan's hero partner (and fuck Izuku hated that so much more cause he knew that person would have to be incredible. Katsuki's standards were high, he needed a person who could keep up with him, who's drive and craving for victory matched his own, who knew not to get in his way but knew how to challenge Katsuki well. Izuku had always considered himself special for getting that spot early, for cementing himself as Katsuki's future partner before anyone else did, but now, with any hopes of that dead at his feet, all Izuku could hope for was that Katsuki still had at least a sliver of room left for him in his life after finding a replacement.)…

Izuku let out a shallow breath, hating the fact that Katsuki could leave him choking on air from a mere few sentences. He wasn't sure how to reply, but he hated leaving those words of all things to be the ones hanging in the air. So, meekly he shrugged, "Maybe I wasn't…" He murmured, eyes tracing the grounds of the dorms so far below them. He didn't have the energy to fight Katsuki on this, especially not a middle school age version of the blonde (he truly was a firecracker at that age-) who was merely feeding into the self doubt Izuku's mind was already screaming at him.

"It was…nice while it lasted though." Izuku said, tone dreamy yet almost downcast, reminiscent even. "Nice" was an understatement, really, his time as a hero had been short-lived yet it had been a whirlwind. He'd suffered, he'd saved people, he'd been admired by all of Japan, and he'd watched people die in his name. It was like he lived every part of the heroism experience at once really, yet despite all the pain, the uncertainty, the harsh reality checks that scared Izuku in too many ways to count, if Izuku was offered to do it all again he would in a heartbeat.

Katsuki seemed surprised by Izuku's words yet for a moment didn't say anything in response. It was strange really, uncanny almost to see the typically fiery middle schooler so quiet as he sat there in thought. Izuku watched as Katsuki's eyes drifted down to where his own had been, crimson red pupils fixed down at the cement Izuku was intimately aware was there.

"…Are you gonna do it then?" Katsuki asked rather suddenly, words impatient almost as he spoke. His gaze, burning hot and piercing as always, flickered between the floor deep below the balcony and Izuku's own feet. It was a subtle look, one most wouldn't notice, but like always Izuku was obsessively aware of Katsuki's every action, even things as minuscule as the way his pupils moved. In that moment though, part of Izuku wished he hadn't picked up on it, wished he'd been blissfully ignorant of the way Katsuki seemed to try and direct him with his eyes.

(Direct him down towards the ground five stories beneath them. Somewhere, in the back of Izuku's mind, he heard something about swan dives uttered yet again…)

Not wanting to assume the worst, Izuku swallowed thickly, doing his best to play ignorant "Do what…?" He asked tone coy, almost innocent.

(Nowadays, when Kacchan heard that soft sort of innocence in Izuku's tone, Izuku would be able to watch the way the blonde hesitated before telling him anything. It was clear to the green-haired boy that Katsuki wanted to preserve whatever little bit of innocence Izuku had left, not cause he didn't think Izuku could handle it, no they'd both accepted they were at one another's level nowadays, toe to toe in an almost identical way, but because he didn't want Izuku to suffer anymore, to have to think about or cope with anymore terrible news. It was a subtle sort of softness Izuku liked a lot more than he'd admit out loud… )

Katsuki scoffed yet again, clearly not buying Izuku's faux-innocence for even a second. "Jump, obviously." He stated so blatantly the words made Izuku's blood turn almost cold. The blonde then tilted his head at Izuku before sneering at the other boy, a look almost akin to disgust reflected in his eyes. "Don't tell me you're too much of a goddamn coward to do that too."

Izuku knew he should have expected it, knew that he of all people should not have be caught out guard by the way middle school age Katsuki could hiss out the most hating of words without flinching, but those two statements back to back hit Izuku so hard part of him wondered if the cement below would have been softer.

"I- I didn't-" Izuku stuttered on his words, tongue suddenly feeling useless inside his mouth.

It was always so uncanny to Izuku when words like that were said out loud (though, he was still well aware this version of Katsuki was nothing more than a work of his overactive imagination. The sudden appearance and strangely familiar feeling of his brain running on autopilot gave that away.). His entire life those thoughts were the ones he'd been trying to silence, hide even, run away from despite the fact they were in his own head. Whenever situations got a little too overwhelming, a little to unfairly challenged, a little too much like they were gonna drown Izuku the green-haired boy always made himself face them with unyielding, head-strong determination otherwise…those thoughts would creep into his head. The ones that questioned why he was doing this, questioned if he really thought he would ever succeed, questioned if he should just bury himself before the world beat him to it.

He hated the idea of being seen as weak, of being born weak, of weakly surviving, and dying helpless. Maybe that's why part of Izuku was always convinced it was just better to die a paradox: If he were the one to kill himself, was he weak or was he strong? Was he the predator or the prey?

(Maybe he just needed to see a goddamn therapist-)

Yet despite the desperate way Izuku had tried to scream over those thoughts in his head, Katsuki had been the one to verbalize them. To say those debilitating words out loud. To make them impossible to silence in the echo chamber of Izuku's mind.

(Yet again, for the millionth time that night, Izuku heard those faint words that had been buried in the back of his mind for years, "Swan dive off the roof of the building and pray for a quirk in your next life!")

Izuku oftentimes internally thanked himself for how stubborn and frustrated he felt that day, for how much happened to distract him away from Katsuki's words, for the fact that his need to save others outweighed his self-hatred. Yet tonight it felt like all those thoughts he had tried to hide were finally slinking back into the forefront of his mind, sinking their teeth deep into his veins and poisoning him from the inside out…

Izuku closed his mouth uselessly, eyes averting from Katsuki. He couldn't say he didn't come up here to jump. That'd be a lie, and he never lied to Katsuki. (Or at least he couldn't do it again.)

Katsuki raised an accusatory brow, seemingly displeased by Izuku's lack of response. He crossed his arms even tighter over his chest, "Oh come on, you know you wanna do it. Stop pretending I'm insane for just finally saying it out loud. We both know what you were gonna do before I showed up."

A bitter expression crawled across Izuku's face. He wanted to fight back, wanted to claim he was stronger than that, wanted to prove this mocking, caricature of his favorite person wrong…but he couldn't.

He wanted to jump. He wanted to make his mind shut up. He wanted to stop waking up every morning staring at his dorm room ceiling, wondering if today would be the last day UA would pity him enough to let him stay. He wanted to stop feeling so goddamn cold all the time without his quirk. He wanted to stop seeing all the hurt in his friends eyes whenever they just looked at him. He wanted to stop unconsciously grabbing at things with blackwhip or zoning out cause he assumed danger sense would keep him safe. He wanted to stop tearing up at the sight of trading cards or specific limited edition t-shirts cause they reminded him of when his best friend fucking died.

He wanted it all…to stop.

If the world went quiet for a few long, long days maybe Izuku could catch up. But things just kept moving, people kept changing, life kept growing more complex. He kept growing up and Izuku felt like he was so, so many steps behind.

Limbs shaky, Izuku leaned his upper body over the side of the railing, eyes tensed shut as he tried to get his uneven breathing under control. He felt like he was out of breath, like there were hands tensed around his heart, squeezing it from either side as it throbbed in his chest. Was this what it was like right before you sobbed? Was he having a panic attack? The green-haired boy could barely remember either feeling to be honest, the sensations lost somewhere in the sea of memories he was trying to coax himself into forgetting and the months of floating, wandering aimlessly through life, wondering who he was without a power to attach his name to.

Maybe it was pathetic to say but Izuku couldn't do this.

He couldn't handle the listlessness of not being a hero, yet he also couldn't handle the burden-like memories that had come from being one. God, he truly was useless, huh?

Izuku was pulled out of his thoughts by the soft sound of the boy beside him grunting. He blinked for a moment, having been buried so deep inside his own thoughts it was if he had to dust himself off after coming out of them, before his eyes returned to Katsuki.

Katsuki had migrated from just standing beside Izuku and leaning on the balcony railing. Now he'd pulled himself up to sit on the metal banister, not an ounce of worry for his own safety or care for if he fell reflected in his eyes (though, Izuku doubted he even could fall, let alone get hurt, noting he quite literally seemed to be made from Izuku's own overactive brain.). For a moment Izuku wondered where the blonde's sudden choice for the change in position came from, but the moment Izuku felt his own palms itch with the urge to hike himself up onto the top of the railing as well he understood.

Katsuki was tempting him, luring him along through every part of the process, getting Izuku to quite literally tiptoe closer and closer to the edge. The blonde (and his own stupid subconscious) knew just how instinctual it was for Izuku to follow Katsuki's every move and he hated it (hated that, even as he stood there, trying to keep his feet anchored to the balcony floor, it was like the pads of his feet burned to hang loose and free like Katsuki's did…)

With Izuku's eyes now thoroughly locked on Katsuki again, the blonde seemed to take it as an open invite to talk once more. (It was quite the one way conversation, Izuku noted, as Katsuki seemed to be the one far more interested in speaking. Though, Izuku didn't quite know if this counted as him talking to anyone at all, really, noting the whole "mental projection of the shitty, abusive version of his best friend" thing.). "Gimme one good reason you're still stood here, Deku. To waste more people's time? To take up more space?" Katsuki sneered, upper lip raised into a slight snarl.

Izuku pressed his own lips into a thin line before he spoke, "Cause I'm a hero..?" He supplied weakly, though his tone was so unconvincing not even he himself believed it.

He knew the real reason he was still stood here. It wasn't cause he was stubbornly determined like when he was younger or filled with drive like he had been in his first year. It was cause he was a coward, too scared to take that final step over the edge, too scared to learn what would happen after he was gone (he prayed there would be no after life, not cause the idea of living in an endless void was more comforting, though he had to admit the idea of no longer having to think was genuinely a blessing, but because there were so many people he didn't wanna look in the eyes if he really did jump. Nighteye, Midnight, the past users of One For All- hell, part of him even wondered if Tenko would be disappointed in him for just…giving up.), too hurt by the idea that the world may never change when he's gone….

Katsuki's scarlet eyes narrowed at Izuku, making it clear he saw right through the deceitful words (of course he did, Izuku didn't expect anything else, really.)

"You're not a fucking hero, Deku. You never will be, not again at least. You wasted your goddamn chance, so just jump already."

Izuku swallowed sharply.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind he swore he could hear the faint voice of his own younger self as well, a voice that seemed to shuffle between every era of himself as it did its best to call out in a panic. "What are you doing?" Izuku heard that tiny, five year old version of himself call out, voice watery and broken, tone just as shaky and unsure as it had been when he asked his mother if he could still be a hero the day he learned he was quirkless. "Don't do it!" That voice of himself was older now, elementary school age, speaking out timidly, so used to being spoken over by its peers but still trying so hard to save others. "You- you can't give up! We can still be a hero. We were always meant to be a hero!" And that final version of himself, himself from middle school. God, when did he lose all that strength? How had he managed to look Kacchan, and All Might, hell, the entire fucking world itself in the eye and tell them he would still be something great despite being born to fail? The determination inside him back then burned so bright he swore he blinded even himself at times, and now Izuku wondered if that light had died with One For All as well.

(When Izuku was younger, lost in the naivety of his first few morbid thoughts, he always told himself he wanted to die heroically. In a house fire maybe as people he rescued were taken out of his barely held up arms by an EMT, or drowning in a river as he held someone else's head above water. To him that was a righteous way to die, a noble way even. If he died like that his final thoughts wouldn't be filled with regret, they'd be filled with pride, comfort even, the comfort that came from the knowledge he died saving someone else, died being a hero.

How pathetic it was he ended up here then, teetering on death's doorstep, all cause he couldn't cope with the idea of not being a hero any more.)

Had he become too reliant on his quirk? Was he stronger back then? Or had reality just finally hit him? Did Izuku finally learn what it meant to be a hero, that you needed to be able to let yourself be torn apart over and over again if you wanted to help people, and that when you were born quirkless you just couldn't do that?

Did Izuku finally learn he was robbed the day he was born, and while All Might had given him the opportunity to delude himself and see how great he could have been, he was always doomed to end up back here?

"Just a quirkless loser." Younger Katsuki's voice echoed in his ear. And, faintly, Izuku swore he heard his own middle school voice shrink down as it repeated the sentiment, "Just a worthless, quirkless loser…"

For the first time in what Izuku swore must have been months his eyes burned with real, proper tears. Fuck, when was the last time he cried? The hospital room with Katsuki? When he comforted Uraraka after Toga's death? The anniversary of the war? When he woke up in the middle of the night to that awful, bone-chilling feeling of knowing he was now quirkless? (The saddening truth was that it had been that last one, but just barely. Despite how devastating and borderline world-shattering it had been to finally know his quirk was gone, Izuku hadn't cried at first. He'd just….sat there for a while, staring at the scarred palms of his hands, reveling in the feeling of emptiness, questioning if this was all some awful nightmare he'd wake up from.). Katsuki's words seemed to carve all those repressed emotions out of his chest though, pulling his skin apart and prying his rib-cage open, heart spluttering as his feelings all but poured from his chest.

Even through blurred vision, Izuku could see the way the tears from his eyes fell down onto the concrete far, far below him. Part of him wondered what kind of mark they made, if any at all, the distance and the dark around him keeping him from knowing.

(An even sadder part of him wondered if his blood would stain the cement any darker, or maybe the marks would be indiscernible from one another, minus a slight undertone of scarlet.)

Despite the tears he let fall down his cheeks, Izuku choked back the urge to sob. He already felt embarrassed enough letting himself cry, even without anyone (minus Katsuki's artificial eyes) to watch him. As euphoric as sobbing sounded in that moment, Izuku had a feeling it would just leave himself feeling even more pathetic (and god forbid one of his stray classmates that was still awake heard him-). So, he simply stood there, body limply leaning over the balcony railing, fat, hot tears running down his scarred and freckled cheeks, and not a sound escaping his throat except for shaky, unkempt breathing.

Never before had he felt so, so far from a hero. (Like someone who desperately needed saving from themselves.)

As Izuku let himself cry though he couldn't shake the uncanny weight of Katsuki's gaze on him, those judgmental red eyes glaring at him so viciously Izuku was convinced the younger boy was trying to bore a hole into the side of his head. Part of him wanted to look over at Katsuki, to have the courage to lock their eyes, even out of just the corner of his vision, but Izuku had the terrible, terrible feeling that he had grown so fragile that even just seeing a hint of malice in those whirlpools of red would have done him in. (Nowadays he was so, so used to losing himself in those eyes as a way to feel safe, to escape from the world around him. He could let everything around him fade to white-noise and static and simply pretend the only thing that needed his attention was the pupils of Kacchan's eyes. He didn't need to think about the uncertainty of his future, or the constantly worried demeanor's his friend's seemed to perpetually wear, or the perpetual weight on his chest that was so heavy it'd make an elephant tremble- no, all he had to do was count the flecks of maroon in Katsuki's eyes, and memorize the way that gorgeous color would shift slightly under different lighting, and maybe even pout for just a millisecond every time the world committed the travesty that was making it mandatory for Kacchan to blink, rudely interrupting Izuku admiration).

(Maybe that's why Katsuki's words stung so much more than they used to though, why Izuku was so fixated on every minute action that came from the other boy despite knowing they'd all be malicious, why he instinctively had to keep reminding himself that this Katsuki wasn't real and had been made to hurt him. Cause Izuku…took everything Kacchan said or did to heart nowadays. Long gone were the times when Katsuki's true feelings towards Izuku were hidden under malicious words or biting sneers. These days, whenever Izuku did something impressive the pride in Kacchan's eyes would shine brightly. The blonde would spit competitive, playful trash talk like always, but at the end of training battles Izuku would be rewarded assurance Kacchan admired his every move. And fuck Kacchan constantly, constantly, made sure Izuku wasn't too deep in his own head. The green-haired boy swore the blonde could read his mind at times, as Kacchan always seemed to know just the right thing to say to stop the rabbit-holes of self-doubt in Izuku's mind from being dug a little too far.

This version of Katsuki though buried any speck of care deep, deep below the surface, so far that Izuku wasn't quite sure he had the energy to dig for it anymore. Leaving Izuku here, drowning in all this bitter 'hatred' spoken by a voice he'd grown used to believing every word of. It left his brain suffocatingly full, filled with the deceitful idea that maybe this version of the blonde was right, maybe Katsuki hated him, thought he was useless, wanted him to jump… )

Katsuki's piercingly judgmental gaze stayed fixed on Izuku's face, and part of Izuku grew nauseated by the idea of the blonde's eye's tracing the tear marks that now stained his cheeks…

"You wanted to help people, didn't you?" Katsuki spoke out yet again and Izuku physically felt himself tense as he waited for the second part of the comment like a blow from a whip. "Wasn't that your whole thing, wanting to help people? Being a hero to make other's smile? You think you're doing that nowadays, moping around, a living reminder of the fucking war your stupid quirk put everyone through? All they fucking do is worry about you, so stop being such a goddamn burden."

Katsuki's words were getting more violent at this point, voice agitated and slightly raised. The tears fell a little harder from Izuku's eyes. He felt so…small, smaller than he had in fucking years. He kept his cloudy vision fixed to the back of his hands, almost convinced he himself was gonna melt and devolve into his middle school self. God, he felt sick to his stomach. Part of him swore he'd handled Eri's rescue mission better than this…

His hands twitched as they clung to the railing he was leaning over, knuckles involuntarily tensing up as if his body was preparing to hoist itself up onto the ledge to dangle from the balcony precariously, just like Katsuki himself was.

Izuku couldn't do that though, could he? What if he didn't land right and ended up just horribly injuring himself, forced to still live, but simply tortured by even more unshakable pain? If he died outside the dorms he'd probably traumatize whoever found him too, and none of his classmates deserved that. Fuck, would he be selfish for dying here? Could he not even get that right?

Clearly sensing Izuku's stress, and sadistically feeding off of it, Katsuki spoke up yet again, practically hissing out the words like a snake constricting around Izuku's own overly noisy mind, "No one's gonna miss you. Hell, no one will even fucking care. They have better things to worry about then you, worthless Deku. You'll be lucky if they waste their time burying your body."

"Worthless Deku." It'd been a while since that nickname hurt Izuku. Back when he was younger he swore it had teeth, a sick, final bite Katsuki would sink into his skin after any bout of tortuous teasing. It was a dash of salt to any new wound Izuku would be forced to wear. He was never, ever Izuku, he was just a Deku. A useless little doll to be toyed and played with till he was thrown aside for the day, having no better uses till the sadistic desire to taunt raged inside Katsuki or one the kids that tailed the blonde again.

Coming to UA brought it new meaning though. Seeing Uraraka's face light up when she said it brought it new meaning, seeing pride bloom in Iida when he called "Deku" his teammate brought it new meaning, hearing Kacchan bark the word out not as an insult but as a title, a true name akin to the strongest version of Izuku to ever exist, brought it new meaning. Deku became the version of himself he idolized. The strong version of him, the smart one, the version of him that finally had real friends that adored him, the version of him that didn't have to chase after Katsuki cause instead they ran side by side.

Deku was a hero.

Deku was the ninth holder of One for All, of All Might's quirk.

And now Deku was as good as dead.

Yeah, maybe he was a worthless Deku. A worthless version of the best version of himself, a useless, shameful version of the hero that had once saved Japan. He wondered if the disappointment his friends felt for losing that version of him outweighed their pity yet (Izuku had a feeling it would in time. Eventually everyone will have mourned that loss, mourned the heroic classmate that once inspired and fought alongside them, and would grow to detest the shell that was now left in his place. They'd all slowly drift away from Izuku as he feebly and sluggishly tried to keep up, a few of them throwing him glances over their shoulders till they raced so far ahead there was no point at looking back at him anymore…).

An unexpected sob came tumbling out of Izuku's chest as the full weight of Katsuki's words hit him like a truck. Useless, worthless, a mockery of what it meant to be a hero- fuck, what was Izuku still doing standing here? He had gotten a peak at his dream, a glimmer of what could have been, to live it all for five minutes and enjoy and revel in every bit of the glory, the pain, the satisfaction, the misery-

And now it was gone.

And here he was left, just a husk, burdened by the memories and left craving something he could never have back.

He was only sixteen, how was he supposed to live the rest of his life like this? Wishing, wanting, needing a version of himself back that died on the battlefield of that final war?

He couldn't.

"Just fucking do it already. We both know you want to."

Maybe that's why his mind made Katsuki the voice of all his insecurity, the one finally convincing him it wasn't worth it anymore. Kacchan did know best after all.

He swore his body moved on its own (Izuku didn't wanna think about the bitter irony of that thought right now) as he pulled himself up onto that railing, the cold of the metal sinking into his skin even through the thin fabric of his pants. His legs felt weightless as he let them dangle down towards the ground so many stories below him, his gaze fixed to the blurry concrete he couldn't quite tell if he was comforted or horrified by the sight of.

(Somewhere, in the back of his overly analytical mind, he told himself a five story fall wasn't guaranteed to kill him. He'd survived worse, at least while he had his quirk; explosions to the face, having his back skidded against asphalt, being stabbed, hell his entire first exam against All Might was probably more dangerous than this. No, if he wanted to die, he'd have to get himself to land on his head, put so much effort in that even in his final seconds his thoughts would be solely fixed on putting himself in the perfect scenario to die. And maybe that made this all so, so much worse. That Izuku had to die with conviction, that he had to be so saddeningly determined to off himself that he'd have to position himself to shatter his own skull on the pavement below…)

This was it, these were (or at least could be) his final moments.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he vaguely regretted not leaving people letters, apologizing that it had come to this. It was no one else's fault, really, not his mother's for not protecting him enough, not All Might's for giving Izuku his quirk in the first place, not his classmate's for not reminding him how much he was loved, and certainly not Kacchan's for being the voice that convinced him to jump. No, this was all Izuku's fault. He wasn't strong enough. Not strong enough to hold onto his quirk, not strong enough to keep up with his classmates despite his lack of power, not strong enough to find new purpose in life-

Not strong enough to keep going.

(Maybe though not leaving letters was a good thing. He didn't want his final message to everyone to bring up bad memories, memories of how he abandoned everyone and convinced himself he could do this by himself, and how the class had to scramble and try to get him back...)

The phantom weight of Katsuki rested heavily right by Izuku's side. The blonde was strangely silent in that moment, not breaking the lingering tension that hung in the air between them. A tiny part of Izuku wondered why, hoping even that there was a small chance regret might be simmering away in the bottom of the blonde's stomach, or maybe the younger boy's silence was just a way of his mind giving him some fleeting peace in his final moments (he hadn't gotten a lot in these last few years after all.).

It was unnerving though, to know Katsuki was there yet to not hear the other boy's voice. Izuku was so used to the blonde being able to fill in the silence when he himself wasn't able to, yet right now the stagnant air between them was almost…crushing. It left Izuku hyper aware of everything, the way his lungs heaved as he breathed in, the way his eyes stung from crying, the way his head throbbed a little as a headache snuck up on him. A small, pathetic part of Izuku was almost tempted to beg the other boy to speak again, even if he was spitting insults, just so the green-haired boy didn't feel so uneasy.

(Did that even matter though? Why did Izuku even care if he felt safe in his final moments? Kacchan wasn't even really there and yet Izuku was still clinging to him, clutching at whatever crumb he could get of the other boy's presence all cause he was so pitiful he could barely breathe without his best friend's support.)

And maybe, somehow, in someway, Kacchan felt that need, felt his heartstrings be tugged on by Izuku's shaky, clumsy hands, desperate for something as stupid and childish as hearing the other boy's voice. Because Izuku did get to hear that voice again, only it didn't come from beside him, crack-y and laced with middle school boyishness. No, the voice came from behind him, strong yet carrying that undeniable undertone of care, and accented by the sound of the dorm room door being squeaked open.

"Izuku!"

The green-haired boy nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of the other boy's voice, a sensation that made his breath catch as he felt himself wobble slightly on the flimsy railing he was sat on.

Was that- No, it couldn't be. Why would Kacchan be looking for him? Why would Kacchan check this dorm room of all places? This had to be another trick of his mind, a motivator to get Izuku to jump before some other version of his best friend came barreling into the room to shout and belittle him (only this one would hurt more cause this was UA Kacchan, the version of the blonde who wore scars in Izuku's name, the version of him who stayed by Izuku's side religiously, the version of Katsuki that still carried that damn All Might card everywhere he went. This was the version of Katsuki Izuku knew so well he'd practically become a part of him, the blonde and him being able to read one another's thoughts so well it surprised even Izuku himself some times. Hearing this version of Katsuki shout at him, call him worthless, would be…more than enough to push Izuku over the edge. Hell, it'd be enough to convince Izuku jumping off of the dorm building's roof was a good idea…).

So, Izuku didn't respond to Kacchan's voice. No, instead he braced himself, tensing his shoulders and shutting his eyes tightly, as if trying to make himself disappear, as if he could somehow hide from the heinous words that would inevitably be spat at him by simply freezing in place.

The sound of the empty dorm room's door being tightly shut echoed out from behind him, and Izuku could practically imagine the way the dust coating the floor was kicked up in response to the action. (He idly wondered if he himself had even shut the door when he hid away in here, or if he'd left it cracked open, a bad habit he had when it came to his own dorm room. Maybe that's how Kacchan found him, or maybe his mind was just desperate to find any sort of way to convince himself there was a small chance this Katsuki could be real, could be here to save him. The blonde had always been a better hero than him after all…). The blonde's distinct footsteps followed soon after, march-like in their confidence, yet far quieter than they had been all those years ago.

"I look all over this goddamn building for you just to find you on Icyhot's fucking floor. What the hell are you doing in an empty-"

The footsteps suddenly stopped and Izuku swore he could practically hear Kacchan's heart hit the floor.

"I- Izuku, why are…"

The ability to speak felt so impossibly far from the green-haired boy that Izuku didn't even try to respond. He knew for a fact the words would get caught in his throat, strangled, and come out as nothing more than an intangible mess of half put together, sob-like noises. Just hearing Kacchan though, the blonde's voice worried, uncertain even, with an undeniable hint of panic caused the urge to cry to sneak up on Izuku yet again.

A deafening silence filled the air, one that left Izuku painfully aware of all of his surroundings. The night air engulfing him suddenly felt so cold he swore it bit at his skin with fangs eager to be coated in red. The wind pushed at him fiercely, like a bored witness merely trying to get him to skip to the "good part". And his spacial awareness left him painfully aware of the fact two versions of his best friend were now both lingering impossibly close to him, one (a mere manifestation of his mind) just beside him, and one (that Izuku was starting to have the heart-sinking feeling was genuinely, truly real) stood what must have been just a few feet behind him...

Izuku had never hoped so desperately to disappear from a situation in his entire life.

"I-Izuku are you-" Kacchan stuttered over his words, tongue tripping and falling over them clumsily. It almost made Izuku laugh, really, from the absurdness of it. Hearing Kacchan, bold, bright, strong, intelligent Kacchan be unable articulate his words was something Izuku never thought he'd hear before. Typically the blonde let his thoughts flow to his tongue without an ounce of hesitation, spitting everything from blunt shouts of "die!!" to apologies and promises that even thinking back on it now left Izuku's eyes watery.

Yet here Kacchan was, speechless, mind void of words to say at the mere sight of Izuku hanging off the edge of a balcony.

"Please don't tell me this is what I think it is…"

("Selfish," Izuku swore he heard middle school Katsuki's voice hiss inside his mind, a voice Izuku knew no one else in the world besides himself could hear, "You selfish, selfish loser. Was this what you wanted, to traumatize the person you call your 'best friend'? To traumatize me? Haven't I been through enough? Haven't I sacrificed enough for you? Haven't I let you ruin my life enough to stop seeing shit like this?")

Kacchan's words made Izuku want to immediately push himself away from the edge of that balcony, to turn around, fall to his damn knees and beg for an apology, but he just couldn't get himself to do that. He felt like he was practically frozen there, the only source of any movement coming from him being the uneasy way his whole body seemed to constantly shake a little (Izuku swore there were carpenter bees trapped beneath his skin, burrowed deep within his bones and now fluttering and panicking as they tried to escape the overcrowded vessel of his body. There was so, so much emotion trapped inside him, an overwhelming, carbonated cocktail of guilt, sadness, agony- he swore it made his skin feel tight, like it was all just waiting for an opportunity to burst out of him.).

He couldn't do this, he couldn't look Kacchan in the eye, he couldn't admit what he was about to do, he couldn't burden Kacchan with the knowledge he wanted to-

"Izuku, please-"

It's that simple word, and the pathetic, almost desperate voice that the blonde says it in that immediately has any resolve or reserve Izuku had breaking. He doesn't know why he even tries, really. He's always been useless when it came to keeping things from Kacchan. From minor, unimportant things like his favorite food or All Might documentary, to the secret of One For All and the day the quirk had left him fully (Izuku remembered that day vividly, a memory he'd tried desperately to bleach from his mind, to free and unburden himself from. The last of the embers faded in the middle of the night, when Izuku was deep asleep, all too similar to the first time he had seen vestiges in their true forms. Only this time, when Izuku woke with a start, he didn't wake to the sight of broken glass or the feeling of untapped power radiating through his veins, he woke to…awfully, painfully nostalgic coldness and an unshakable dread filling his stomach like gravel. He spent that nights shamefully cradled in Kacchan's arms, apologies of a future they could no longer share dying on his tongue as he was able to do little more than sob. Kacchan spent that whole night awake himself, holding Izuku almost protectively against his chest, whispering reassurance into that unkempt head of wild green curls. Yet despite the sweetness of the words whispered, Izuku could still hear the undeniable way sadness clung to Katsuki's voice, unspoken disappointment and fearful uncertainty lacing every gentle reassurance.), Izuku told Kacchan everything. And when Izuku wanted (desperate and ashamedly so-) to keep things from his childhood best friend, all it took was one simple plea, one simple request or coax from Kacchan's lips and Izuku would fold (his goddamn body would move on its own…).

So of course that's how Izuku found himself, body shaking like an addict without substance and mind barely adrift in the raging sea that was his mind, turning to look behind him, thoughts completely pulled from Katsuki that must still be beside him and instead fixed to the version of Kacchan stood behind him.

And fuck had Izuku never regretted anything more in his goddamn life (including the mere fact he'd climbed onto that railing and all the plans he had to follow soon after.), cause the look on Kacchan's face was enough to make his very soul shatter.

He'd seen a lot of looks on Kacchan's face over the years; raging, fiery passion, bitter agitation, shy hidden joy that he just barley let tilt up the corners of his lips. Never before though, not even under the cold, sterile lights of the hospital room right after the war, or the walls that locked in the echo-y sobs around him that night that his quirk was finally gone, had Izuku ever seen pain like this written across his best friend's face.

A look akin to the kind of anguish Izuku had only ever read about in stories was washed over Kacchan's face. Those familiar, scarlet eyes were wide in what seemed to be almost pure panic, like Kacchan was fighting back the urge to rush forward and scoop Izuku into his arms and pull him far, far away from that ledge. His mouth was slightly agape and he seemed to still be at a loss for words, tongue tied in tight knots as he ran through a million different conversations in his mind (Izuku wondered how many of those hypothetical conversations had Kacchan apologizing again, as the green-haired boy was painfully aware Kacchan still saw himself as the source of so much of Izuku's self-belittlement and insecurity. And maybe it would be a lie to say that sentiment was entirely false, Izuku's mind had quite literally manifested a version of Katsuki for the soul purpose of convincing himself he deserved to fucking die. But to call Katsuki the main source of Izuku's self-hatred nowadays would just be objectively wrong. No, Izuku had grown most of his own self-hatred himself, and sure some of Katsuki's words from the past enforced those ideas, but nowadays when Izuku thought about Katsuki he thought about…a less lonely future, one of the few people he knew he wouldn't be able to shake from his life no matter how pathetic, or useless, or washed up he became. And sure, maybe a small part of him hated the idea of burdening Kacchan's life like that, of being something akin to a goddamn parasite, but a larger part of Izuku had to admit he liked the idea of not being alone…). And of course Kacchan's entire body was tense in the worst way possible, like he wasn't quite sure what he should be doing. Typically in battle Kacchan's body was always primed and ready, tension and energy flowing between each muscle effortlessly as the blonde planned each and every one of his own moves meticulously to match and out-do his opponent's own. Here though, all of Kacchan's muscles were locked up, like he was completely at a loss of what to do, like for once in his life he couldn't predict his opponent (The idea of that made Izuku feel weirdly proud. Here, in his final moments, he was still able to do one of his favorite things: stump Kacchan. It always made his day whenever he was able to do that, when sparring, in some sort of battle of wits, in something as mundane as a hero trivia contest, it always left Izuku giddy in an almost childish way, really. He loved being an anomaly to Kacchan, something familiar yet still endlessly fascinating all these years later. Maybe this could be his last way of fascinating and infatuating his best friend, one last puzzle, one last question about Izuku to sit in the blonde's head for years to come: why did Izuku jump?).

Kacchan looked…out of his element, lost, unsure, not a shred of that natural-born confidence able to be found anywhere on the blonde's face (an expression Izuku had seen so few times on Kacchan's face he swore he could count the few fleeting instances of it on one hand.).

All cause of Izuku.

Unable to stop himself, a laugh pulled itself out of Izuku's chest, if it could even be described as a laugh. It was a tragic, airy sound, strained and unnatural, like a strangled sob someone had tried to downplay and force some sort of fleeting humor into. It caught himself off guard, and, noting the way the blonde's already distressed face turned even more worried, Kacchan too.

"I-" Izuku choked on his words for a moment, his eyes struggling to find somewhere to settle before he gave up on fighting his instincts and simply let his gaze magnetize to Kacchan's own. "I'm sorry, Kacchan…" He whispered, quiet words cutting through the stagnant air worse than a scream would've.

(Izuku had heard a lot of awful things that night, his own toxic thoughts manifested through Katsuki's middle school vocal chords, his own shaky defeated tone as he attempted to defend himself, the bitter voice of unspoken insecurity that still reverberated inside his skull. Somehow though, despite all of that, part of Izuku was convinced that simple apology that fell from his own lips was the worst thing he'd ever had to hear.)

Silence hangs heavy in the air after that, though it's far from peaceful, and far from uninterrupted. No, it's not some "and time froze" moment, it was several painfully long heartbeats where the two boys both felt panic rush over them as the true weight of the situation hit them.

Izuku was going to kill himself.

If Katsuki hadn't shown up there was a nauseatingly high chance that the green-haired boy would have been nothing more than a splatter of scarlet across the pavement by now. No explanation, no goodbye, no closure. Just a cold body, an unshakable sense of loss, and a class full of teenagers forced to face even more tragedy while barely being old enough to drive.

For a second Izuku was worried the silence between him and Kacchan was going to be broken by the sound of him spilling his own guts.

Before the bile got the chance to crawl its way out of Izuku's throat though Kacchan spoke up again, leaving Izuku simply swallowing back the acidic burn.

"I- Izuku, you- you can't-" The blonde took a deep breath, and Izuku fought back the urge to apologize yet again as he watched Kacchan raise a hand to wipe his eyes with the heel of his palm. "Izuku, please just get down from there."

In that moment Izuku probably would have claimed he'd do anything to make Kacchan happy again. He hated seeing the other boy cry (he always had, ever since they were kids. When they were younger, barely old enough to feebly crawl around, the sound of Kacchan sobbing upset him so much that Izuku himself would almost always break into pitiful tears, not stopping until he was right beside Kacchan and the other boy was okay again. Their mothers had teased them for years about it, only stopping when the relationship between Izuku and Kacchan had grown dreadfully sour, and Katsuki was the source of Izuku's tears for a very different reason…), and even more so hated knowing he was the cause of those tears.

Yet as Katsuki asked for that one simple thing, for Izuku to get off of the railing, the green-haired boy found himself conflicted.

(He'd do anything to make Kacchan happy but…would Izuku sticking around even really make the blonde happy? Or was he simply too heroic to turn his back on Izuku, to let the green-haired boy jump even if it would be a net good? Was Kacchan too scared Izuku would compare him to that borderline monstrous boy he used to be in middle school if he walked away and let Izuku hurt himself? Was he too attached to Izuku, too willing to continue to drag along the other boy behind him even though there was no chance of Izuku keeping up anymore..? Maybe it was just his mind working against him, but Izuku would be lying if he said a few of those didn't sound painfully plausible.)

"K- Kacchan, I don't-" Izuku half-haphazardly tried to explain himself, tried to find a reason as to why he couldn't push himself away from that balcony edge, when he suddenly felt a hand tug on the end of his t-shirt.

The grip on the fabric was tense and firm, warmth radiating off of the palm of whatever hand was pulling at the shirt, and fingers slightly smaller than Izuku would have expected. Immediately though, Izuku recognized that touch, recognized the harshness of it, memories of those fingers digging into his shoulder and the glossy, blistered burn marks they'd leave behind flooding Izuku's mind.

Emerald pupils pressed themselves to the corner of Izuku's eyes as he glanced right beside himself, the green-haired boy trying desperately not to let his reaction creep onto his face too badly as the boy tugging on his shirt met Izuku's gaze with pure intensity.

Middle school Katsuki was still sat right there, mere inches from Izuku's side. He had a fixed look on his face, one that was almost critical, brows furrowed and lips pressed thin as stern judgment reflected off of those scarlet eyes of his. Yet he said nothing, no sniding remarks (that, let's be honest, Izuku probably would have instinctively responded to, leaving actual Kacchan confused as to who the hell Izuku was talking to, and Izuku would have had to somehow explain to his best friend that their was a mental manifestation of the blonde made by Izuku's stupid, self-hating mind sat beside him and demanding he kill himself-), no biting comments, hell not even a belittling laugh or critique of his older for self defending Izuku muttered under his breath.

Izuku does get one thing from the younger boy though; that firm, unwavering grip of the hand on his shirt. The touch isn't really there, Izuku knows that, knows it's just a figment of his imagination, yet the familiar, almost demanding nature of it keeps him locked in place. It's a silent command, Katsuki's phantom-touch bringing a semi-physical manifestation to the thoughts rushing through Izuku scattered, clouded mind.

"Don't you dare move off this railing. The only way you're leaving is when you jump."

And Izuku, weaker than ever (forever weak when it came to things Katsuki asked him to do-) didn't have the energy to resist that request.

So, the words flowed off his tongue before he could stop them.

"I can't, Kacchan..."

A look almost akin to betrayal rolled over Kacchan's face in response to that, the blonde-haired boy freezing for a moment before he simply blinked at Izuku in utter bafflement.

"You- you can't?" Kacchan said, stressing that last word in such a way that for a moment Izuku wondered if he was about to be shouted at, if Kacchan was gonna race forwards, wrap his arms around Izuku demanding-ly, and tug the green-haired boy away from that damn railing himself (and maybe, if he did just that, for a short moment Izuku would experience what it was like to be touched by two versions of the blonde, both Kacchan and Katsuki's hands on him, tugging him in completely different directions until he maybe tore apart...)

"What the hell do you mean you can't?! Is this a quirk or something? Are you stuck? You know if you had yelled for help someone would have-"

"No, Kacchan, I just-" Izuku let out a shaky breath. He didn't know how to explain himself, how to say 'I can't leave, cause if I don't do this tonight I'll go back to being a burden' without more or less bluntly telling Kacchan he wanted to jump.

Izuku turned his eyes away, gaze falling back to the concrete his feet dangled down towards. "…You should go, okay? I- I'm sorry you had to see me like this. I can't do this while you're here though so will you please just…leave?" The green-haired boy said, his tone at the end turning almost…pleading.

(Pleading for Kacchan to not try and sway him, pleading for the blonde to simply let him go, pleading for Kacchan to just let him die.)

(Izuku should've known that wouldn't work though, the scars over Kacchan's heart were living proof the blonde couldn't let that happen.)

Kacchan stalked forward, still yet to touch Izuku, (perhaps out of fear of scaring the other boy, or maybe cause he didn't wanna see Izuku flinch away like he used to when they were younger, didn't wanna bring up those bad memories…) "Leave you alone? Alone? Do you know how fucking scary it is to see you like this, and you expect me to just leave you alone?" Kacchan said, sounding almost outraged as he spoke, like he couldn't believe what the other boy was saying. "You really think anyone in our damn class would let me do that? Hell, you think I'd be able to live with myself if I just left you like this?"

Izuku couldn't help but shudder a little in response to Kacchan's words, swallowing thickly as he did so. Did he really expect Kacchan to be able to just leave him like this? No, not this Kacchan, not the person Kacchan had grown into. Hell, Izuku doubted even the version of Katsuki that had spat the worst of insults at him (that had been the one to put the damn idea of jumping in his head-) would have the heart to leave him like this. Kacchan had always been a hero after all, one who won so he could save people, one who deep-down never meant the words he said, one who only slung insults out of fear of people getting ahead of him and leaving him behind. Kacchan, especially this one, the version of the blonde who had carved a spot for Izuku into his very being, didn't want Izuku to hurt despite how badly Izuku may crave the burn himself.

(It was funny almost, how things had changed so drastically. When they were younger Izuku was the one to empower himself while Katsuki did everything to keep him down. Now Kacchan was the only life-raft Izuku had even as the green-haired boy begged to drown.)

Izuku didn't even try to muster up any sort of response. He hated fighting with Kacchan, especially when he knew it was pointless, knew he was in the wrong (knew he should just let himself be rescued despite how weak and burden-esc it made him feel…). All he did was let out a shaky breath, one of his own arms moving to wrap around himself while the other gripped onto the railing in a white-knuckle grip.

(All too reminiscent of his junior high self-) Kacchan didn't seem to wait for Izuku to give him any sort of response, simply sighing deeply and running a stressed hand down his tired face.

"…What happened, Izuku?" The blonde questioned, voice so soft his words threatened to get lost in the cool night air around them. "What happened to proving me wrong? To being a hero no matter what? When the hell did not having a quirk ever stop you before?"

Izuku sunk his fingers tightly into his own flesh as he heard those words, nails leaving angry red marks even through the fabric of his night shirt.

He didn't want to (fuck, didn't even know how to-) explain what had happened to Kacchan. That his dream was dead now so he couldn't find a damn reason to keep going. That he didn't have the heart to keep going after everything that had happened. That the idea of watching the class go on without him made him sick to his goddamn stomach.

(That, just like Kacchan, there was nothing in this world more scary to him than being abandoned.)

For a split second, a fleeting, fragile moment of time, he had lived his dream, been a hero that saved the goddamn world, and now he knew why everyone used to belittle him. He couldn't prove Katsuki wrong, he couldn't be a hero, hell the only reason he ever had been one was cause a quirk had been given to him.

Now that it was gone he had nothing. All of the luck he had ever had felt drained out of his body, odds forever out of his favor.

Not wanting to admit any of that out loud, Izuku immediately turned defensive.

"Maybe it's not about my quirk, Kacchan…" He said, borderline lying through his teeth (god, lying to Kacchan, lying to the person he frequently called the most important to him. When had Izuku started spiraling down a rabbit-hole this bad?)

Not buying it for even a second, Katsuki let out an indignant scoff, "Yeah right. You think I don't know you or something, Izuku? None of this shit started happening till after the war. I remember what you were like before the embers started burning out. You-" Katsuki paused, and even without looking at him Izuku could tell the other boy's expression softened. "You weren't great but you wouldn't have done…this. You wouldn't have let yourself."

"You wouldn't have let yourself."

For what must have been the millionth time that night Katsuki's words rang in Izuku's head, only this time, they weren't praying for his downfall, they were reminding him of the strength he used to have (Which, in a strange, sad way, part of Izuku felt was worse. He didn't wanna be reminded of how strong he'd been, how capable he was back then, how far that all felt from him now…).

Katsuki was right, before the war, before his embers were gone, Izuku wouldn't have even entertained the idea of jumping. He had purpose, he had drive, he had inspiration and a dozen different people pushing him forward. The death of him would have been the death of One For All, the failure to carry on All Might's legacy, a metaphorical kneel to the system he let beat him down his entire life. And even in moments where dying would have been easier, would have saved him a future of agonizing pain, Izuku never gave in, was never even tempted by it.

Now here he was, practically craving death, seeing it as a comfort, a place to settle without having to writhe and cope with the disappointment of what he'd become.

What had happened?

("Too much", Izuku thought to himself "Too much had happened. Too much, at too young of an age, with too little to keep his mind off the pain of it all.")

Izuku sighed deeply, his warm breath mingling into the cold air around him, "You know why I'm doing this, Kacchan." He murmured in that defeatist tone of his, the one that had become far too common to hear, the one that left so many people wondering where the happiness that had been zapped out of him went (it hadn't even been "zapped" out of him, it hadn't disappeared all at once. It'd been drained out of him, like his very soul had a leak in it, and little, by little, by little, the joy that had come from "living his childhood dream" evaporated out of him like water on hot pavement. It'd been a lot like the process of blood loss, really, what started as a small cut, a minor insecurity and looming fear, slowly let all of the happiness out of his body, and now that it was all gone all Izuku could wait for and expect was to die.).

Izuku's words seemed to catch Kacchan off guard, the blonde spluttering for a short moment. Not wanting to lose his chance to speak, Izuku continued. "…I think you were right, you know?" He admitted, gaze still fixed down to the several stories long fall beneath him, his feet swinging a little as he stared at the ground far below them so intensely. "I should've jumped back when you told me to. I wouldn't have known what I was missing out on then. I would have been…happier, I think, in a way."

Despite the solemn-nature of Izuku's words, and the depressed, almost overly-gloomy connotation of them, he had to admit they weren't pure disasterization. There was a small part of him that genuinely thought (and always had, really) that those words were true. If Izuku had never had a quirk, never met All Might, never made it past the UA entrance exam (if they would have even let him take that quirkless-), would he have been happier? Maybe there was a world where he went to normal high school, made his way to college with a well-paying scholarship, and used his fixation and fascination with studying to become a scientist. Maybe he'd laugh at the memory of his childhood bedroom that had enough All Might merch that you could practically swim in it, and smile sympathetically at the thought of how he used to cry at his keyboard while watching the videos of his favorite heroes on repeat. Maybe he'd marry some pretty girl with long blonde hair and resign himself to the idea of never making amends with Kacchan. Maybe he'd turn the TV off whenever the name "Dynamight" came on screen, and maybe he'd avoid looking in the direction of ruby-red eyes when his mom and Auntie Mitsuki decided to have their Christmas parties together. Maybe his heart forever would feel forever heavy in his chest, slightly strangled by that idea of what could have been, but he'd do his best to live in the moment, naive to the pain the world of heroism would have put him through.

Or maybe, (and far more likely if Izuku's depressed and demented mind was allowed to give its opinion) after being rejected by the world around him over and over again, with no All Might to cling to and his hopes of getting into UA dead and gone, Izuku would have jumped. Dead at the age of fifteen, splattered across the pavement at the foot of the highest building he could find (or whatever was furthest away from crowds of people. Even when dying Izuku would have to be a bit of a hero, he wouldn't want anyone to have to watch as he died…), the misery the world had bestowed upon him functioning as the weights on his feet that caused him to go tumbling down.

Somehow though, in the grand scheme of things, Izuku thinks that version of himself would have been happier. It made him weirdly protective almost, to think about that younger version of himself (maybe cause he felt like such a different person really, after everything). He wanted to cradle that boy in his arms, to hug him tight and scream, and cry, and beg the world to give him back. Cause that tiny, naive version of Izuku didn't get to die peacefully. No, Izuku had to watch as that little boy was slaughtered in his arms, the naivety stripped from him like layers of skin being peeled away, and his hope for the future drained like the life from his eyes.

Izuku wished he'd killed that boy himself, quick and painless, before the world got to tear him apart. He wished he'd been able to give himself that mercy.

("Is it better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all?" that saying felt like a mockery to Izuku. Stupid, stupid, pointless words from a person who didn't know what it truly meant to lose something. Cause Izuku would have given anything, anything, to have never loved at all, to have never gotten a taste of what it was like to be a hero, to have not become an idol to so, so many people only to have fallen just as quickly. Izuku would have done anything to not be burdened by the idea that he had lost everything, and that it was all his fault…)

For a moment, Izuku was so lost in the world of his own thoughts, so deep into the well of despair that he had fallen in, that he didn't even realize Kacchan had moved. No, he only noticed it when a warm, familiar, real hand (the moment Kacchan's skin is touching his own Izuku can feel the stark difference between the phantom-like touch of middle school Katsuki and the grounding nature of Kacchan's tangibility. Kacchan hands were so much more real, calluses rough as they draped over Izuku's own scars, and fingertips laced with that unshakable trace of sweat from his quirk. When middle school Katsuki had grabbed him, it had just been a faint warmth and a whisper of soft skin that grabbed at him harshly, the haziness of a memory that had been burnt in the forefront of Izuku's mind yet wasn't truly clear.) was placed on top of his own.

That touch, as simple as it was, pulled Izuku right back into the moment, mind as clear as if he'd had ice water dumped on top of him. His whole body tensed for a moment in response to it, his head whipping around to face Kacchan where the blonde was now stood beside him.

Either side of him now were two versions of his best friend, one holding onto his hand, pleading with him to not jump, the other with a fistful of Izuku's shirt, not allowing him to move back from the ledge even if he wanted to.

(Surprisingly though, the younger version of Katsuki stayed rather silent during Kacchan and Izuku's whole exchange, simply watching the two boys with narrow red eyes, but never opening his mouth to say anything, though his fingers were still wrapped up in the fabric of Izuku's night shirt tightly. Maybe he didn't speak cause he was unsatisfied with the idea of Izuku splitting his attention between the younger and older versions of the blonde, or maybe he simply couldn't cause Izuku's mind wasn't able to think up insults for the younger to spit when all of the green-haired boy's attention was fixed on Kacchan.)

As Izuku stared at Kacchan with a mix a surprise and slight doubtfulness drawn across his features, he couldn't help but notice the way the blond-haired boy's eyes were stuck on their connected hands. Kacchan's gaze didn't dare to stray anywhere else, not Izuku's face, not the balcony door, not even the cement so, so far below them. Kacchan stared at nothing but where his palm sat on top of Izuku's knuckles, his fingers resting in the divots between Izuku's own digits (and fuck did the green-haired boy desperately, desperately want to just slot their hands together-). His gaze was so fixated, so attached, that Izuku swore the moon itself could have fallen from the sky and he'd still somehow be the center of Kacchan's attention (goddammit it, why was his heartbeat picking up? Izuku was sitting on the verge of death he could not be getting flustered over his stupid, pointless crush on Kacchan now of all times-).

He wanted to say something, to tell Kacchan to stop (stop what, touching him? Talking to him? Staring at him? Doing too damn good of a job at convincing Izuku not to kill himself by simply fucking existing and reminding the green-haired boy of all the good things that still existed despite his misery-), or go away, or just go to bed already, but Izuku couldn't. No, his eyes, and mind, and whole being in that moment seemed so fixed on Kacchan that he couldn't even get words to form on his lips.

So of course, Kacchan beat him to the punch of being the first to speak.

"You're still…valuable, 'zuku." Kacchan said, voice careful and steady. His hand on top of Izuku's began to move then, gently coaxing Izuku's hand to turn over, palm now facing the sky. "It was never your damn quirk that inspired people or saved them, it was you. It was the way you spoke, the way you always pushed yourself further, the way you kept fucking smiling even as the damn world burned down around you. Don't you get that? It was never the damn power." The blonde murmured, voice holding that edge it always had whenever he got passionate over something, yet his body language held an entirely different demeanor to it. As he spoke with such stern yet earnest conviction Kacchan's finger simply gently traced the lines of Izuku's palms, as if memorizing every little divot and the countless imperfections dotting the surface.

The touch was so strangely intimate for being something many would have wrote off as simply meaningless. Izuku felt all but mesmerized as Katsuki traced the various lines of his palm, the pad of that familiar, calloused pointer finger tracing his fate line…

His head line.

His heart line.

His life line.

(Izuku's hand instinctively withdrew just a little from Kacchan's warm, welcoming touch, the blonde himself hesitating for second before continuing to trace shapes into Izuku's palm.)

Izuku's expression deflated a little as he mulled over Kacchan's words in his mind. Maybe the blonde was right, maybe it was never about One For All (though, Izuku had almost two years worth of quirk training, a beach he'd cleaned by hand, and a full fucking war and a half that begged to differ about that.), but how was Izuku still supposed to be the person he was back then? How was he supposed to speak so boldly it bloomed inspiration and hope into other people's hearts when he barely was able to keep himself functioning? How was he supposed to keep pushing himself when it felt like his body was constantly about to break? Fuck, how was he supposed to smile anymore? (That thought brought a flicker of a memory to the watery surface of Izuku's practically liquid mind. Eri in a hospital bed, bandages still engulfing her arms as she admitted she didn't know how to smile. Everyone had worked so, so damn hard to recreate that spark of joy she'd been robbed of. Is that how bad Izuku had gotten? Would he not even be able to smile for Eri anymore, unable to show her it was possible to persevere through anything cause some things just broke you? The thought made Izuku bite his inner cheek so hard he swore he could taste the red that would stain his teeth.)

"I don't-" Izuku took a deep breath, as if trying to will the words he wanted to say out of his mind. "I don't think that person exists anymore, Kacchan…" He admitted in a small, sad voice, hating the potential those words had to hurt Kacchan despite how real they felt in his mind.

Deku, the hero he'd once been, was a version of himself he was never getting back. Maybe he died when the last embers of One For All finally settled and disappeared, maybe he died alongside Tenko when the war came to an end, hell, maybe he died on that battlefield alongside Kacchan himself (Izuku was starting to dislike how many versions of himself he considered dead. Though, maybe in a way every version of him prior to now was dead and they were all just…waiting for him to join them. Waiting for this story of there's to come to the anticlimactic close it inevitably deserved.). Regardless, Izuku couldn't be, or at least didn't feel like, a hero anymore. He barely even felt like himself anymore. He felt like the worst bits of a pillar that had once supported the entirety of Japan, the cockroaches and ash-riddled rubble of his own past self, too stubborn to die but completely worthless to the world around him.

Those words, those simple, doubt-riddled words Izuku had dared to utter, seemed to sink deep into Kacchan's mind, hurting him far more than anything else he'd experienced in a long, long time. Izuku had watched the blonde be put through a lot; punches that would normally break jaws, blasts that caused him to be thrown into the side of buildings, vats of boiling water that Kacchan could stick his hands into without flinching, yet as the blonde intertwined his fingers with Izuku's own in that moment and squeezed in a way the green-haired boy could only describe as desperately, Izuku couldn't help but wonder if he'd squeezed Kacchan's heart so harshly it was bruised and tender…

"…What am I supposed to do then?" The blonde muttered after a long moment of silence. His voice was…bitter, like a child that had just had something taken from him, sullen and petulant in way so undeniably organic it almost baffled Izuku to hear. There was a slight undertone of something else though, Kacchan's voice sounded almost…watery, and that's all it took for Izuku's gaze to instinctively meet the other boy's own.

Scarlet eyes that were even more red in the worst way possible, waterlines filled to the brim with tears like a dam that was threatening to break. Izuku loved those eyes so, so damn much that it felt as if a piece of his heart was snapped off like a weak limb from a tree whenever he saw the other boy cry like this.

(Seeing Kacchan cry always felt slightly unreal to Izuku, like a rule of the universe had been broken, a cog in the machine of how his mind processed the world around him momentarily frozen leaving the green-haired boy simply stuttering. Kacchan was victory to him, strong unbreakable will, unshakable determination, and pure, unfiltered passion all wrapped up in spiky blonde hair and feral grins. Seeing that image break, being reminded that the blonde was human, nothing more than the boy Izuku grew up beside always shook Izuku a little, but not necessarily in a bad way. It was like when he came to terms with the fact All Might was just as normal as he was, just a quirkless kid with a lucky chance and that belovedly outlandish dream to save people with a smile. Learning All Might was normal didn't shake the admiration Izuku had for him, it just made him…tangible, it let Izuku admire the mundane of the older man and feel their shared memories were so much more than just a fanboy and his idol. It was the same way with Kacchan. When Kacchan's cracks showed, when he broke or softened a little, it let Izuku's mind fully process the fact that this boy, the blonde he admired for so long, the person he fought tooth and nail to prove himself to, his image of victory, was the same Kacchan he had grown up beside. The same Kacchan that made him bentos and shaped the rice in little animals like Izuku's mom used to. The same Kacchan that for months would scold anyone that pushed Izuku to his limit during training, the blonde tenderly counting and caring for each and every ember of Izuku's quirk until they snuffed out.)

Izuku doesn't get a chance to try and soothe those tears though before Kacchan is speaking again, voice slightly raised and incredibly crack-y, strained, and tense. "Your future is MY FUTURE, IZUKU! THAT WAS WHAT YOU FUCKING PROMISED ME!" The blonde borderline shouts before he stops himself, his tear-filled eyes flickering between Izuku's own gaze and their now tightly connected hands.

(Maybe it was strange, even slightly creepy, to say, but Izuku was absolutely obsessed with those hands. Kacchan's wrists had taken a beating during their years of training, leaving the blonde's hands one of the most sensitive parts of his body. The tan skin was incredibly calloused and scarred, and even nowadays, after so much growth, and change, and the blonde making amends with the idea of opening up a little to others, Kacchan still had the habit of snapping at anyone who grabbed at his hands without seeking permission. Izuku though, Izuku never had to ask first, there was always this unspoken promise of permission, that the green-haired boy could reach out for, take, and touch Kacchan's hands whenever he wanted. Maybe it was Kacchan's silent way of apologizing for the dozens of moments he'd pushed Izuku's hands away, or a way of preventing himself from ever making the foolish mistake of not accepting Izuku's touch again. Regardless though, Izuku relished in the privilege. He had gotten to know those wrists so intimately, spending hours upon hours tracing over the scars, hyper aware of the calloused skin and marks beneath his fingertips, gently tracing over those old burns and faded scratches from years of training. He had even gently kissed those hands a few times, a thought Izuku couldn't help but blush and smile at the mere thought of.

For a long time, he'd always worried Kacchan silently judged him whenever he got fixated on the other boy's hands like that. Whenever Izuku would look up for reassurance though, he'd find Kacchan watching him with judgment-free eyes. He knew it'd taken a while for Kacchan to get used to this kind of touch, for him to realize that people tracing his faded wounds and scars was a sign of care, not a way to mock his past weakness. When Izuku was touching him though it was a lot easier for Kacchan to quiet that nasty, internalized bit of his mind that feared the idea of being perceived as weak or helpless. He knew Izuku would never judge him, let alone see him as weak, and that touch like this simply came out of a place of care, a desire for Izuku to know and be able to map out every inch of Kacchan, just like Kacchan knew every inch of Izuku.)

Both boy's stared at their entwined hands for a long, long time. Their grip on one another was so, so tight. It felt like they were tethered together, really, like whatever soul-bound connection they had emotionally had simply grown so out of hand it manifested itself physically, now binding their fingers together.

(Morbidly, Izuku wondered if he jumped in that moment if he'd be dooming Kacchan as well, if their connection would pull the other boy plummeting down towards the concrete too. Or maybe, just maybe, Kacchan was so much stronger than Izuku that if the green-haired boy jumped he'd simply be left dangling, his own hand permanently glued to Kacchan's as the other boy held on and kept him from falling…)

Crimson eyes trace the dips and crevices of Izuku's fingers before sighing deeply, "…Call me a selfish asshole, but I don't wanna exist without you, Izuku." Kacchan admitted in that strangely quiet, genuine tone of his, the one he reserved for those serious moments that shook even the coldest of people to their very cores. "I wouldn't wanna be a hero, I wouldn't wanna save people, fuck, I wouldn't know how to get up in the damn morning if I knew you wouldn't be there..."

(For a moment, Izuku waits. He waits for a "but", he waits for an addition of something along the lines of "to bother me", he waits for the facade to drop and for Kacchan to laugh at him. Even after everything that happened Kacchan didn't always treat Izuku gently, didn't loose his habit of calling the other boy a nerd, didn't stop his occasional disgruntled, annoyed comments whenever Izuku started muttering. But in that moment, the air was so serious that the blonde didn't make a single jab at Izuku. There were no playful insults, no unconscious bickering, no filler scoffs or annoyed sneers. It was as if Kacchan had picked every word with his full mind, like he had intention behind everything he said, like he meant all of it…)

Hearing those words didn't save Izuku, he couldn't say they made him like himself anymore, he couldn't say they quieted the turmoil in his mind, he couldn't say they even killed the temptation that being on that balcony filled him with. But hearing that, hearing those words, the admittance from Kacchan that if Izuku was gone he wouldn't even know how to exist caused a wave of hesitance to wash through the self-destructive minefield of Izuku's head.

For a second, a moment, a stuttering heartbeat even, Izuku thought about where he was, about how tightly Kacchan was holding his hand, about how Kacchan refused to leave his side even when Izuku told him to go, about how many times now Kacchan had reminded Izuku how he was useful and needed.

And that second, that lingering heartbeat, was all that was needed to tempt Izuku away from the edge. (To plant that seed of doubt in Izuku's mind, to make him question if this was really worth it. Izuku could practically feel that seed burrow itself into his head, pushing through his hair and skin, piercing through his skull, an digging itself deep into his brain. Part of him wondered how it would survive, his mind felt like a dark place, with no soil to be found, just a pure river of pitch black, ink-esc fluid his insecurity would feed into his veins. Somehow though, as if through sheer force of will, the seed not only found purchase in his brain, but it bloomed, blossoming into one of the brightest things that had made its way into Izuku's thick skull in a long, long time. Something the green-haired boy knew for a fact had no true, physical form, but internally he could imagine as nothing else other than a bright orange flower…)

"R-really?" Izuku mumbled, unsure if he should settle his gaze on Kacchan's face or their intertwined hands still. If this was any other time he probably would have laughed at, or at the very least cringed, at himself for asking that sort of question and sounding so uncertain doing so, but in that moment he couldn't help himself. He needed the reassurance, needed to know Kacchan wouldn't go back on his word, wanted to hear just how much the blonde meant what he said.

Kacchan's expression softens slightly, his own eyes indecisive, not quite sure if they should settle on the familiar beauty that was Izuku's face, or keep staring at their hands, almost as if scared or convinced that if he looked away that meant their hands would break apart. Eventually, he seemed to grow content with the idea of getting to keep his eyes locked with Izuku's own.

Their eyes met as Kacchan nodded firmly, "Really." He confirmed, and, like pulling a cork from a dam, tension seemed to slowly melt little by little from Izuku's body.

Maybe…Kacchan was right, maybe their was some use to him left, maybe, even if not in the traditional way, their was still a chance for him to be a hero. Maybe things, in both mind and body, would start to hurt a little less as time helped lick his wounds. And maybe the rest of his existence could be spent honoring the memory of the inspiration he once was, even if he truly could never fill those shoes again.

(And maybe, just maybe, even if things ended up as bad as his mind convinced him they would, and everyone left him behind, there'd still be one person by his side. Cause even in the darkest pits of his mind something told Izuku Kacchan would always, always be right there for him. That the blonde would rather limp forward while holding the both of them then turn away from Izuku…)

As hope quietly filled the air around them, lifting the spiraling tension Izuku had been letting himself drown in, Kacchan seemed to take it as an open invitation to give Izuku one final push (or maybe more so pull) away from the edge.

So, eyes still locked with Izuku's own, Kacchan carefully pulled their connected hands up towards his face. For a second Izuku's heart fell in his chest, thinking Kacchan was trying to move away from him. The moment the blonde's lips brushed against Izuku's knuckles though the green-haired boy felt those doubts disappear in an instant, suddenly going breathless.

Kacchan really just…kissed his hand. Planted his lips so certainly against the tops of Izuku's knuckles, as if their was not an ounce of doubt in his system that that was exactly what he should be doing. The action left Izuku's mouth slightly agape, not a single reactionary thought coming to mind. What was he supposed to say in response to that?! Kacchan had just kissed his hand, an action so devastatingly cute and sweet Izuku is more than positive the first year version of himself would have bawled his eyes out at this point. Part of his brain felt like he should have pulled his hand out of Kacchan's own, purely just so he could bury and hide his own face in it as a vividly bright flush crept up on him. The other, larger part of him though just couldn't bring himself to do that. The feeling of his hand being wrapped up so securely with Kacchan's own was too warm, too sweet, and too familiar (he couldn't pull his hand away, not when it so clearly belonged there…).

So, Izuku didn't pull away, instead he let out a stutter-y breath and squeezed the other boy's hand tightly, almost like a silent "thank you".

After kissing Izuku's knuckles Kacchan kept Izuku's hand close to him, running his thumb across the side of the other boy's pointer finger. "...You're strong, Izuku. Stronger than I'll ever fucking be." The blonde said earnestly, sighing softly after he spoke.

With that, and with Izuku's hand still firmly in his own, Kacchan took a hesitant step back, his hold on Izuku gently coaxing the green-haired boy to do the same thing (to finally, finally get off that damn railing. Izuku knew he'd technically only been there for what must have barely been half an hour, but god his body felt permanently welded to that spot…).

"So come here, yeah? You're worth more than this." ("Worth more than dying cold, sad, and alone by your own unfairly tortuous hand." Izuku swore that look in Kacchan's eyes silently added.)

And that was all it took for Izuku's mind to suddenly feel like it lost control, cause without thinking his body began to move on its own again in that almost painfully nostalgic way. The coldness of the metal fell away from his skin as Izuku didn't just turn and let his feet fall back down onto the stable, solid ground of the balcony. No, Izuku let himself fall, except instead of meeting cold, harsh concrete that would tear his body apart like razor-blades he met Kacchan's warm, familiar arms, collapsing into the other boy's chest and holding on for dear life.

"I- I'm sorry-" Izuku attempted to speak, but his words were cut apart by the sobs crawling up his throat. He could feel just how bad his own body was shaking at that point, and in all honesty if Kacchan hadn't been holding him up in that moment he was almost positive he'd have fallen to the ground (a heap of shaky, defeated sobs, botched green hair, and useless, limp limbs that were good for nothing but making sure Kacchan kept him close.). "I'm so sorry, Kacchan. I couldn't, I just couldn't-"

If you had asked Izuku in that moment what he was apologizing for, he wouldn't even be able to tell you. It was a mix of things, really, something between worrying Kacchan with what almost happened, for doubting the idea that Kacchan would even still want him despite the fact he was now quirkless again, hell, for simply almost making Kacchan live in a world without him. If Izuku had been drowning in guilt before, now it was frozen around him, clinging to his skin like an unshakable frost that he swore would be there for years to come. Somehow though, with Kacchan's arms firmly wrapped around him like this, that guilt didn't drive Izuku towards the edge, it did almost the exact opposite really, it made him wanna show Kacchan he was okay, live up to the image of that strong, capable, heroic boy he still apparently was in the blonde's mind.

One of Kacchan's arms wrapped itself around Izuku's waist while his other hand moved up to gently rub the green-haired boy's upper back, touch warm and soothing even as Izuku cried desperately and shook borderline violently in the blonde's hold. "Shh, shh, you're okay, 'zuku, you're okay." Kacchan hushed in that soothing tone of his, the rare one, the one that if Izuku shut his eyes and strained his ears enough almost reminded him of the way Masaru used to soothingly shush him whenever Izuku would end up scraping his knees or bruising his elbows while playing at Kacchan's house.

So, so many of Izuku's memories of being protected felt so far away from him. Like the last time he'd been truly held, and cradled, and kept safe was when he was a child. When did he let himself become the sole protector? When did it become so normalized for him to soothe other people's wounds and never his own? He loved doing it, don't get him wrong, he loved being a hero, a leader, the one to put on other's oxygen masks hours before his own, but the wounds he now wore made it clear that it'd been a long, long time since someone cared enough to turn back and rescue him instead. He remembers holding Uraraka while she cried over Toga's death, yet the nightmarish imagery of watching Tenko die, of knowing he was the cause of that death still haunted him so vividly. When Nighteye was in the hospital, why did everyone crowd their bed yet never flock to Izuku's side? The green-haired boy had spent so, so many nights alone with his skin numb from painkillers and his body barely movable. It became a joke in their class, that Izuku always seemed to be tumbling head first into hospital rooms, yet those laughs never made people check up on him unless they were their to scold him for his recklessness or beg for his help. And god, when it came to Izuku's knowledge on things so, so many people praised him for his ability to think on his feet and the strategies he could seemingly recite out of thin air. Yet not a soul cared to listen when he wanted to ramble passionately, even those he considered some of his closest friends told him to quiet himself or stared at him with almost disgusted eyes and strained smiles when he passionately rambled. At times it brought him back to middle school almost, the judgment, the obvious dislike, the reminder that Izuku still had to keep so much of himself under lock and key.

All of that, those were the reasons Kacchan meant so much to Izuku, cause despite everything, their complex history, the years of envy and 'hatred', the admiration the blonde had for Izuku that he now never tried to hide, Kacchan never forgot Izuku was human. He knew Izuku's traumas as intimately as his own. He always, always, found his way to Izuku's hospital bed the moment he could, even if it meant crawling out of his own. And for years Kacchan had put up with Izuku's mumbling, yet nowadays he didn't hesitate to ask to see the interior of Izuku's notebooks, nor did he let a single soul cut Izuku off, always snapping at whoever dared to tell Izuku to quiet down and letting the green-haired boy pick right back up from the last word he said. And fuck, Kacchan was holding him, holding him close, and tight, and with his neck stretched up so that Izuku could slot right beneath his chin.

For the first time in so, so very long, Izuku felt safe. There, in Kacchan's arms, nothing could hurt him, not villains, not the world, not even himself.

(Izuku had a lot of heroes. All Might for teaching him in every way imaginable. His mother for always supporting and believing in him even when his dreams seemed impossible or terrifying. Uraraka for always seeing him even when the entire world seemed to ignore or turn their backs on him. Shoto for showing him how to truly grow from your past, Iida for showing him what it meant to uphold a legacy and make those you idolized proud, Kirishima for showing him how insecurity never had to define you-

But Kacchan- Kacchan was his hero not just because the blonde was one of the strongest people he knew, a deadly combination of skilled, smart, and fiercely determined, but because Kacchan protected him both on and off the battle-field. The blonde would throw himself in from of bullets even when Izuku was at his strongest, and when Izuku was at his weakest Kacchan would keep Izuku afloat despite how badly he craved to drown. The blonde was…special to him, to say the least, his special person.)

It was as Izuku relished in that fragile feeling of safety though, head pressed against Kacchan's collarbone, that he felt it. Throughout his entire conversation with Kacchan, there'd been an extra hand clinging to Izuku, small and burning hot, with its fingers dug so tightly into Izuku's shirt it was if it were trying to silently anchor him to that edge. As Izuku had gotten lost in conversation with Kacchan though, he'd almost forgotten it was there (hadn't even noticed when it let go of him even, though, it definitely had, noting Izuku was now buried in Kacchan's hold), forgotten about the image his mind had conjured to haunt him, to prod him, to convince him to finally give in to what his darkest yet loudest thoughts so desperately craved.

Izuku forgot about it until, through barely opened, tear-filled eyes, he saw it:

Middle school Katsuki, staring at him and actual Kacchan with fire in is eyes, as if seeing Izuku on the solid floor of that balcony again offended him almost.

It's a sight that immediately caused Izuku to freeze, all feeling of safety draining from his body as he couldn't help but tense up in Kacchan's arms. The blonde noticed immediately of course, noticed the way Izuku's slowly softening muscles seemed to turn to stone suddenly, but he was oblivious as to why, oblivious to the conjured, ghostly version of himself Izuku's mind was forcing him to see (It made Izuku feel a little crazy, really. At least when he was seeing vestiges he could blame it on his quirk and the complex nature of One For All. Now though, now it was all his own doing, his own shitty coping mechanisms growing more and more outlandish till reality simply warped to the whim of whatever Izuku's inner demons decided was necessary). Despite the confusion though, Kacchan still held onto Izuku tightly, gaze downcast at the other boy as he tried to read the thoughts in the green-haired boy's mind through expression alone.

Izuku's eyes stayed trained on the younger version of Katsuki, breath stuttering for a short moment as he waited, simply waited for the other boy to snap.

He knew it was coming, it was inevitable, really, yet the other boy's words still sunk into his skin and stung.

Katsuki's red eyes traced Izuku and Kacchan judgmentally, assessing them from head to toe before he scoffed and snarled. "Is this what you wanted, you pathetic loser? Attention? To be fucking coddled? God, what are you, a baby?" The blonde said in an almost revolted tone. The words weren't as harsh as some of the other insults Katsuki had thrown Izuku's way, but they still left the green-haired boy retreating into Kacchan's arms.

Katsuki seemed to get some kind of sadistic sort of joy out of this, as he stepped closer to Izuku, tilting his head to the side as a mocking smile crawled across his face, "Was this your plan all along? Throw a big fucking pity party, dangle yourself over the edge for a bit until your precious Kacchan put his whole damn life on hold to take care of you? Are you really that fucking selfish?" The younger boy borderline growled, and Izuku would be lying if he said the accusatory words didn't make him wince.

"I- I didn't-" Izuku falters. He wanted to defend himself, wanted too scream back how he would never do that (and a far more bitter, crazed part of him was half-tempted to rush over to the edge of the balcony just to prove he really would jump. Just to prove this whole thing wasn't make-believe. Just to show he truly, truly was mentally tearing himself apart.), how he'd never worry Kacchan like that just as a bid for the other boy's attention, but he knew it was pointless. He was fighting his own damn mind. How the fuck could he convince himself he wasn't a liar? That he was a good person?

For what felt like the millionth time that night Izuku's eyes began to burn again, "I- I wasn't lying. I needed h-help. Kacchan saved me…" Izuku mumbled the words weakly, voice so small he wondered if it was even understandable.

Kacchan seemed to hear him, intently clinging to each and every one of Izuku's words. The older blonde's hand drifted up from Izuku's back to instead thread his fingers through the other boy's hair, "It's fine, Izuku. I- goddammit…" He murmured, momentary frustration leaking into his words. Izuku wasn't clueless, he knew what that frustration was from, knew the cocktail that must be brewing in Kacchan's chest, his ever present pride, determination, and protective nature all intertwining together. He was steadfast on saving Izuku, on pulling the green-haired boy so far away from the darkness of his mind that he didn't even think about that edge that had tempted him. That was so, so hard to do though when the enemy he was fighting against was Izuku's own mind…

Kacchan took a deep breath, trying not to let his frustration (or unspoken desperation) get the best of him. "You don't have to always be the strong one, 'zuku. You're allowed to lean on me. I'm here for you." He gently reminded, fingers softly and soothingly prying apart Izuku's curls as he spoke.

Izuku clung to the older, more mature, and slightly more gravely sound of Kacchan's voice, trying to loose himself in the calming sensation of the blonde's hands in his hair and ignore how painfully aware he was of Katsuki's presence just a few mere feet away from him. He wanted to leave, he wanted to go far, far away from this cursed balcony (he made a mental note that this was yet again a safe space of his he lost to the ever growing presence of his own trauma. Just like his childhood home that now housed no one but his petrified mother, just like his dorm room which was decorated in imagery of the idol he'd never get to live up to, and just like the very grounds of UA, a place he'd watched be torn apart, and now a place he couldn't even say he thought he truly belonged at.), and burying himself in the common room couch (or if he was really, truly lucky Kacchan would take pity on him and let Izuku hide beneath the sheets of the blonde's bed, the two of them pressed close together in the nonexistent space on the twin-sized mattress.). The idea of Katsuki following though, of the younger haunting his life much like Izuku's own suicidal ideation did, getting louder and louder until the green-haired boy finally snapped and gave in…yeah, that was a type of terrifying Izuku wasn't ready to cope with.

Izuku felt stuck, stuck there on that stupid, stupid balcony cause leaving wouldn't make Katsuki go away, wouldn't make his own, destructive, self-hating thoughts go away…

"You came up here to jump, didn't you?" Katsuki seethed, facetious grin still twisted across his face (part of Izuku wanted to punch himself for letting his mind create this image, for filtering all these cruel, biting words through Katsuki's mouth. In junior high the blonde had done a lot of things to him, a lot of terrible, terrible things that other people saw as borderline unforgivable. This was starting to push it though. Maybe in a strange way though that was a rather comforting thought to Izuku. He hated himself more than Katsuki ever did, even during the worst parts of their relationship…).

Izuku didn't respond, trying desperately to not even let himself think about the other boy's words. Maybe if he closed his eyes he could just make Katsuki go away, maybe if he just cleared his mind and pretended he couldn't hear anything all the awful thoughts would disappear and he could just-

"What, you're strong enough to kill Shigaraki but not yourself?"

Whatever tiny strands of resolve Izuku had been clinging to seemed to shatter in that moment, something akin to what he could only describe as anguish rushing straight into his veins.

He couldn't do this.

He couldn't.

How the hell was he supposed to live with these thoughts in his head? (How the fuck was he supposed to keep existing if he had to hear Katsuki say them?)

His own heartbeat was drumming like timpani in his ears at this point, his lungs burning as nothing but a stream of shallow breaths left them. The urge to pull at his hair was there, to claw at his skin, to scratch his arms raw until he could pull himself out of this suffocating body (His skin was wrong, it was so, so wrong. He'd ruined this body, decorated it in scars and stained his hands with the blood of innocent, abused souls that he'd promised he'd save. He needed to get rid of it, break it, burn it, beat it until it was mangled and purple. He couldn't stand living in this body anymore. Every distinguishable mark that it was him, every freckle, every birthmark, every stupid fucking green hair needed to be purged off his skin, erased like the fucking mistake he was. He should honestly feel lucky he'd granted himself a death as quick and succinct as falling. If the universe had any sense of justice he would have had a far, far more brutal fate, something along the lines of being buried alive before being burned whole.) there was something stopping him though-

Kacchan.

Kacchan was still holding him. Even as Izuku devolved into nothing but uneven breaths and panic-y shaking Kacchan still held onto him, his hold only turning more protective, as if he knew he had to ground Izuku back to what was really happening.

Despite the undeniable comfort that came from being in Kacchan's arms though Izuku still felt anything but calm. It was like his emotions had finally reached maximum capacity. There was no room left inside him, they needed to get out, that awful mix of guilt, and agony, and sadness was eating Izuku alive at this point and if he didn't find a way to get it out of him he was pretty sure he'd just pop like a balloon.

And maybe that's why Izuku's eyes ended up drifting away from both Katsuki and Kacchan, why his gaze felt all but magnetized to the edge of the balcony, the concrete below calling out to him louder and louder.

He could just end it all now. It'd all be over. The emotions would go away, Katsuki's words would stop ringing in his ears, he'd stop thinking all the damn time. It's why he came up here in the first place anyways. If he was dead the whole world would be quiet finally, wouldn't it?

That though, that simple movement of Izuku's gaze, seemed to be enough to cause panic to build in Kacchan's own chest, as a strong firm hand suddenly reached out to grab Izuku's cheek, redirecting the green-haired boy to face him instead. "Izuku, don't." The blonde warned firmly, red eyes boring straight into Izuku's own. If it were anyone else, Izuku wasn't sure they'd be able to pull him from his panic like that, but hearing Kacchan's voice and the genuine, earnest concern that crept into it at the mere sight of Izuku simply staring at the edge he wanted to push himself off of, that was enough to clear Izuku's mind for at least a brief moment.

"Don't- don't even look at the edge, okay? Just look at me, yeah? Keep your eyes on me." Kacchan whispered, hesitating for a short moment, as if debating if he should let his hand linger there on Izuku's cheek or if it were forbidden. He seemed to settle on the idea of letting himself, as his strong hand cupped Izuku's jaw with a little more certainty.

It was hard, really, hard for his brain to decide what was more worthwhile to look at; the edge that he had convinced himself cascading off of would solve all his problems, or those warm, red irises Izuku could so easily get lost in. It felt like his mind was playing tug of war with itself, locked in a heated battle of what was more or less both sides just screaming over one another as his instincts fought to try and convince him what to do:

Listen to Katsuki. Jump. Do it now. Stare at that edge and let yourself finally fucking accept this is your last night alive.

Listen to Kacchan. Kacchan is trying to protect you. It isn't worth it. Just calm down and stay there. Look at Kacchan.

The polarity of it all left his head spinning in all honesty, slow-building headache still throbbing in Izuku's skull as he stood all but frozen in that spot. He couldn't move, it was like his brain was demanding exact opposites from him: step right, no left. Move forward, go back. Tonight we live, tonight we'll die. It left Izuku so painfully overwhelmed that all he could do was stay there stagnant, indecisiveness and fear written plainly across his face as Kacchan continued to hold his face, guiding them to stare at one another.

The older blonde's eyes stayed soft as he looked at Izuku, care and concern clouding his usually stern features. "I can tell how loud your head is, nerd. It's spouting nonsense. Just keep looking at me, listen to what I'm saying." Kacchan gently coaxed, a light wave of warmth rolling over Izuku (though it sadly did little to quell the raging war Izuku's mind plagued itself with.)

Katsuki seemed almost amused by Kacchan's soft demeanor, scoffing a little at his older self before looking poignantly at Izuku, "You really think he understands half of what you're fucking thinking? Why the fuck do you even think I'm here? I'm your brain! Your thoughts! I'm what you know is right!" The younger boy snapped, and Izuku found himself swallowing bitterly in response to his words.

There was no way to say Katsuki was wrong, he was Izuku's darkest thoughts in purest form. He was a predator made and crafted by his own damn mind, a perfect combination of dangerous yet realistic. Who was the person Izuku would always listen to? Katsuki. And what version of the blonde could Izuku imagine telling him to off himself without an ounce of doubt creeping into his voice? The one from junior high. The one that Izuku had to constantly remind himself was truly his best friend despite the pulverizing layers of distrust and hate that had grown to cover their friendship, the one that put Izuku through hell every goddamn day while the green-haired boy still silently daydreamed about their future together, the one that continuously told Izuku to give up to the point Izuku had allowed that doubt to creep into his mind.

Izuku never believed their was any version of Katsuki that actually wanted him dead. But noting he had the habit of clinging to every word that left the blonde's mouth…well it was hard not to cling to those ones as well…

Izuku wasn't even looking at Katsuki anymore but that didn't seem to discourage the younger blonde from continuing to speak at all, "You're useless, you know that? A fucking stain on UA's reputation. It's honestly a goddamn miracle they've even bothered to keep you around." He huffed. Izuku was starting to think not seeing Katsuki was making this whole thing worse, really. Without any solid images his mind was left to wander and imagine just how pissed off and rage-filled Katsuki looked. The almost disappointed look in his eyes, the way his arms would rest firmly crossed over his chest. Maybe Katsuki wasn't even bothering to look at Izuku anymore, staring off to the side almost expectantly while he waited for his heinous words to take affect, while he waited for Izuku to fold, to cave, to jump. "You really think there's still a chance, any chance, you become a hero? God, you really are fucking crazy. Hit your head one too many times, Deku?"

Izuku wouldn't answer that. Maybe he was crazy for letting even a sliver of himself feed into the hope that he'd get to be a hero again, stay at UA, graduate alongside his friends. Maybe a tiny bit of that childish hope he still had remained alight in his chest (an ember, that like so many others before it, would snuff out and die all too soon…).

Insecurity and self-doubt only raging harder in response to Katsuki's remarks, Izuku let his eyes fall to the ground again, though, his gaze was only allowed to linger on his sock-clad feet for a short moment before Kacchan's hand was coaxing him to look up yet again, wanting to keep the green-haired boy's gaze on him.

"People need you, 'zuku. Even by just existing you are so, so important to the world." It was uncanny almost to Izuku that Kacchan always seemed to know what to say, better than Izuku himself was most of the time at dispelling and disproving those mind-numbing thoughts that raced through the green-haired boy's head. It made sense that he could, Kacchan had been talking him out of bawling his eyes out since they were both toddlers capable of little more than tripping over their own feet, but still the inherent connection they shared made Izuku's chest feel warm. Under different circumstance that thought probably would've (and it definitely in the past had) made him smile (though right now Izuku wasn't sure those muscles in his face would even work. Whether that was from the misery that was practically engulfing him whole, or just how disconnected he felt from his own body still, he wasn't quite sure.).

The hand Kacchan had on Izuku's face pressed itself a little closer, the blonde's touch a little unsure almost before he hesitantly let his thumb caress the apple of the other boy's cheek, silently encouraging Izuku to keep his attention fixated on him. "You're- you're still a hero, Izuku, you're still my hero. And, fuck, I'll- I'll find a way. I'll find a way to make you a pro, I promise, okay?" Kacchan whispered almost desperately, as if he was bargaining with Izuku in a way, clinging to any opportunity or simple offer that convinced Izuku to keep his feet on solid ground.

Izuku didn't focus on that though, he couldn't really, not when internally he was reeling as he tried to comprehend what the blonde had just promised.

Kacchan would…make him a pro? Kacchan wasn't the type of person to make promises over just anything, when he vowed something to you he would, without a doubt deliver. Even if it was something as impossible as plucking the sun out of the sky Izuku had no doubt that if Kacchan promised that the star would somehow find its way into the person's hands.

Yet somehow this, this felt more impossible than pulling the sun from the sky.

Kacchan was gonna…make Izuku a hero again? Did he really think Izuku was worth that effort? The green-haired boy didn't even know how that would work. Support items? Find someone else with a transfer quirk willing to gift Izuku their power (though, Izuku would have to admit he wasn't sure if he wanted to go through all of that again-)? Simply have Izuku learn enough martial arts and battle strategy until he, despite his own lack of power, was as strong as a pro (part of him doubted that was even possible. There was always an inherent advantage to having a power that was built into your very being, one you could summon at will, move with, and understand as if it were a third hand. Not to mention, quirks were only getting more and more powerful, more complex. He could learn a million different ways to throw a punch but how the hell would he hold his own when someone like Shoto could freeze him on the spot or someone like Iida could run laps around him in an instant.)..?

For a moment, the panic in Izuku's chest dissolved a little as pure bewilderment filled it instead. His eyes locked onto Kacchan's in earnest, so much emotion filling his gaze it flooded down onto his face: confusion, honor, shock, curiosity, desperation, wonder. That simple promise seemed to cause a whole new storm to brew inside of Izuku's chest, and, almost out of necessity, he found himself searching Kacchan's gaze for something. Doubt, betrayal, deceit- anything, something, that would prove this promise was nothing more than a bid to kill the self-destructive desire eating the green-haired boy alive.

Izuku found none of that though. Instead he found…earnestness, nothing but pure, genuine belief that proved the promise Kacchan made to him was not only real, but one the blonde would fight for.

("Anything" Izuku swore, swore he heard the blonde say inside his head. Maybe that was is mind giving him a fighting chance. A manifested version of older Kacchan made out of the dull yet ever-growing hope for the future that lived inside Izuku's heart. "I would do anything for you, anything to keep you by my side.")

Maybe it was strange to say, but as Izuku gazed deep, deep into Kacchan's eyes, he couldn't help but be filled with a genuine sense of awe. Everything in that moment, from simply how close Kacchan was, to the warmth of the blonde's gaze, to the idea that maybe, (just maybe) Izuku didn't have to let go of any of this (his dreams, his hope for the future, his connection to Kacchan) left him feeling simply…wonder-struck. It felt like for the first time in months the tightness of his chest was finally diminishing, like he could breathe again, like his body was his own.

(The subtle relief washing over him seemed to reach his body as well, as Kacchan's hold on his cheek grew even less coy, the pad of his thumb daring to stretch up and run beside the corner of Izuku's eye, as if he could tell the green-haired boy was more relaxed now. Something about that touch left Izuku a little giddy, really, his skin flushing ever so subtly.)

The softness and contentment of that moment seemed lost on only one soul (if he could even technically have one of those..?), Izuku able to practically hear the way Katsuki shook with rage. The younger blonde stomped his foot loudly, one last futile attempt to steal back Izuku's attention.

"I'M FUCKING DONE WITH THIS! JUST JUMP ALREADY, YOU WORTHLESS DEKU!!" The blonde screamed so loudly it rang in Izuku's ears (it was hard to think clearly in that moment, but somewhere, in the undertone of those words, Izuku couldn't help but pick up on the…desperation Katsuki spoke with. He sounded almost slightly panicked, like the very thoughts he was made of realized they were loosing their hold on Izuku, and this was their last-ditch effort, simply demanding Izuku give in, filling Katsuki's tone with impatience and commanding Izuku to jump with no room for bargaining.

And maybe, if he had heard that demand earlier tonight, Izuku would have done as he was told. He would've given Katsuki one last teary-eyed look, the need to apologize for everything heavy on his tongue, as he'd sat on that railing and let himself fall backwards, the wind whipping around him harsher and harsher until it all went black…

(Not now though, now Izuku felt like he had something tethering his feet to the floor, hope pumped back into his body like the equivalent of emotional CPR.)

Despite the weakening affect of Katsuki's words though, the bluntness and volume of them did make Izuku cringe a little. Kacchan didn't hesitate to gently soothe Izuku yet again though. "You're okay, Izuku, I promise. I won't let you hurt yourself. Just keep your eyes on me." He whispered, his other palm migrating its way up to Izuku's head, cupping the green-haired boy's face fully in his hands. Their eyes were locked on one another fully and unabashedly and for the first time that night Izuku felt no temptation to look over at the edge of the balcony (not when Kacchan was so, so much more tempting to stare at.)

From there it felt like Katsuki's voice became a dull roar, calling out for Izuku until…

"Deku, DON'T FUCKING IGNORE ME!"

"Just listen to my voice, Izuku."

"DEKU!"

"Izuku…?"

"Deku."

"Izuku."

"…"

It just faded away…

Katsuki being gone filled the world with a strange sort of silence the green-haired boy wasn't quite sure he was prepared for. Not only were the obvious things gone (the voice calling out from behind him, the sound of school shoes scraping against the balcony floor, the uncanny noise of the blonde breathing behind him) but it felt like…Izuku's head was clearer, less heavy in a weird way. He couldn't say all of his bad thoughts were gone (and in all honesty he doubted they ever would be. He'd been through a lot. His whole damn class had been through a lot, and they were still discovering ways to cope with it. Sometimes people would wake up to the sight of cake in the kitchen, all painfully aware Satou had been stress baking in the middle of the night to occupy himself. Sometimes Jirou would leave a training spar with mascara running down her cheeks, still frustrated and fighting her instincts after being left with only half her quirk. And sometimes Izuku would catch Kacchan walking out of the counselor's office, or coming back to the dorms late with no explanations of where he was besides "went to see Edgeshot…", Izuku never asked any questions after that. They didn't judge one another anymore, not after everything that had happened, they all had a mutual understanding they were doing the best they could. And really, really, that was all that mattered, that they were their for one another, that they were trying their damn best.), but they were back to being far more manageable, not shouting at him, and not using old memories from the past to torture him. It felt like Izuku's brain had been put back in his body, like he was back on solid land after thrashing around in open water.

"…'Zuku?" That soft yet deep and familiar voice called out to him, words accented by the sensation of thumb-pads being run across his cheeks yet again. "Can you hear me, baby?" (Yet another word that left Izuku's heart absolutely giddy. He could see himself already, in the future when this whole thing was a still vivid yet slightly faded memory, covering his blushing face and trying to not let his heart explode as he played back the sound of Kacchan saying that word over, and over, and over again in his mind.)

Immediately, Izuku found himself nodding in response to Kacchan's words. He didn't quite know what to do for a second before his eye seemed to suddenly flicker themselves open (when had he closed them..? He couldn't quite remember the exact details, it made sense that he had though. He always tended to shut down a little when he wasn't in his "battle ready" head space and he was stuck in a sea of noise, and well- being stuck between a slightly squeaky-voiced, screaming Katsuki, and a Kacchan that, even with a soft tone, was speaking right next to his ear, yeah that certainly qualified as a sea of noise. So, perhaps his eyes had shut themselves on instinct…) and-

Oh.

Oh.

Kacchan was…right there, right in front of him, solid and real with his hands on Izuku's face. That wild blonde hair, that scar on his cheek, those tired red eyes- it was a sight Izuku knew so damn well he could probably sketch it from memory, but that didn't make it any less borderline mesmerizing.

"Yeah, there you go, out of your own head…" Kacchan said in a slightly praise-filled tone, a subtle smile creeping across his face, one that only wavered slightly at the edge from worry. (He could tell Izuku was okay, less overwhelmed, less lost, far more stable then he had been when Kacchan first stumbled across him, but it was also easy to tell the mere fact Izuku had gotten this bad and Kacchan hadn't known was bothering the blonde. Izuku could tell there was a rather inevitable conversation about this in their future, one that was probably gonna end in a lot of shed tears, tight hugs, and Izuku at the school counselor's doorstep.)

Izuku debated on mustering up a verbal response but ended up deciding the effort wasn't worth it. It didn't feel necessary in that moment, and well, in all honesty he was fucking exhausted (both emotionally from everything that had happened of course, but also physically. His sleep schedule had been royally fucked for a good while now, but noting how high the stars were in the sky, it was getting late even for him. And god, poor Kacchan, his strict bed time of nine pm had been long broken at this point…). So, Izuku simply settled for leaning into Kacchan's touch to show he was fully out of his own head. He pressed his face gently into the warm, calloused skin of Kacchan's palms, smiling ever so slightly as he silently relished in the fact he felt like he belonged there (hell, the simple fact he was even allowed to do that, to be touched by Kacchan so fondly, still made Izuku's pulse pick up a little.).

That subtle action seemed to satisfy Kacchan as a response though, the blonde-haired boy letting out a soft, affectionate huff as his hands stayed their on a Izuku's face, fingertips tracing the freckled skin with such unspoken fondness it left Izuku skin buzzing pleasantly.

They stood their silently for a few moments, gently tangled together. It gave Izuku time to fully calm his own breathing, lungs shaking that aching feeling away from them, and head still sore but feeling far less throbbing-ly painful like it had been earlier. Izuku was almost tempted to close his eyes again in all honesty, to sleepily push himself into Kacchan's arms and melt into a defenseless puddle, so fully trusting of the blonde that he wouldn't even worry where he would end up, simply letting his best friend tote him around while blissful sleep over took him (Izuku didn't do that though, Kacchan was tired too, and had been through a night just as long and hellish as Izuku's own, forcing him to drag around a half-asleep, green-haired lump was definitely cruel.). He didn't though, he stayed awake and he stayed looking at Kacchan.

(Where else would he ever wanna look?)

After what could have been minutes or hours of simply holding Izuku close and silently admiring him, Kacchan broke their silence, quietly clearing his throat. "Do you…feel alright enough to get out of here? I don't think it's doing either of us any good being up here for so long…" The blonde stated, tone careful, as if wanting to make sure Izuku knew he wasn't being rushed or forced.

(Leaving? God, Izuku could actually leave this balcony, he didn't have to run away and feel afraid of being haunted. He could just…go and pretend this dorm room never existed, lock the door from the inside, and let of the memory of it fade and wilt in his brain. That was strangely euphoric to think about, the idea of the memory of this mind fading into mere whisper, even if it was so, so far in the future. Izuku had hope though, hope he'd grow from this, hope things would get better, hope for his future. God, it still felt bizarre to actually say he had that…)

"Y-yeah I'm okay, and I-" Izuku paused for a second. He hesitated for a moment, a strand of time that couldn't be any longer than a handful of heartbeats, yet felt like a short millennia to Izuku. He debated with himself internally before he glanced back at that tempting edge one last time. He wondered if he'd ever look at the concrete surrounding the dormitory building the same way again. He wondered if anyone else beside himself, Kacchan, and that far-gone version of Katsuki would ever know what happened tonight. He wondered how many versions of himself existed that knew what it was like to fall from five stories, if they were content with their decisions, if their final moments were peace or panic, if their Kacchan's truly felt lost without them.

All Izuku could say was that he was happy he wasn't one of them.

"…I'm ready to go, Kacchan."