Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

. . .

Izuku Midoriya is a twenty-year-old university student with a triple major in physics, engineering, and biochemistry at the prestigious Musutafu Institute of Technology; better known socially as MITech. Alongside his extensive studies, he just so happens to be harbouring a deep truth about himself that he has yet to share with a singular soul...

But I bet you can guess as much.

For the past two years, Izuku has been living a double life as the notorious and amazing Spiderman — the one and only web-slinging vigilante who has become a symbol of hope across Japan. Swinging through the city’s skyline and protecting its people, Spiderman has captured the hearts and admiration of civilians... alongside becoming the subject of endless headlines and debates. But there’s one person whose approval Izuku has never been able to win.

Katsuki fucking Bakugo.

Katsuki is a twenty-one-year-old mutual prodigy also studying at MITech. Instead pursuing a triple major in applied mathematics, theoretical physics, and criminology. What a mouthful. His razor-sharp intellect is matched only by his unrelenting determination to make a change in the world, making him an obvious standout student among MITech’s student body. Numbers are his domain, and he wields them with the precision that could only be described as a weapon — analysing, calculating, and predicting with a brilliance that borders on terrifying...

Katsuki’s explosive temper is well-known among peers, but so is his genius. He has a knack for solving problems with an intensity that leaves others in awe — or, particularly frightened by him. Despite his brilliance, he carries a chip on his shoulder, stemming from years of feeling like he always had something to prove. That drive has made him a rising star, but his isolation from others knows no ends.

But Katsuki is more than just Izuku’s sharp-tongued, hot-headed roommate. He’s the figure head tied to his complicated past — a past neither of them has been able to forget. No matter how hard they try to push it down, it can't be ignored. And though they share the same cramped two-bedroom dorm, most days they avoid each other like the plague. With their unresolved history hanging between them like an unspoken storm, ready to rain down on them at any given moment...

As children, the pair were practically tied together at the hip with a bolt and chain. With their parents being close friends, it was a largely unavoidable friendship. One that for a good long while, was completely untainted, bathed in the mask of childhood innocence that would soon be washed away as fast as it came.

Katsuki grew to be... arrogant. Resentful, even. He loathed the way Izuku challenged him and hated how often the boy stole his spotlight. His smile became something close to unbearable to witness, and the way his freckled nose bridge crinkled whenever he did, made his stomach pit. Such a young child, with such big emotions.

He had always felt — different. And his feelings towards Izuku were a constant reminder of that difference. And instead of facing those uncomfortable feelings head-on, Katsuki only furthered into becoming somebody who Izuku grew to not recognise anymore.

The chain linking their hips together had rusted. Rotted, even. And it felt like Izuku had a new chain holding him down. Wrapped around his throat — with a firm hand holding the other end. Stringing him along down a long path of self-loathing, and torturous bullying that mutually knew no end.

And Izuku could never understand where he went wrong.

He could never fathom what on earth he could've possibly done to make Katsuki loathe him the way he seemed to. But god, he despised himself just as much as Katsuki seemed to. And it spiralled to be something even more sinister than it already was.

In their final year of middle school, Izuku came in each day with purpled bags under his eyes that seemed to deepen with unrest more and more each day. His skin paling and his once supple pink cheeks hollowing out - his arms thin and his hair perpetually messy.

Until one day, he disappeared from the register. And his long-time bully didn't catch a glimpse of him again. At least, not in school. And nobody even seemed to care. Maybe Katsuki had driven them to that point, given he'd gone out of his way to ensure that Izuku had not a singular soul left who considered him a 'friend' as he'd once been to him.

But still, Katsuki couldn't fathom why.

Why did Izuku up and leave so suddenly?

And selfishly, he wondered why he'd never even gotten so much as a goodbye?

But he knew the reason, deep down. He'd pushed Izuku to a point beyond return, and even he could tell as much. But it killed that even Izuku's mother Inko had stopped responding to his own mother's calls. Was this all his fault? No, it couldn't be.

Could it?

Katsuki caught wind in the coming years that Izuku had moved to Shiketsu High, completely mirroring their original plan that they would always end up in U.A. High. It was a dream they'd once shared as young children, given the school had a pristine record when it came to STEM-focused subjects — and he and Izuku were once like two sides of the same coin. Both striving towards the same futures, both with keen minds that yearned to explore deeper meanings and for the answers to complex questions that other kids their age weren't even considering.

But to Katsuki, it only led to rivalry.

Which was, another reason why he behaved the way he once did towards the freckled boy.

He had to push him down so that he could remain on top. It was the only way he knew how to live, and it was the only way he found worth in himself. To be something greater, to be someone greater. And Izuku only stood in his way, tainting his ideas with feelings he could never truly grasp. Every glance in his direction only made the pit in his stomach hollow out further. But that fucking nerd had to be the one thing tethering him to reality, didn't he?

Katsuki spent many nights laying up staring at his ceiling wondering what Izuku was doing with his life. Wondering who he'd become, whether those deep purple eye-bags had faded. Whether he'd learnt to smile again after his own torturous and almost constant belittlement. And god, he felt guilty. He didn't realise how much he cared until Izuku was no longer a constant in his life. He was gone. Truly, gone.

That is until they were forced to be together again.

. . .

In Izuku's final year of middle school, he was found limp on the floor of the bathroom by his mother. A pill bottle in his hand — with his lips purpling as his eye bags had. He was sputtering up foaming saliva from the overdose, gasping for air with each laboured breath, barely clinging onto life. And his eyes remained unfocused as Inko slapped the side of her poor son's face to keep him awake, begging him to stay with her. Begging him to fight as she screamed at the operator on the other side of the phone.

Izuku could still remember every word she said, even now. Though at the time, he couldn't muster up enough strength to speak in his delirium. But the words still replay, over and over in his head, on the worst of his days.

"My son!"

"My son, he's — god, no! Izuku! Baby, please no!"

"Please, please help! He's taken pills, I don't know how many. He's barely breathing, oh please, please god help me."

"My baby, my poor baby!"

"Stay awake Izuku, please, don't close your eyes baby!"

"Izuku!"

Her guttural screams and crying still ring in his ears to this day, mocking him at every corner. And he still remembers the taste of the charcoal substance he was forced to choke down after the overdose. It prevented the absorbency of the drugs. But the acrid taste still mocks his tastebuds every so often — and guilt eats him up every time he meets his mother's gaze, though years have passed since his attempt on his life.

He admitted to her the bullying he was facing in school, admitted how depressed he'd gotten, how he thought he had no escape from himself — or his peers... Or Kacchan. And how suicide felt like the only correct option to him. And now, looking back, he'd realised how truly sick and twisted that was. But honestly, for a good long while after his attempt, he wished it'd worked.

He really, really did.

That is — until he took an internship at a local bioengineering lab, EndCorp, during winter break in his final year at Shiketsu High. Something went wrong, terribly wrong. And a genetically modified radioactive spider found its way right up Izuku's arm. He hadn't even noticed, despite the franticism of the scientists all running around exclaiming how a spider had escaped. And he went home that evening as though nothing at all had happened.

Until he woke up the next day, feeling stronger than he ever had. Sweating, more than he ever had. His toothbrush stuck to his fingers almost like he had glue at his fingertips as he tried to brush his teeth — and he even ended up pulling down the entire bar of the shower curtain and smashing the porcelain bath by merely stepping into it. Something was severely wrong, and he was beginning to comprehend why the scientists were running around so frantically the way that they were the previous day.

He eventually grasped what had happened. How could he not have? And, as soon as he realised the extent of the physical capabilities he'd been gifted with — he knew he'd be an idiot not to do something with them. So for months, he shut himself either in his room or in the lab of his school, sneaking around in the dead of night to create each and ever integral part of the identity he was building for himself. Sketching out rough concepts, making terrible prototypes of a substance that he planned on using with gadgets sitting on his wrists, to sling himself around with. It all seemed like a dream.

It required a tremendous amount of trial and error. And he'd gone through a ridiculous amount of green spandex creating suit after suit until he thought it was perfect. Eventually, he even perfected the sticky webbing and the web slingers. And it felt like everything just clicked into place one day.

'Bugman!'

No, that's not right.

'Spiderdude!'

Nah, not quite.

'Spider... man?'

Yeah, that sounds about right.

Here he was, a guy who barely survived middle school and had to claw his way back from the edge, now deciding what superhero brand to give himself. Like some cheap comic book character. But truly, it was the most excited he'd felt about anything in a good long while. He didn't feel he had a future until his future bit him in the arm. And awakened his underlying passions in a way that seemed to tie his entire world into place, giving him purpose. Freedom.

And nothing felt as good as helping civilians, even with the smallest and most trivial textbook tasks like helping an old lady get her elderly cat out of a tree. Or even something as huge as stopping a bank robbery — or even, saving people from themselves. He often dedicated himself to talking people down from suicide attempts if he caught wind of them. Given, his history. It only felt right. And each time he did it, he was honest about his past. Of course, with details missing given he had an identity to conceal.

Being Spiderman was nothing short of extraordinary. But of course, as amazing as it is, it has its trials and tribulations. And they weighed heavy on the young adult who lays beneath the mask. Because Izuku is often subject to intensive criticism online, conspiracy theorists, and people trying to unmask his identity, constantly. People slandering his good-nature, accusing him of having 'ulterior motives' and truly being a criminal. And honestly, sometimes it felt like all the good he did was worth nothing if people were just going to talk him down, even if behind a screen. And sometimes he couldn't help himself from scrolling mindlessly on the deepest and darkest corners of the internet; reading what random strangers had to say about him. And even though most of the time it was validating and kind words offering the young hero support, often the insults and threats made him feel fifteen years old again.

He could still taste the charcoal. The self-hatred, and doubt. And his bullies' taunts rang in his ears, Bakugo's insults, and the nights he spent curled up into himself in his bed, crying until he couldn't breathe. Those memories mocked him. It was like he could feel the cold tiles of the bathroom floor against his lithe frame, reading each and every word. And re-reading them, over and over. It was like self-torture. But he couldn't help himself.

Though despite his lingering difficulties, everything was relatively smooth sailing, for a while. During his first year of university, he decided to stay at home with his mother. He wasn't exactly ready to let her go, and he had a good feeling she was too afraid to let him leave yet. So — he spent a year proving to her that he was getting better. That he'd grown long past his final year of middle school. That his depression that stretched for the years after his attempt, was slowly subsiding. But she was growing suspect, not of his mental state, but of the bruises that sometimes lay bare on his cheeks or knuckles. Of the way his smile seemed often so forced. And Inko was nothing if not a caring, and eager mother who still coddles her 'baby boy'. Regardless of how he's a grown man now.

It was an incredibly, difficult, goodbye. But he knew it was necessary. So, he packed up his things and was allocated a roommate in August before he was expected to move in. He didn't mind how he was going to have one, considering he figured they wouldn't be sharing a room — so there wouldn't be any real difficulty, right?

Loud incorrect buzzer.

. . .

Izuku had thought his biggest worries would be keeping his late-night escapades as Spiderman under wraps or just dealing with the headache of juggling two lives. But standing here in the doorway of his new apartment, he was beginning to realise the real problems were far more personal.

Izuku was clutching his suitcase with an iron grip after dragging it up four flights of stairs, his yellow backpack slung over one shoulder holding the real essentials, (his suit and his usual white t-shirts with silly slogans).

Izuku fumbled with the keys, before he shoved them into the lock and pushed the door open with his hip, his eyes glued to the floor as he stepped inside.

And as soon as he looked up, there he was.

Katsuki Bakugo, sitting on the long brown couch, beer bottle in hand, staring at the television screen. The echoes of a sports game filtering through the air. Izuku felt his heart lurch in his chest when Katsuki’s sharp eyes flicked toward the door.

Time seemed to stop.

Their eyes locked.

Crimson met Forest Green.

Izuku froze. 'What the fuck?' Katsuki’s lips formed the words silently, but the shock was there in the flicker of his gaze. For a long moment, he didn’t even recognize the figure standing in the doorway. The moment their eyes locked, Katsuki’s mind short-circuited. It can't be him, was his first thought. But no, there was no mistaking it.

The truth hit him like a sledgehammer.

Izuku, fucking, Midoriya.

Izuku was different. Changed.

He was taller now, standing at least 5'10", which was a shock, considering how much shorter he'd once been compared to the blonde. His oversized white t-shirt did little to conceal how much broader he'd grown. Muscles that hadn't existed in the scrawny kid Katsuki used to shove around now filled out his frame. His messy, signature green hair, once a bright mop of chaos, had darkened over the years. Strands of deeper emerald weaved through it, a stark contrast to the wild untamed bright tufts that used to hang in his face. The pale skin marked by freckles now looked more angular, and sharper, his once timid features now defined by the grace of adulthood. And his cheeks weren't hollow like they once were in the months before he disappeared from Katsuki's life — but they were defined.

He sure looked a hell of a lot different.

The same damned nerd that had haunted Katsuki for all of those years, was stood right there...

Flashes of freckles, a crinkled nose bridge, and wide, hopeful eyes always crept into his thoughts when he least expected them. Katsuki didn’t want to think about Izuku. Didn’t want to feel the gnawing ache of guilt that twisted in his gut whenever he replayed those years in middle school. And yet here he was, staring at the ghost of his past, in flesh and blood, standing in their now shared dorm room like some kind of cosmic joke.

Those dark green eyes, the eyes that used to burn with uncertainty — were swimming with something Katsuki couldn't even begin to comprehend now. His gaze, though, was still tinged with that familiar deer-in-headlights look, though it was less obvious now, and the dark bags under his eyes truly were less prominent than they had been years ago. Which was always something Katsuki had wondered about...

Katsuki’s fingers clenched tighter around the beer bottle. His eyebrows twitching in disbelief. He couldn’t look away. The kid — the nerd — had grown up. But what the hell

was this version of him?

He could almost feel the phantom weight of Izuku's gaze from their childhood — how the nerd used to look at him like he was some sort of hero.

Not anymore, he thought bitterly, gripping the beer bottle so tightly now he could feel the glass groaning under his fingers.

Izuku, on the other hand, found himself staring just as hard at the sight before him. Katsuki’s appearance had evolved too. The spiked blonde hair was shaved at the back and sides now, the wild style tamed into something a little more controlled. An eyebrow piercing glinted under the dull light of the room, alongside small slits giving him an edge that Izuku didn't recognise. Piercings adorning his ears, too. And he stared at the way the tight black muscle tee he wore clung to his torso, clearly showing off his bulging biceps — with arms that could crush a man. Jesus. And he still had that menacing air about him, the kind that had always made Izuku fear for his safety, even now, even though he wasn't just a scrawny little target anymore.

And for a brief moment, he felt something — fear — settling deep in his stomach.

And the blonde's crimson eyes instinctively continued scanning him, taking in every detail. The wiry muscle visible beneath the oversized white shirt still taunting him,and the confident way he stood despite the awkward tension hanging thick in the room. And those damned glasses he used to wear — gone. Katsuki’s first words came tumbling out before he could stop himself.

Katsuki’s lips parted as he took in Izuku’s appearance. He blinked, disoriented, then narrowed his eyes, muttering under his breath.

“Where the hell are your glasses?”

Izuku blinked. The question hit him like a punch. His glasses. He hadn’t worn them in years. After the bite, his vision had cleared up, and he'd stopped needing to wear them all together. Contacts, he repeated in his head, surprised that the first thing Katsuki would ask about after all this time was his damn glasses. He had to make an excuse, and it had to make sense.

“Contacts,” Izuku answered, still trying to process the reality of standing in the same room with the boy who used to torment him. Katsuki just nodded. Then, without another word, he grabbed the remote and switched the channel. Izuku’s jaw clenched. Was that it? After all this time, and that’s all Katsuki could manage? He would’ve expected him to lunge at him by now, throw some insult his way, demand an explanation, or more.

But no.

Silence.

But part of Katsuki did want to yell, to demand the answers he so desperately needed.

'Where the hell have you been? Why did you leave without saying anything? Why didn’t you fight back? Why didn’t you ever hate me as much as I hated myself for what I did to you?'

But another part of him — a louder, angrier part — wanted to shove it all down. To act like he didn’t care. To act like Izuku showing up out of nowhere didn’t feel like someone had sucker-punched him in the gut. He wouldn’t let himself show weakness, not now, not ever. He couldn't.

This wasn’t the Katsuki that Izuku remembered.

The silence was deafening. It felt unnatural — too still, too cold.

In Katsuki’s mind, every time he remembered the way he'd treated the boy now stood mere metres away from him, sharp pangs of guilt shot through him, twisting in his gut, gnawing at him like a parasite. And it happened all the damn time. And now, he was stood mere metres away. But, Izuku wasn’t the same kid anymore. The scrawny little nerd who would cower in the face of his torment had disappeared. This version of him, this stranger — was taller, broader, and sharper.

And he couldn’t handle it.

Though, the silence stretched on, thick and suffocating.

Katsuki couldn’t understand why his first words had been about the damn glasses. That was the first thing he had to say after all these years? Idiot. Izuku looked taken aback, blinking in confusion. He said something about contacts, his voice steady but his expression uneasy, and Katsuki barely processed it. His thoughts were too loud. Anger, regret, and confusion all colliding in his mind, threatening to consume him.

Katsuki clenched his jaw, forcing himself to focus on the TV. The noise of the game sounded muffled, and distant, like it was coming from somewhere far away. The cheers and commentary all felt hollow.

He wasn’t ready for this.

He wasn’t ready for Izuku Midoriya to be back in his life.

But there was no escaping it now.

And Izuku, despite his newfound confidence, felt just as small as he had when he was younger with Katsuki there. Still, he grabbed his suitcase, all the whilst clutching the yellow strap hung on his shoulder like a lifeline as he shuffled toward his new room. The weight of the situation, of being here with Katsuki, was almost too much to bear right now. His breath came in short bursts, his mind racing with memories he couldn’t quite process. How had it all come to this? How had he ended up here, standing face to face with the boy who used to torment him? The boy who used to torture him?

And how the hell was he supposed to move forward now?

. . .

The months after that initial interaction were certainly tense. They were avoidant, and whenever they argued about even the simplest of things like who was going to re-stock the fridge, it always felt like there was a substantial weight behind each of their interactions. Like there were words just dying to be said, but neither of them even dared to address the elephant in the room.

They both tip-toed around each other, barely ever even daring to even shoot a look in the other's direction.

And Izuku found himself strangely glad about it.

He'd heard from mutual acquaintances that Katsuki was relatively quiet in his classes. But when it came to topics he was passionate about — he was a force to be reckoned with. He wasn't one for group projects, but he didn't shy away from leading others. Like he was naturally born for the role, without even realising it himself. He wasn't a bully, in fact, he'd even heard hearsay that Katsuki was somebody who stood up for those being targeted in his first year.

Which was, a shock, to say the least.

But it did always irk him how Katsuki seemed to not really have many friends. There were a few people Izuku spotted him with, a boy with bright red hair who was the main person Izuku recognised — and occasionally another group that consisted of people who looked straight out of some kind of rock band. Just like Katsuki did now.

But even then, in passing, Katsuki still seemed incredibly withdrawn and closed off from those around him.

And the only person he saw somewhat often was who he learned to be Eijiro Kirishima, the spiky red-haired boy who Izuku had taken notice of early into moving in with Katsuki. And after doing some digging, he found that the boy was majoring in sports engineering, which made sense given he'd overheard many conversations about workout regiments through the thin walls of their dorm.

He figured the pair had met through their shared passion for fitness, which wasn't something that was surprising to Izuku. He was interested in it himself — but considering he just woke up one morning swole as fuck, he didn't know the first thing about it. But had to act like he did — if questioned.

He'd even ended up having a brief interaction with the boyish redhead, where he'd asked what his routine was like. And what his diet consisted of, seeming genuinely interested in him and his life. But Katsuki's crimson gaze during the interaction felt like it was burning straight through his skull as he sputtered nervously to respond. He'd managed to play it off like he just ate whatever was most convenient but kept it light and said how he likes to go on 'evening runs' — and that he lifts weights sometimes.

Obviously, bullshit.

Though the runs certainly explained to Katsuki why Izuku would disappear of a night time, often. But he always wondered why he would never leave through the front door. He always heard clattering at the back of their dorm complex at the fire chute, sometimes at ridiculous hours.

It was, strange.

To say the least.

But beyond those short interactions, they kept to themselves.

Though, one thing Izuku had noticed — was how often Katsuki was sat in the living room glued to the television screen, with a notebook and pen clutched between his fingers. Scribbling notes as he stared at the screen in a daze. And oftentimes, t was reports consisting of the antics of himself, Spiderman on the screen.

Katsuki's criminology interest allowed him to understand criminal behaviour on a deeper level, unravelling patterns, and predicting their movements. And he dreamed to revolutionise crime prevention, with the continuous belief that logic and strategy can solve even the most chaotic of problems. Most problems.

Because, beneath his fiery drive, lies a deep-seated frustration. Katsuki can’t stand disorder and unpredictability. And nothing embodies both of those more than Spiderman, the vigilante who swings through Musutafu like he owns the damn place. And while the media glorifies Spiderman as a hero, Katsuki knows the truth. He's a reckless wildcard who undermines the work of real professionals. And he will never be more than that.

And Katsuki’s disdain for Spiderman is only rivalled by the tension he feels around his roommate. Their every interaction is filled with unspoken grudges and unresolved guilt, it's goddamn suffocating. Izuku’s constant mutterings about experiments or his late-night tinkerings that he gets up to, drive Katsuki up the wall. But, it's not just that. It’s the lingering sense of familiarity between them — of what used to be — that irritates him most. That's what kills him.

And Katsuki doesn’t know, is that the chaos he hates most — Spiderman — the 'hero' that makes him question his own reality, and plagues him with questions about how on earth it was even biologically possible to be such a disaster, is the same damn disaster he lives with.

The same disaster who plagues his every other thought.

Tragic, truly.

And as months went by, Izuku couldn't help but notice the disdain that Katsuki seemed to have towards the hero. In fact, he paid attention to it. Even if silently, because he couldn't help but want to change and challenge his perspective. Sure, it was self-serving, and really shouldn't have been at the top of Izuku's priority list, but he'd rather focus on that than confront the serious issues that lingered between him and the blonde.

And one morning, Izuku trudged himself into the living room after a long night previous. He'd caught a bank robbery in action — and managed to diffuse the tense situation with his quick reaction times, inhuman dexterity, and unnatural ability to predict each and every move from the criminals. Who also had hostages at gunpoint. Great!

It was all over the news, and the hero walked out of the situation without a scratch. The same couldn't be said for the criminals, however. And Izuku's chest swelled with pride as he saw a video of himself flashing on the television screen. The curtains were drawn, and though it was dark in the room, he could see the silhouette of a certain blonde illuminated by the screen.

Notebook in hand, per usual. Pen in the other.

Izuku couldn't help but keep his eyes glued to the screen as he shuffled towards the fridge, opening it to grab an energy drink can before he slowly crept towards the sofa across from Katsuki. He cracked open the can, causing the blonde to glare in his direction, but it didn't seem very charged with anything malicious. Those silent glances were often the only real form of communication the pair had between them.

He sat down, leaning forward as he took a sip of the cold liquid which soothed his soul. He then stared at the television for a few more moments, before glancing over to Katsuki.

"What's your deal with Spiderman?" Izuku suddenly asked as though the words had forcibly escaped him. He almost wanted to clasp a hand over his own mouth and force himself to shut up — but god he couldn't help himself. He was nothing if not curious, and he couldn't stop himself from at least getting some kind of glimpse into Katsuki's mind.

Even if it slightly risked his own identity, given Katsuki's naturally perceptive nature, which he was acutely aware of.

Katsuki's gaze shot from the screen back towards Izuku, taking in his half-asleep composure. His hair messy, and his lips parted gently as though he was surprised. He felt himself hum lightly in vague amusement before he leaned forward, dropping his notebook and pen down onto the coffee table before he leaned back into the cushioned sofa, crossing his arms firmly.

Katsuki regarded him with a sharpness that made Izuku instantly regret his curiosity. His crimson eyes narrowed as if dissecting the intent behind the question, searching for any hidden agenda. "What’s my deal with Spiderman?" he repeated, his voice low but laced with that familiar bite like a distant storm just waiting to roll in. He tilted his head slightly, the faintest ghost of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, but it wasn’t friendly. It was the kind of smirk that felt like a warning.

"He’s a loose cannon. Reckless. Thinks he can solve every damn problem by throwing himself headfirst into danger like an idiot."

Katsuki’s voice carried a certain heat, the kind that came when he was speaking from a place far deeper than just irritation. He paused, almost as if weighing his next words, before continuing. "The guy has no plan, no strategy. Just chaos. That’s not heroism. That’s just someone with a death wish who gotten lucky too many times."

Izuku’s fingers tightened slightly around the can in his hands, his throat suddenly dry despite the chilled drink. He kept his expression neutral, though Katsuki’s words struck sharper than they should have. He didn’t interrupt, letting the blonde continue to unravel all of his thoughts.

"And don’t even get me started on the mask," Katsuki spat, leaning forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees as his glare bore into Izuku. "Hiding behind it like a coward. If you’re gonna be a hero, you don’t get to pick and choose what people know about you. You don’t get to keep secrets while you’re out there playing saviour, you show your damn face and admit who you are and that you're proud of the shit you do, even if you're fucking useless in the end."

Izuku tried not to flinch under his gaze, instead forcing himself to take another slow sip of his drink, the metal of the can cool against his lips, contrasting the heat of Katsuki's words. He willed himself to say something, anything to keep Katsuki from digging too deeply, but his mind was already spiralling.

The words 'useless' and 'coward' echoed louder than they should have in his mind.

"That’s... a little harsh," Izuku muttered, his voice soft, almost timid, as if he were afraid of poking a grizzly bear. "I mean, isn’t it possible that he’s just doing his best? Maybe he’s not trying to be reckless, maybe he just doesn’t have the same resources as, I don’t know, the police or a government agency with the money to not be as reckless."

Katsuki’s glare deepened, his lip curling slightly as he straightened up. "Oh, please," he shot back, his tone dripping with disdain. "Don’t make excuses for him. If he’s gonna act like a hero, then he should be held to the same standard as the rest of us. If he can’t handle that, then he should get the hell out of the way and let professionals do the work."

Izuku swallowed hard, feeling the weight of Katsuki’s words press against his chest like an iron fist. It wasn’t just the criticism — it was the intensity behind it, the conviction that Katsuki carried like it was written into his very bones. He wasn’t just angry at Spiderman. He was disappointed for some reason. Maybe, jealous. Izuku hoped that were the reason, not the other things.

Because he didn't want to accept that maybe Spiderman had somehow personally betrayed him.

That couldn't be the case. Because it would kill him. It would kill Izuku.

And that realisation... stung. More than Izuku cared to admit.

Izuku set the can down on the coffee table with a soft clink, his jaw tightening as Katsuki’s words settled over him like a storm cloud. He wasn’t sure what annoyed him more — the way Katsuki dismissed Spiderman so easily, or the nagging guilt creeping up his spine because Katsuki wasn’t entirely wrong.

"You’re acting like he’s out there making things worse," Izuku said, his voice firmer this time, though it still held an edge of hesitance. "But the city’s safer because of him. You can’t argue with the numbers. Crime rates have dropped, and there’s no way the police could’ve handled half of the things he’s stopped without a lot more collateral damage."

Katsuki scoffed, the sound sharp and dismissive. He leaned back in his seat, arms still crossed like he was preparing to dismantle Izuku’s argument piece by piece.

"Yeah, because having some idiot swinging around the city with no accountability is real sustainable," he shot back, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "What happens when he screws up? When someone dies because of one of his so-called ‘heroic’ stunts? Then what, huh?"

Izuku’s green eyes narrowed, the faintest flicker of frustration bubbling up beneath his otherwise calm demeanour. "And what happens if he isn't there?" he countered, leaning forward slightly. "That bank robbery yesterday, do you think the cops would’ve gotten there in time to stop those hostages from getting hurt? He saved lives, Kacchan. That has to count for something."

Katsuki’s glare intensified, his posture stiffening as he leaned forward to match Izuku’s energy. "It doesn’t mean shit if he’s just making up the rules as he goes!" he snapped, his voice rising slightly. "You don’t get to play hero without taking responsibility for the mess you leave behind. Do you think he’s so great just because he shows up, punches a few guys, and swings off into the sunset? That’s not real hero work. That’s just fucking showboating."

Izuku’s hands clenched into fists on his knees, his nails digging into his palms. He knew Katsuki had no idea who he was really talking about, but the words still stung like daggers.

"You’re not being fair," he said, his voice tighter now, frustration bleeding through. "Spiderman does everything he can to save people —"

"—Save people?" Katsuki cut him off, his voice sharp and biting. "Don’t kid yourself, Deku. He’s just a dumbass vigilante who doesn’t know how to stay in his fuckin' lane. You think he’s some noble hero, but the truth is, he’s just a selfish prick who wants to feel important because he doesn't feel important otherwise."

Izuku’s breath caught in his throat, the words hitting far too close to home. And Izuku couldn't help but notice how Katsuki had called him by that god-forsaken nickname. The one that, for years, made him feel so pathetic and small.

He hated hearing it again.

And he could just about taste the charcoal on his tongue.

His heart pounded in his chest as he struggled to keep his composure. He could feel the urge to yell back rising, but he forced himself to stay grounded, his voice trembling slightly as he replied, struggling to ignore the way his mind was plagued with the bitter memories of his past.

Of what Katsuki had reduced him to.

"Maybe he’s not perfect," Izuku admitted, his tone quieter but no less firm. "Maybe he makes mistakes. But at least he’s trying. At least he’s doing something to help instead of just sitting around criticising from the sidelines."

Katsuki’s eyes widened slightly at the jab, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something almost vulnerable in his expression. But it was gone just as quickly, replaced by a spark of anger that ignited like a match to gasoline.

"You think I’m just sitting around?" Katsuki growled, his voice low and dangerous. "You think I don’t give a damn about what happens out there? I’ve spent every damn day this past year and a half busting my ass to figure out how to stop people like him from screwing things up —"

"—People like him?" Izuku interrupted, his voice rising as his frustration boiled over. "He’s not the enemy, Katsuki! He’s doing everything he can to make things better, and all you’re doing is tearing him down because he doesn’t fit into your perfect little box of how things should be! Of how you want things to be!"

The room fell silent for a moment, the tension between them so thick it was suffocating. Katsuki’s jaw was clenched so tightly it looked like it might snap, his hands gripping the edge of the couch as if to keep himself from standing up and pacing. Knuckles white.

"You don’t get it," he finally said, his voice quieter now, but no less intense. His crimson eyes burned with a mix of anger and something else, something deeper, harder to define.

"You don’t know what it’s like to see someone like him, someone who could actually make a difference, waste it by being so goddamn reckless. I want things to get better too. But there’s a right way to do it. And that sure as hell isn’t it." He punctuated his sentence by pointing at the screen in front of the two of them, Izuku's own masked face being at the centre of where Katsuki was pointing.

He gazed from the screen, back to Katsuki.

Izuku continued to stare at him, his chest heaving slightly as he tried to process his words. There was something raw in Katsuki’s voice that he hadn’t expected, something that made his anger falter just slightly. But before he could respond, Katsuki stood up abruptly, grabbing his notebook and pen from the coffee table.

"Forget it," Katsuki muttered, his voice gruff as he turned towards his room. "I’m not having this conversation with you." He turned on his heels, storming down the hallway.

And just like that, the storm passed, leaving Izuku sitting alone in the living room, the sound of the television droning on in the background. His chest felt heavy, and his mind was racing with everything Katsuki had said.

He wanted to be angry — wanted to push back and defend Spiderman.

To defend himself.

But deep down, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Katsuki’s words had struck a nerve for a reason.

Because maybe... Katsuki wasn’t entirely wrong.

But the urge to prove the blonde wrong loomed over him like an unavoidable fate that he just had to face.

He just didn't know how.

. . .

The weeks after that argument were quiet. Strangely, quiet. Even for the pair who seemed to already avoid prolonged interaction at all costs. It was wildly uncomfortable — and all the whilst he noticed that Katsuki seemed even more intent on studying Spiderman than he even did beforehand.

Typical!

As Spiderman, Izuku took Katsuki's words straight to his heart. But also, he truly considered his perspective. And he'd actually begun to stop acting so reckless, formulating proper and solid plans of action before engaging in tense combat situations, which was atypical of his usual behaviours. Because he truly considered Katsuki's thoughts and feelings more than he did anybody else, admittedly...

He usually led fist first into combat beforehand, and honestly a lot of his head-strong nature that he had as Spiderman had been something that Izuku had mirrored from Katsuki's personality. Growing up, Katsuki was Izuku's only image of strength.

True, real strength.

And though he grew to be so deeply wounded by him, he couldn't help but picture him whenever he thought of what it meant to be strong. Often mirroring his mannerisms in tense fighting situation, smirking beneath the mask the way Katsuki always did when he was proven right about something.

It was pathetic, actually.

And he couldn't fathom why he even thought of Katsuki in the first place in situations like that, even if it was subconsciously.

The boy who played a vital part in destroying him.

Breaking him down piece by piece until he was left a hollow husk of the bright boy he used to be. He loathed Katsuki for that. Every day he'd try to pretend like things were normal, like he was fine with their living situation. But whenever he caught himself thinking for too long, he always ended up back there.

In those classrooms.

Pinned up against the wall with a teenage Katsuki in his face, degrading him, and making him feel less than human.

Undeserving of even being alive.

He knew that if he thought too long about it, it would consume him. And one thing he'd learnt from his years of suffering in mental anguish... is that he was damn good at ignoring things.

And misplacing his feelings. He was great at that, too.

It was around eight in the evening, and Izuku was swinging through the streets of Japan like Tarzan in the jungle. The wind whipping through his viridian suit, making him feel more alive than ever. Like it was just him and his webs against the world.

Crime had been pretty dry recently — but nevertheless, he'd kept up with patrols. Every night. And he listened intently to the walky-talkies he'd hacked his way into. Sometimes he wished he had some kind of assistant to help him out with keeping tabs on all of that nonsense, but he knew it would make him an idiot to reveal his identity to anyone.

It would make him even more of an idiot to give somebody beyond himself that kind of power over his duties.

Being Spiderman was a burden he aimed to carry alone, and that was final...

But admittedly, it did get incredibly difficult to keep to himself sometimes.

He found himself pushing people away oftentimes if they attempted to get close to him — which was a habit he'd had since middle school. After being used to having no friends for so long, it jarred him whenever anybody showed any kind of interest in him.

In Shiketsu High, a girl, who Izuku remembered her name to be 'Camie', had pined for Izuku for the years he was there. And had even confessed such on multitudes of occasions. But each time Izuku pushed her away and refused to acknowledge her feelings. He didn't understand why she even liked him, given his melancholic attitude and withdrawn nature. She still followed him around like some kind of stray puppy. But Midoriya wasn't interested, and especially not in someone who acted like some kind of smitten fool But perhaps that was a little harsh... but he had other thoughts in mind.

And though he knew there was likely more to her, he didn't care.

Because after he was bitten by that spider, he had no other cares in the world. And he wouldn't entertain somebody just because they showed affection towards him. He had no time for that, as difficult as it was to handle his teenage hormones...

He didn't know why thoughts of her flashed in his mind so suddenly as he swung, but he supposed it was likely due to the lingering feeling of detachment he'd had from every single person in his life. The solitude he lived in was starting to actually feel like a prison.

And the bars were closing in, much like the chain around his neck.

The city was sprawled beneath him, alive with its usual chaos. Neon signs buzzed faintly against the evening sky, their reflections shimmering in puddles left by the rain earlier that day hundreds of meters below him.

But as he swung off a particularly tall building, he felt the back of his neck suddenly tingle. And the whole world seemed to slow. He was used to the feeling now. His senses had been working in over-drive ever since he was bitten by the spider.

So he knew, that something was wrong.

Something was, seriously, wrong.

. . .

Katsuki was walking home from a criminology event, his mind preoccupied with dissecting a string of high-profile crimes in Musutafu that he and his classmates had been plagued with the task of deciphering.

He figured that despite the effort he and his peers were putting in, likely their efforts would go to waste, given their status as just mere students. But still , he wanted to prove to his professor that he was worth something.

Something more.

That he was going far in the field, that he was more than cut out to be taken seriously.

He sighed to himself, which made his hot breath come out in a burst of white against the cool night breeze as he kept his hands stuffed in the confines of his leather jacket. He didn't usually walk this way back to the dorms, in fact, he barely knew the area he was in well at all. Since the criminology event was at some off-campus community hall, he had just guessed which way was best for him to take.

He walked down a particularly dark alley, eyebrows furrowed as he glanced around nonchalantly, like he had not a worry or care in the world. He analysed the coloured graffiti sprawled out on the brick walls, and became suddenly aware of the faint voices approaching in the distance. But they were drowned out by the sudden sound of squeaking when what looked to be a rat ran right past his foot.

Katsuki held himself back from gagging as he continued to walk, black boots hitting the pavement beneath him with more fervour in each step than the last.

He just couldn't shake the uneasy feeling in his stomach that was slowly starting to threaten him — though.

And just as he got to the end of the alley, he saw figures from each corner of his eye approaching him. The end of the alley split off in two ways, one being a dead end and the other leading into another unlit back alley. Two men loomed from each side, and Katsuki stood right in the middle of them. He had aimed to keep walking, but he felt an arm abruptly pulling him back — and he halted to a forced stop.

Katsuki’s head snapped around, crimson eyes narrowing as he instinctively wrenched his arm away from the stranger’s grip. The man who’d grabbed him had a smug, crooked grin plastered across his face, his yellowing teeth gleaming in the dim light from a flickering streetlamp overhead. Another figure stepped out of the shadows, blocking the way Katsuki had just come, while two more moved to linger in front of him.

Katsuki’s jaw tightened, and his body immediately coiled like a spring.

“Lost, are we?” the man who grabbed him sneered, his voice low and taunting. He was taller than Katsuki by a few inches, despite the fact that Katsuki stood at an impressive 6"1', his bulk cast a shadow over him.

“Fancy jacket, kid. You must be doing pretty well for yourself, huh?”

Katsuki said nothing, his gaze darting to the other men surrounding him. His mind worked quickly, analysing the situation like a chessboard. Four of them now. Two were taller than him, and one of them — the one leaning casually against the wall, had his hand suspiciously close to his jacket pocket. A knife? A gun? Katsuki couldn’t be sure, but he wasn’t about to stick around and find out.

“I don’t have time for this crap,” Katsuki muttered, his voice sharp and cutting as he turned to walk away, choosing the narrow alley that wasn’t blocked entirely that would likely take him to the main road quicker.

But before he could take more than a step, the man in front of him moved to block his path, arms spread out lazily. “Hey, now. Where ya' off to so fast? We’re just trying to have a friendly conversation wit' cha'.”

“Move,” Katsuki snapped, his tone laced with venom now. He didn’t bother hiding the annoyance in his voice, the fire in his crimson eyes daring them to try something. Anything.

The man chuckled darkly, shaking his head. “Feisty, huh? Well, that’s too bad. See, my boys and I were thinking you might want to share what you’ve got on you. You know, help us out a little. Times are tough.” He feigned a frown.

Katsuki clicked his tongue, his temper bubbling dangerously close to the surface. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, and though he wasn’t armed, he wasn’t about to roll over and let himself get mugged like some weakling. “I’m not giving you jack. You wanna try me? Go ahead. See how far you get.”

The thug’s grin widened, and the others stepped closer, their footsteps echoing off the narrow walls. One of them pulled a knife from his pocket, the blade glinting. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that,” he said, his tone mocking. “But you really shouldn’t talk big when you’re outnumbered, tough guy.”

Katsuki bristled at the insult, his eyes darting between them as he shifted his weight, readying himself to fight if he had to. He hated being underestimated, and he wasn’t about to let these losers get the better of him. But as much as he hated to admit it, the odds weren’t in his favour. He could feel his pulse pounding in his ears, his body tense and ready to explode, but before he could make his move —

A sharp thwip broke through the tension, followed by a startled grunt.
One of the men — the one with the knife — was yanked backwards as something white and sticky wrapped around his wrist, the blade clattering to the ground.

“What the hell?!” another one of the thusg shouted, whipping his head around just in time to see a figure drop down from the fire escape above, landing in a crouch between Katsuki and the group of men.

The figure straightened, and Katsuki’s eyes widened as the unmistakable green suit came into view.

Spiderman.

“Wow,” Spiderman drawled, his voice light and full of an easy confidence that grated on Katsuki’s nerves immediately. Izuku forcibly deepened his voice as Spiderman regardless to remain un-detected socially, but especially in this instance, he was putting extra effort into concealing his usual tone of voice. Forcing himself to sound confident, smug, even, not so timid. Even changing his intonations, and the way he pronounced certain letters. It was damn tough, but he'd done it before after running into people he knew beneath the mask.

And he especially couldn't give himself away now, not when Katsuki was the one he was saving. His fucking roommate, and the only person who he believes knows him well enough that it could rival his own mother.

“Four on one? That’s just rude, guys. Didn’t your parents ever teach you to play fair? Have some decorum!”

Katsuki’s stomach churned as he stared at the masked vigilante. Of all the people who could’ve shown up, it just had to be him.

“Stay out of this, bugboy.” one of the thugs barked, pulling a pipe from the floor and swinging it toward Spiderman.

But Spiderman was faster.

Effortlessly, he ducked under the swing, pivoting on his heel and delivering a swift kick to the man’s stomach that sent him stumbling backwards, keeling over.

“Bugboy, really?” Spiderman repeated sarcastically, shooting a web at the guy’s feet to pin him in place. “You guys need to work on your insults. I mean, come on. At least try to be original, and that's hardly an insult!"

Katsuki clenched his jaw, his fists still tight at his sides. He didn’t know what pissed him off more — the fact that Spiderman was here, or the fact that he was handling the situation so easily while making it look like a joke.

As the thugs scrambled to regroup, Spiderman turned his head slightly, glancing over his shoulder at Katsuki. Though the mask covered his face, Katsuki could swear he could feel the smug grin beneath it. “You okay back there?” Spiderman asked casually as if they weren’t in the middle of a fight.

Katsuki’s blood boiled. “I didn’t ask for your help,” he snapped, his voice sharp and angry. “I had it under control.”

“Sure you did,” Spiderman said lightly, dodging another swing and webbing one of the men to the alley wall. “You looked super in control, standing there surrounded by four guys with weapons. Real impressive, blondie.”

Katsuki growled, his pride stinging as he watched Spiderman handle the remaining two thugs with frustrating ease. In a matter of minutes, all four of them were either webbed up or unconscious, leaving the alley eerily quiet except for the faint sound of Spiderman brushing his gloved hands together.

“All done,” Spiderman announced cheerfully, turning to face Katsuki fully. “No need to thank me. It’s all in a day’s work, sweetheart.”

Katsuki’s glare could’ve melted steel. “I didn’t need your help, you damn clown.”

Spiderman tilted his head, his body language practically oozing amusement. “You’re welcome,” he said pointedly, and though Katsuki couldn’t see his face, he could tell that the vigilante really was smirking beneath the mask.

God, he was even more insufferable in person. The television screen didn't do him justice. Though, he's shorter than Bakugo, which was a little surprise treat for him that made him feel somewhat superior in some way.

Though, as Spiderman continued to stand there, his hands on his hips, with the cocky smile practically radiating from behind his mask, Katsuki’s blood boiled. His pride was practically exploding in every direction — he didn’t need this idiot's help, didn’t need to be saved, and sure as hell didn’t need to be humiliated in front of him like this. Not when Spiderman was practically his one-sided sworn enemy.

“You’re really gonna rub it in my face, huh?” Katsuki snapped, his hands balled into fists at his sides. “What kind of weak-ass stunt was that? Do you think you’re some kinda big shot for showing up and playing the hero? I had ‘em.”

Spiderman, of course, didn’t back down. Especially now that he had a mask to hide behind...

He leaned slightly forward, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Oh yeah, you totally had ‘em. You were totally about to show these guys who’s boss. Look, I get it, Hothead. You’ve got pride. It’s cute. But some things—” He raised a hand dramatically in his face, “—are a little too much to handle alone. Not everyone is a one-man army like you, you know? Everyone needs a little hand sometimes.”

Katsuki’s face flushed red with frustration.

“Shut up, bugboy. You just couldn’t help yourself, could you? You couldn’t even give me a second to finish this on my own.”

Before Spiderman could respond with some other smug retort or whine about how Katsuki had called him 'bugboy' too, a sudden clink of metal caught both of their attentions, and before Katsuki could even react, a bullet whizzed through the air, grazing his cheek.

Bang!

The force of the impact was sharp and searing, and Katsuki’s eyes widened as he felt a sting on his cheek, hot blood instantly dripping down his skin. He stumbled back slightly, hand flying to his face to staunch the bleeding, eyes darting in confusion.

"What the hell?" Katsuki muttered under his breath, stunned by the sudden sharp pain and the now visible blood dripping down his face. The world seemed to slow, and for a moment, his mind went blank. He couldn't believe what had just happened. The bullet hadn’t cut deep, but the pain was real, the blood real. He could feel the warm trickle of it down his jaw.

And then the man who had just fired the shot stepped out of the shadows.

The new figure was dressed in all black, a dark hood concealing most of his face, but Katsuki could see the unmistakable gleam of a gun in his hand as he held it up, smirking darkly.

“You know, I was gonna leave you all alone,” the man drawled, his voice rough and low. “But I’m bored, and thought I’d join the fun.”

Before the man could take another step forward, there was a blur of movement, and Spiderman — that damn vigilante — was already on him. Katsuki barely had time to react as Spiderman launched himself toward the guy, webbing the gun out of his hand with a precise flick of his wrist before landing in front of him with his fist drawn. He didn’t even give the man a chance to recover.

“You're bold,” Spiderman said, his voice dark and low now, no longer light-hearted or teasing. His posture was different too, solid, determined. The playful tone was gone, replaced by something much more dangerous. Darker.

“You're an idiot for butting in, and I'll make you fuckin' pay for the stunt you've just pulled, asshole.”

Before the thug could even reach for another weapon or defend himself, Spiderman swung a punch that landed square in the man’s gut with enough force to knock the air out of him. The thug grunted, staggering back, but Spiderman wasn’t done. Katsuki almost felt like chiming in and telling him to give the guy a fuckin' chance, because this was seriously just sad.

“You really think you stand a chance?” Spiderman taunted, now fully in control of the fight. “Let me show you what happens when you mess with people who don’t take kindly to lowlives like you, always lookin' for a fucking fight.”

Izuku was running on pure adrenaline.

He didn't know why he felt the way he did. But when he saw the blood dripping down Katsuki's face, he lost all resolve.

Katsuki watched, his hand still pressed to his cheek as blood dripped onto his fingers, his heart pounding in his chest. He felt a strange mix of confusion and irritation — he didn’t need saving, not like this. The stupid hero wasn’t just jumping in at the right moment, he was taking control. And that pissed him off more than anything.

Spiderman continued to unload insults, slamming his knee into the man’s stomach, and knocking him to the ground. He practically growled as he grabbed the guy by his collar, dragging him up and holding him in place with a venomous stare.

“You shot him, and I’m gonna show you exactly what happens when you hurt innocent people." Spiderman spat, throwing a final punch that knocked the thug unconscious in an instant.

Katsuki’s breath hitched as the thug crumpled to the ground. The fight was over before it even started. Spiderman stood above him, glaring down at the fallen figure with unmasked fury, shooting a few webs to keep him in place. The other thugs still lightly groaning around them, also webbed to the floor. Spiderman was like a fucking monster... an effective monster.

Without another word, Spiderman turned to face Katsuki. His movements were quick and purposeful, even more protective than before. “You alright?” he asked, his voice shifting into something softer, less mocking.

Katsuki, still stunned, wiped the blood off his cheek with the back of his hand, his crimson eyes narrowing into a glare. His jaw was clenched, teeth grinding together as he fought to keep his anger in check.

“I don’t need your damn help, you hear me?” he snarled, voice shaky but full of venom. “You didn’t need to make it worse.”

But Spiderman — damn him — was already close, inspecting the small wound on his cheek with a tension in his demeanour that Katsuki couldn’t stand.

“You’re bleeding, blondie,” Spiderman said, a slight frown hidden behind his mask. “That’s not nothing. You’re lucky it wasn’t worse.”

Katsuki’s temper flared, and before he could snap back, Spiderman leaned in, checking his wound one last time. The hero’s voice was firm, commanding even. “Let me patch that up, alright? I’ll make sure it’s all cleaned up.”

Katsuki pulled away with a harsh shove, feeling his pride swell again, but his anger was still bubbling beneath the surface.

“Stop touching me, you damn show-off!” Katsuki growled, his eyes flashing as he turned his back to the hero. “I didn’t ask for this. I can handle myself. I don’t need you around trying to save me or for you to fuckin' patch me up. Fuck you.”

Spiderman didn’t back off, though. His voice was annoyingly calm. “Fine. You didn’t ask for help. But I still helped. And next time? Maybe don't get shot, yeah?” He was clearly being sarcastic telling him not to get shot. Considering it was a completely unavoidable circumstance that came entirely out of left field.

Katsuki muttered under his breath, wiping away the last of the blood. “I don’t need some damn hero,” he grumbled, barely able to contain the burn of humiliation in his chest.

Spiderman only chuckled lightly behind his mask. “Sure you don’t. But you were also walking alone down one of the most dangerous alleys in the city." The hero tilted his head, sounding genuinely shocked at the blonde's incompetence.

He was oddly enjoying seeing Katsuki almost lost for words.

He knew the truth about how he felt about Spiderman, and he knew that in this moment he was breaking down walls that he wasn't even supposed to know were up in the first place.

"Look, let me at least give you a lift home." Spiderman took a step closer, reaching out his hand to hover near Katsuki's face. He wanted to wipe the blood away with his thumb — but he knew that would not only be cause for an infection — but it'd also likely lead him to get a kick to his balls. Which would suck.

"Fuck no." Katsuki flinched as the masked man's hand hovered so close to him, and he moved to take a sudden step back.

"What, you scared of heights or somethin', blondie?" Izuku smirked beneath the mask, knowing the answer to that question. He could never forget the way Katsuki cried when they visited the Tokyo Skytree with their elementary school. The way he refused to look down at the city beneath them, with trembling legs and tearful eyes.

"No, I'm not," Katsuki responded dryly with furrowed brows, his vermillion depths narrowed with clear frustration. He was lying through his clenched jaw, and Izuku knew that. But Spiderman couldn't know that.

"Well then, I see no issue!" Spiderman quipped, before suddenly taking a step forward to wrap his arm around Katsuki's waist. And though the taller boy tried to struggle, within moments the masked hero had already swung a web, hurling them off into the nights sky as he pressed the blonde's body against his own.

He held him like Katsuki weighed nothing at all.

Katsuki stopped himself from yelping out in complete and utter dread, as he felt his stomach feel akin to that of what it felt like to be on a rollercoaster. How the hell did the masked hero do this every day like it was so casual?

He squeezed his eyes shut, knowing that if he opened them he'd likely scream.

And Izuku noticed the way his fingers clung to the spandex of his suit so desperately. He huffed in light amusement at it.

"Where'd ya' live?" Spiderman asked, acting as though he didn't fucking live with him, too. Katsuki wanted to scream. Wanted to hurl insult after insult at the 'hero', but he couldn't. His voice died in his throat as he squeezed his eyes shut even tighter.

"MITech dorms." He forced out, just wanting to get there as fast as possible so he didn't have to deal with this bullshit any longer.

"Ah, MITech. So you're a smart one then, huh?" Spiderman teased, glancing down to see the wind whipping in the other man's hair. Seeing the way his eyes squeezed shut so desperately made him feel a sense of morbid achievement.

"Fuck you. Just because the likes of an idiot like yourself can't get into MITech doesn't make me smart. You're just stupid." Katsuki suddenly shouted back, raising his voice louder than necessary given the wind in his ears was making it hard to decipher his own volume.

Izuku found that absolutely hilarious.

Given he was probably one of the only people who had truly rivalled Katsuki in intelligence throughout his entire life, even in his absence.

"Stupid, am I?" Spiderman hummed, amused. And suddenly, in a moment of completely spurred desire to mess with Katsuki, and he clung himself to the side of a building. And dropped the boy in his arms.

Katsuki's clinging fists attempted to grasp at Spiderman's torso, but they failed. He was falling.

Katsuki realised what was happening, and his eyes sprung open, watching as the masked hero seemed to grow... smaller and smaller.

And so he screamed.

An ear-piercing scream.

And Izuku laughed wildly, before moving to swing a web directly onto Katsuki's torso, catching the blonde mid-air like it was some kind of circus act. He then moved to pull him back up, swinging him right back into his arms — chuckling like a fucking maniac. That was genuinely the most terrifying thing to ever happen to Katsuki, performed by none other than the most annoying person on the planet.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Katsuki roared, eyes wide open as he moved to attempt to punch the masked hero in the face, but he failed, his arm whipping limply in the strong force of the wind as they swung. Izuku just hummed back, amused as he dodged the weak punch.

"Were you trying to fucking kill me?" Katsuki roared.

"Nah, just, maybe don't go insulting the person who's the only thing stopping you from plummeting down from hundreds of feet up into the air." He smirked beneath the mask, and Katsuki could see the way the mask curled at the lips.

"Fuck you," Katsuki growled, to which Spiderman retorted, "I mean, I don't usually go for hot-heads like yourself. But if you're really asking for it..." He huffed in entertainment whilst watching the boy in his arms flush bright red.

"Hell no, I did NOT mean it like that!" He fisted into Izuku's chest, defensively.

"Sure you didn't. That's what they all say." Spiderman teased, watching the internal struggle unfold in the boy's eyes as he swung them closer and closer towards the campus they both called home.

"You're such a fucking prick," Katsuki muttered, to which Izuku squeezed his waist.

"Yea well, I'm a prick who distracted you from your fear. Aren't I?" He drawled, "You can't deny the adrenaline coursing through your veins right now, blondie!"

And with that, he swung them down one last time. And as soon as Izuku dropped Katsuki down onto the pavement, Katsuki's legs felt like jelly beneath him. He stumbled back for a few moments, before watching the smug hero take a dramatic bow in front of him.

"Aaaand, scene." Spiderman laughed gently, moving to tilt his head up to search Katsuki's expression. He looked completely and utterly mortified, his eyebrows twitching, and his lips parted dramatically, face completely flushed with some now dry blood remaining at the side of it. His blush was practically just as red.

"There's something seriously fucking wrong with you." Katsuki stuttered out. He didn't have the energy to defend himself from the accusation that he was afraid. He figured the hero had some kind of inhuman sense, anyway — after spending so many nights studying him. He figured that he could sense his every move. That he could hear his thumping betrayal of a heartbeat loud and clear. That he could sense every bead of sweat dripping from his forehead...

And he'd be damn right.

"Yea well, I was your chariot for the night. Your knight in shining armour, and you're my prince." Izuku teased, reaching out to take Katsuki's hand, bringing it straight up to his mouth. Or, what would be his mouth if it wasn't covered with green spandex. Katsuki didn't even have time to pull his hand away before the vigilante so casually pressed masked lips to it.

And after a moment of stunned prolonged silence, he snatched his hand away, his reflexes failing him from doing it faster.

"Get that wound patched up for me, blondie." Spiderman nodded towards him, and within moments, the hero was saluting him playfully, before he shot a web at a nearby lamppost at what looked like close to lightning speed, swinging away into the night with a following, "woooohoooo!" echoing after him.

What.

The.

Fuck.

Just happened?

. . .

Chapter notes:

[Oh my GOD, I had so much fun writing this. And I hope you guys can tell! You're in for a seriously wild ride with me and I intend to fulfill all of my deepest fantasies with this pairing! I do love angst, and I intend to scratch that itch. But I promise I'll wrap you all up in a big warm fluffy hug eventually. This is the first proper fanfic I've ever written if you'd believe it! I've had ideas for a long time, and I noticed a lack of Spiderdeku works with the bkdk pairing, so I intended to change that.

Honestly, I really loved how much depth I've given the both of them. I think they equally both have really negative and positive traits that will inevitably develop to balance each other out. Or not... I guess we'll see!]

Chapter Text

Katsuki couldn't believe it.

Adrenaline was still coursing through his veins, and frustratedly, Spiderman was right. He had distracted him. But nothing irked him more than the fact that Spiderman had managed to truly get under his skin. Like a worm to an apple, digging its way through every part of his psyche like the smug bastard he so clearly is.

He knew Spiderman had a sense of humour, often in clips online he could be seen cracking jokes even in the most tense of situations. Leaving thieves strung up with their pants down — red and white polka-dotted briefs on display for the whole world to see. And Katsuki couldn't even fathom how the guy was so easygoing.

So casual, treating everything like some sick joke.

Leaving Katsuki stood there dumbfounded with sharp pangs still coursing through his cheek where the bullet had grazed. The blonde hissed, moving his calloused fingers up to assess the injury. And despite how his legs felt incapable of remaining tethered to the ground — he pushed himself to trek towards his dorm building.

He was annoyed that the 'hero' had left him just smack bang in the middle of campus rather than asking which dorm was his. Though, little did he know, that was for a reason...

Spiderman swung himself a couple of blocks away — before turning back, trying to remain relatively in the shadows as he hurled himself back towards where he'd come from. He was used to this now, and thankfully, of an evening the campus was typically devoid.

Before long he'd arrived at the back of his dorm building. He scaled the side of it — up four floors, his fingers sticking to the brick wall like lollipops to a carpet. He cautiously, and ever-so stealthily moved to climb into his bedroom window, popping it open and sliding himself in freely.

He dropped to the floor, suited feet making a light thump on the hardwood floor. He then gradually closed the window behind him with a soft click before sliding his mask off and moving to shuffle the rest of his suit off. One thing he hated about the disguise is that his hair always ended up either ridiculously flat or stupidly stuck upwards in all directions. Thick green curls never seemed to tame.

He used his palm to try and flatten down his curls before moving to kick his suit under his bed. Perhaps he'd been distracted, but he hadn't even heard the front door shut before he heard a clangourous tandem of bangs on his bedroom door. With a heavy fist that he easily recognised.

Katsuki.

Izuku's eyes widened, and he glanced down to see himself wearing nothing but a pair of black boxers and white socks. Shit.

"Nerd, get out here." The blonde grumbled from the hallway, voice low and gruff per what he was so used to hearing.

"J—" Izuku stuttered, "Just a minute!" He squealed, voice increasingly getting more heightened with each word. Katsuki's eyes narrowed, and his hand moved down to the doorknob.

"It's important, the fuck are y' doing in here?" He moved to turn the handle, and Izuku watched as it slowly eased down. He shuffled to slide a pair of shorts on that were sprawled out on the floor, hopping into them as it opened. But he was too late.

The door blasted open, and Katsuki stood there. His eyes widened at the sight before him. He was already in a state of shock — but evidently, Spiderman wasn't his only shock of the day.

Izuku had just finished sliding the shorts up.

But he hadn't had the time to grab a shirt.

Katsuki's eye twitched at the sight before him, with the scrawny frail kid he used to torment standing barely a couple meters away from him — with rippling fucking abs. Katsuki had noticed how his arms seemed particularly thick, on the first day they'd encountered each other after all that time. But Izuku's baggy shirts didn't exactly do him any favours, and the picture before him was certainly far from what he expected.

'Night-time' runs and 'mindful eating' my ass.

The guy had the body of some kind of full-time bodybuilder, shit, he was even bigger than Kirishima. And Kirishima worked out like a maddened steroid junkie.

"I was naked." Izuku dead-panned, before moving to his wardrobe — pulling the sliding door open to scan through hoodies. And Katsuki was still at the door, mouth parted and in a state of stun. Izuku then casually glanced back as he slid a grey hoodie on, and his eyes zeroed in on the side of Katsuki's face.

Trickles of red he'd already seen before.

But shit, if he wasn't a good actor.

"Holy fuck—" He suddenly slid the door of the wardrobe shut before moving to stamper towards the door. "What the hell happened?" He gawked, getting awfully close to the other man.

Katsuki wanted to scream at him and ask how the hell he'd managed to bulk up like that. But as Izuku got so close to him, he could barely even manage the sentence he had intended to muster up in the first place.

"Where's the med kit?" Katsuki questioned, his eyes narrowed, and his stare stabbing as he withdrew his face from Izuku's proximity. Izuku let out an exaggerated huff, before taking a few steps back and walking towards his desk — pulling open one of the cabinet drawers and taking out the metal box containing the medical supplies he... frequently needed to re-stock.

All he could think about was how he was fulfilling his original offer of patching Katsuki up, and it amused him to picture the look of what would be complete disdain and embarrassment on the blonde's face if he knew.

If only he knew.

Izuku moved to his bed, sitting down on the edge of it before patting the duvet next to him — offering for Katsuki to sit. Katsuki wanted to storm over and snatch the tin out of his hand and hurl endless insults at him, thrashing on about how he 'doesn't need help'. Which was to be expected.

He really did want to take his anger out on the maddening freckled boy, but he couldn't.

They hadn't spoken properly since their argument about Spiderman, and Katsuki had laid awake far too many nights rueing how he'd lashed out the way that he had. As much as he disagreed with Izuku, he had never intended to argue like that. And he certainly didn't intend to garner that broken look on his face when the name 'Deku', had slipped out.

Guilt had already been eating him up from the inside out, but it was only seeming to worsen. He wished every day that Izuku would just ask why, that he'd bring up their past and have a genuine conversation with him about it. As much as he hated admitting his wrongdoings, it felt like nothing could ever even come close to being all right if he didn't.

And he had questions too.

Like why the fuck he'd just upped and disappeared one day.

And, why the hell he was built like some kind of Greek statue now?

Katsuki clenched his fists, hard enough to dig his nails straight into the flesh of his palms — scoffing at Izuku as he pushed himself to walk over to him. The freckled boy just watched. And the bed dipped down next to him as the evidently aggravated man sat down next to him. They hadn't sat this close to each other in a good long while, and Izuku couldn't help but notice the hitch in his own breath as he felt their thighs brush briefly.

"How'd this happen?" Izuku asked, hesitant. He knew the answer — but it wouldn't make sense if he just stayed quiet. It wasn't in his curious nature, and he knew that Katsuki would be expecting this reaction from him. Izuku reached down to open the tin, fumbling through to take out a packet of alcohol wipes — ripping open the packet and moving closer to Katsuki, inspecting the damage.

"I can do it myself." Katsuki suddenly grabbed Izuku's wrist mid-air as it lay barely inches away from the side of his cheek. He felt the way the other man trembled in his grasp, and his stomach pitted. Izuku's eyes widened. Though Katsuki's grip wasn't firm — it still made him feel weak.

"Why's the med kit even in your room, anyway?" The blonde asked.

"You didn't answer my question." Izuku abruptly retorted, and he felt Katsuki's hold on his wrist relax, suddenly letting go. Izuku took that as a sign to move in closer, pressing the wipe right up to the wound, wiping at the dried blood. Katsuki hissed lightly — fisting into the sheets with a clenched jaw. It didn't hurt *too* bad, but it was still an annoyance.

"Fuckin', answer mine." Katsuki gritted out.

"Guess you could say I'm still as clumsy as ever." Izuku was amused, lightly smiling to himself as he watched Katsuki's eyebrows furrow with clear frustration. He was lying out of his ass — in fact, he couldn't be any less clumsy given he was now genetically modified to have inhuman senses. But as a child, he was prone to knocking things over and bumping into walls as though it was some kind of twisted sport. Katsuki often teased him for it — always the first to laugh if he fell down.

"Not surprising." Katsuki's tensed shoulders relaxed, allowing Izuku to continue wiping down the wound, watching as he finished with one of the wipes and moved to rip open a new packet. He couldn't help but notice how focused Izuku looked, and he found his face feeling particularly warm at the sight.

For god's sake Katsuki, get a hold of yourself.

And then he saw it.

The way Izuku's nose bridge crinkled as he seemed to get a whiff of the alcohol from the wipe mixed with dried blood. The way he huffed gently in amusement at Katsuki's quip about his clumsiness not being a surprise. His stomach pitted, and suddenly he was five years old again — begging whatever god there was to make him normal again.

He was then suddenly snapped out of his reverie when Izuku cut back in with, "You gonna tell me what happened now?"

"You won't believe me." Katsuki retorted, unable to meet Izuku's stare any longer.

What the hell was with this tension?

"Try me." Izuku huffed in amusement, still remembering the way Katsuki trembled beneath his fingers. The way he clung to him for dear life as they soared through the skyline — how weightless he'd felt beneath him.

Katsuki’s jaw tightened, his crimson eyes flickering toward Izuku for a split second before darting away again. He was struggling to find the words, and the way Izuku’s face hovered just inches from his own wasn’t helping. The nerd had this infuriating habit of looking so damn earnest, like he actually cared. Katsuki hated it because it made him feel things — things he didn’t know how to process yet, let alone express.

“Fine,” Katsuki snapped, his voice rougher than he intended. “I ran into some… trouble. Dumbass dressed up in his green clown suit swung in like he owns the goddamn city.”

Izuku froze for a moment, his hand still hovering by Katsuki’s cheek. “Clown suit?” he echoed, his tone light but probing.

“Yeah. You know, Spiderman...” Katsuki spat the name like it tasted bad. “He wouldn’t shut up the whole time. Acted like it was all some big joke. I didn’t need his help, but he just —” Katsuki cut himself off, his fists clenching in his lap.

Izuku blinked, his freckled face utterly unreadable for a moment. Then, to Katsuki’s utter disbelief, a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“What the hell’s so funny?” Katsuki barked, leaning back slightly as if to create some distance between them.

“Nothing, nothing,” Izuku said quickly, though his grin didn’t falter. He busied himself with the med kit, pulling out some gauze and tape. “It’s just… It's kind of funny how he saved you.”

“I wasn’t saved!” Katsuki snapped, his voice rising. “I was distracted. There’s a difference, dumbass!”

“Uh-huh,” Izuku replied, his tone so casual it only infuriated Katsuki further. He pressed the gauze against the blonde’s cheek a little more firmly than necessary, eliciting a hiss. “So what happened after that? Did you punch him, and tell him how much you hate his methods?” Izuku teased.

“I would’ve if he hadn’t swung off like some coward after he hauled me home like he's some kind of fucking taxi service,” Katsuki grumbled, his lips pulling into a scowl. “Damn spider freak.”

Izuku hummed in response, his expression distant. “He’s not a freak, you know,” he said softly, almost absentmindedly. “He’s… trying to help.”

Katsuki’s head whipped toward him, his eyes narrowing. “I'm not having this argument with you again.”

Izuku froze for a split second, then let out a laugh — a genuine, carefree laugh that made Katsuki’s chest tighten in a way he couldn’t explain.

“You're just upset because he’s not so bad, right?” Izuku probed, his voice teasing. “You’re just mad because he got under your skin.”

“That’s not — ugh, whatever.” Katsuki crossed his arms, glaring at a random spot on the wall. The tension between them was suffocating, but it wasn’t the kind Katsuki was used to. It wasn’t the kind born of anger, old rivalry, or the weight of the storm cloud their past together was.

It was something else entirely, something he didn’t have the tools to deal with.

Izuku leaned back slightly, his hands dropping to his lap as he studied Katsuki’s face. “There. All patched up,” he said softly, his tone almost bordering gentle.

Katsuki didn’t say anything at first. He could still feel the faint, ghostly sensation of Izuku’s hands against his skin, and it was driving him insane. Finally, he stood up abruptly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“Don’t think this means I owe you shit,” he muttered, his voice gruff.

Izuku tilted his head, a playful glint in his eyes. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Katsuki turned toward the door, but before he could leave, he paused. For a moment, he hesitated, his hand hovering near the doorknob. Then, without looking back, he said, “You’re stronger than you used to be, you know. And I want to know why.”

Izuku’s eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by the rare, almost vulnerable comment. “Kacchan…”

“Whatever, doesn't matter.” And with that, Katsuki stormed out, leaving Izuku sitting there, his heart pounding against his ribs and his mind racing.

Izuku let out a shaky breath, running a hand through his messy curls. He glanced toward the window, where the faint glow of the moon in the clear night sky mocked him.

. . .

Izuku was a mess.

He'd been a mess since realising it was a certain blondie in the alleyway with those thugs. His legs moved on their own, and though he tried to keep up his nonchalant Spider persona — he couldn't have felt any more chalant about it.

Just, inwardly.

And the worst part is how much of a close call that bullet was. The entire situation was ridiculous. So ridiculous, that it almost felt staged. Who the hell just shoots at somebody so casually?

And fuck, he felt like a psychopath for getting a sick sense of pleasure from feeling the way the criminal's cheekbone cracked beneath his fist. He wanted to keep swinging his arm back and plummeting his knuckles into that same spot — over and over until his knuckles were black and blue.

He saw red.

And he'd never felt that way before.

He wasn't that kind of hero, his goals were merely to bring criminals to justice and keep civilians safe. Not to make the criminals suffer to a degree like he was imagining doing to that thug. Thankfully, he'd pulled back before he'd done some serious lasting damage. But part of him regretted it — a part he couldn't even begin to fathom.

Never mind when it came to Katsuki fucking Bakugo.

He had far from forgiven him for the way he used to treat him, but admittedly he'd recognised months ago how he wasn't like that anymore. Of course, he's the same person, but something told Izuku that Bakugo hadn't been like that for a long time. He wondered when it happened. When he decided that the world wasn't his enemy, and when he'd decided to pursue criminology, of all subjects. Growing into an interest in helping people, which was not something that Izuku had ever imagined for the blonde.

Izuku was always one for grudges, and his grudges towards Katsuki weighed him down almost daily. For years — it'd felt like the chain was still around his throat. And no matter how far away he was from Katsuki, he'd always be holding the other end of it.

He could still recall how in his fucking suicide note of all things, he’d written an apology to Katsuki, as though he’d even done anything wrong in the first place. Sure, maybe he’d chased after him — even with Katsuki’s extensive efforts to push him away at all costs. But he knew when to back down, he always knew. And in the end, it was Katsuki who wouldn’t leave him alone, not the other way around.

Izuku let out a shaky breath, moving to lean the back of his head against the cool surface of the wall next to his bed. His thoughts were a tangled mess, a swirling storm of memories, emotions, and an overwhelming sense of confusion. Katsuki Bakugo was a puzzle he thought he had solved long ago — angry, brash, explosive in every sense of the word. But now? Now Katsuki felt like a completely different equation, one Izuku couldn’t quite balance.

When had he changed?

Izuku remembered him as a walking firecracker, someone who burned so brightly he could scorch anyone who got too close. But the Katsuki he’d seen lately — the one who sat next to him on the bed tonight, biting back his usual insults, the one who didn’t flinch when Izuku touched his face with a careful hand — was different.

There was something quieter about him now. The fire was still there, simmering just under the surface, but it wasn’t wild and uncontrollable anymore. It was focused, and purposeful. And Izuku hated how that made it harder to hold onto his resentment.

He wanted to stay angry.

He wanted to remember the Katsuki who called him "Deku" with nothing but venom in his voice, the Katsuki who shoved him down and told him he’d never amount to anything. That Katsuki was easy to hate. That Katsuki was the one he blamed when he thought about the years of pain and isolation that followed him like a shadow.

But this Katsuki? This one who was studying criminology to help people, who was openly wearing his guilt on his sleeve even if he didn’t know how to say the words out loud? This Katsuki was harder to pin down, harder to hate, and Izuku didn’t know what to do with that.

And then there was the issue of Spiderman.

Izuku clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white as he thought about Katsuki’s disdain for the masked hero. It wasn’t just the usual scepticism people had towards him. Katsuki hated Spiderman and Izuku didn’t even fully understand why.

Sure, Katsuki had always had a thing for doing things the “right way,” by the book. But his hatred of Spiderman felt personal. The way he spat the name like it physically hurt him to say it, the way his jaw tensed whenever the hero came up in conversation — it wasn’t normal.

Izuku could practically feel Katsuki’s anger radiating off him when he talked about Spiderman, and it made Izuku’s chest ache in ways he didn’t want to examine too closely.

Because he is Spiderman.

The irony wasn’t lost on him. The one thing Katsuki seemed to hate the most was the same thing Izuku had become. And every time Katsuki ranted about how Spiderman was a showboating idiot who didn’t know when to stay out of things, it was like he was aiming a dagger straight at Izuku’s heart.

But it wasn’t just the disdain that hurt. It was the fact that Katsuki didn’t see the effort, the sacrifice, the constant battle Izuku fought to protect people like him. Katsuki didn’t know how much Izuku had given up, how many sleepless nights he’d spent swinging through the city, how much blood he’d spilt — his own and others — just to keep people safe.

And the worst part? Izuku could tell, deep down, that Katsuki wasn’t entirely wrong.

He did show off sometimes.

He cracked jokes to mask the fear, to hide how terrified he was of failing, of letting someone die because he wasn’t good enough or fast enough or strong enough. Katsuki saw through that. He always had a way of cutting straight through Izuku’s defences, even when he didn’t know he was doing it.

But it still stung.

Izuku bit his lip, his eyes stinging with the beginnings of tears he refused to let fall.

The worst part was that Katsuki wasn’t entirely wrong about his recklessness as a hero, either. If he hadn’t been so caught up in his own emotions, seeing Katsuki there, in danger — maybe he would have handled the situation better. Maybe Katsuki wouldn’t have gotten hurt.

But no. That wasn’t fair. The thugs were the ones who fired the gun, not him.

He had done his best, hadn’t he?

Hadn't he?

Izuku groaned, running a hand through his curls in frustration. His mind was spinning in circles, the guilt and resentment and confusion all tangling together until he didn’t know which way was up anymore.
He thought about Katsuki’s voice, the way it'd softened just for a moment when he said, “You’re stronger than you used to be.”

For a second, Izuku had almost forgotten how much he resented him.

Almost.

But then he remembered how much Katsuki hated Spiderman. And suddenly, that chain around his throat felt tighter than ever. Because no matter how much Katsuki had changed, no matter how much Izuku wanted to believe they could be something resembling friends again…

Katsuki would hate him if he knew the truth.

And Izuku didn’t think he could survive that.

. . .

After that day, Katsuki only fell deeper into what 'typical' people could only refer to as obsession.

The wound on his cheek healed relatively fast, considering it was from a goddamn bullet. But Katsuki was glad it had since the gauze and bandaid he was forced to wear in the weeks after was an eye-sore and meant that even people he hadn't spoken to in his classes were asking about its origins. Every time, he'd make up a new story because there was no way in hell he was admitting he'd gotten it in an incident involving the notorious web-slinging hero.

Because that would be giving Spiderman credit for his actions, and god, Katsuki couldn't be any less interested in stroking that guy's ego. Even if he wouldn't be around to witness it.

And besides, what's more fun than having free goddamn will? People just forget sometimes that they don't have to tell the truth to relative strangers.

But beyond what could only be referred to as his social antics, he'd spent a ridiculous amount of time in the weeks after, heightening his surveillance on the worm that was living rent-free in his apple.

It'd been a particularly long day, and Katsuki was sitting at his desk, glaring at his laptop as though it were the reason for his turmoil. The incident kept replaying in his mind like a constant loop.

It's like no matter how much he tried to distract himself, he couldn't get it out of his head. The way the smug bastard had swept in, treating him like some damsel in distress. Mocking him. Taunting him. He clenched his jaw, recalling the vigilante’s infuriatingly casual tone as they dangled from his webs, suspended hundreds of feet above the cityscape. He'd even had to bin the t-shirt he was wearing, considering Spiderman had caught him mid fucking air, holding him up by it. It was a damn good shirt too.

He'd taken a sample of the immovable substance but didn't have the resources to examine it closely, since he didn't have access to the right labs for it. He'd asked the nerd a few times — but every time he had some kind of excuse. He couldn't really complain about that though, since it had nothing to do with Izuku.

Or so he thought.

Another thing that had particularly stuck with him was the way Spiderman had treated the whole ordeal like some kind of joke. But even as he yelled at the hero to shut up and put him down, he couldn’t ignore the skill with which Spiderman navigated the chaos.

The precision.

The efficiency.

It was maddening how good he was at what he did — and how little he seemed to care about the consequences of his reckless actions.

Now, Katsuki’s focus had shifted. He wasn’t just annoyed; he was obsessed. The question of Spiderman’s identity was a riddle Katsuki couldn’t resist wanting to solve. It wasn’t just curiosity — it was necessity.

Katsuki needed to know who was behind the mask, not just to satiate his pride but to prove a point. That even chaos could be unravelled, quantified, and understood.

Spiderman was a puzzle he intended to solve.

He didn't have a particular plan, nor a vision on what he'd even do if he were to find out Spiderman's identity. But one thing remained true in his mind. His hands yearned to rip the mask off of that smug bastard's cowardly face.

He leaned back in his chair, the dim glow of his laptop illuminating the sharp angles of his face. On the screen was an intricate web of data, video footage, news articles, eyewitness accounts, and police reports —all cross-referenced and tagged with the precision of a seasoned investigator. Katsuki had spent the past three nights dissecting every public appearance Spiderman had made, mapping out patterns in his movements and response times.

He'd always kept tabs on the hero, often taking notes when watching the standard news channels. Usually when something particularly big had happened for the hero. However, that was easily excused as being somewhat casual given his keen interest in criminology. At least, in his mind, he perceived his interest as casual.

Besides, in the eyes of the law, a lot of Spiderman's actions were against it. So, of course, he was bothered by it. But now, he was even more bothered by it!

Because his distaste has been justified.

He had a reason to want to dig deeper. Things were personal now.

"Who the hell are you, bugboy?" he muttered under his breath, scrolling through a timeline of Spiderman’s latest activity. He had started to notice a few consistencies — areas Spiderman seemed to frequent, times of day when he was most active. Katsuki had even pulled up subway schedules and traffic reports to calculate the most likely routes Spiderman used to get around the city. Of course, he wasn't using the public transport, considering he swung around the city like some fucked up Tarzan that was clearly too ugly to show his face. But he still frequented certain routes on his patrols.

The data was incomplete, frustratingly so, but it was enough to give Katsuki a place to start.

His first plan was simple.

Surveillance.

If Spiderman had a pattern, Katsuki would find it. He’d stake out the locations where the hero was most likely to appear — rooftops, alleyways, anywhere with a clear line of sight — and wait. He’d bring a camera, his notebook, and, if necessary, a few choice tools from the criminology lab to gather whatever evidence he could.

But that wasn’t enough. Katsuki wanted more than just sightings; he wanted to force Spiderman out into the open. He considered planting false "tips" online, anonymously leaking information about fake crimes or emergencies to see if the hero would take the bait. It was a risky move, but Katsuki thrived on risks. He wasn’t above manipulating the situation to get the answers he wanted.

The problem, of course, was that Spiderman wasn’t predictable in the traditional sense. He didn’t follow the rules — not of logic, not of physics, not of anything Katsuki could understand. And that fact alone was enough to drive Katsuki up the wall.

Then there was the other problem.

Katsuki’s own feelings.

He hated Spiderman — or at least, he thought he did. But the memory of that night kept creeping into his mind. And he found himself wondering what would have happened if Spiderman wasn't there to save him. And that smirk — the one Katsuki could see the outline of underneath the thick green latex, had lingered in his thoughts longer than it should have.

"Damn it," Katsuki growled, slamming his laptop shut. He wasn’t going to let some web-slinging idiot get even further under his skin.

. . .

During Katsuki's time of plotting, he'd become increasingly socially withdrawn. Not turning up to his usual workout sessions with Kirishima — and avoiding going to any of the small gigs he was invited to by the same dedicated redhead and his irritating punk friends.

It was in one of these socially withdrawn stretches that Kirishima finally decided he'd had enough of Katsuki’s cryptic, dismissive behaviour. It wasn’t like the blonde to bail on their usual workouts, let alone ignore calls and texts. Kirishima had a hunch something was up — maybe school stress, maybe Katsuki’s pride getting bruised from some unforeseen incident. Which would explain why he'd had some weird bandage on his face for two weeks. And why every person who mentioned it gave a different story as to how he'd gotten it.

Either way, the redhead figured he’d take matters into his own hands.

After all, Katsuki could be a pain in the ass, but he was still his bro.

Kirshima arrived unannounced, knocking sharply on the front door of Izuku and Katsuki's dorm, fully intending to drag Bakugo to the gym for a 'welcome back' workout.

But instead of the usual “Get lost, shitty hair,” or begrudging growl of an invitation to come inside, the door opened slightly — and then stopped. Katsuki leaned against the frame, one hand braced against it, clearly annoyed to see him.

“What the hell do you want?” Katsuki grunted, his usual scowl firmly in place.

“Dude, you’ve been ghosting me,” Kirishima replied with a broad grin, unphased. “You’ve missed, like, three gym sessions. What gives?”
Katsuki clicked his tongue, rubbing the back of his neck. “Busy, obviously. I’ve got shit to do, alright?”

“Busy with what? Bro, we’re supposed to hit leg day together! And I’ve been stuck doing it solo, do you even know how depressing that is?” Kirishima jabbed a finger at him, grinning mischievously. “You’re slacking, man. Do you want to keep those calves or not?" Kirishima moved to push open the door slightly, kicking his foot against Bakugo's shin.

"Fuck off."

“C’mon, man! Leg day’s calling, and you can’t just leave me hanging like this. Do you know how awkward it is to squat without a spotter? You’re my gym bro — it’s, like, a bond of honour!”

“Honour my ass,” Bakugo muttered, pushing Kirishima’s shoulder lightly to keep him at bay. “I told you, I’ve got stuff to do. Just go without me.”

“Yeah, but it’s not the same, man!” Kirishima whined, leaning against the door frame dramatically. “You don’t ditch leg day. It’s, seriously against the bro code.”

“Bro code, my ass,” Bakugo muttered, rolling his eyes. He rubbed the bridge of his nose as if he was already regretting opening the door. “Look, if you’re that desperate to lift weights with someone, go drag the damn nerd to the gym. Walked in on him shirtless the other week. Guy’s secretly more ripped than you think, and I have a pretty good feeling he does more than just go for nightly runs.”

Kirishima blinked, caught off guard. “Wait, Midoriya?"

Bakugo’s scowl deepened, and he tugged Kirishima lightly in by the collar, pushing him into the hallway and slamming the front door shut.

“Yeah, him. Now go bug him and stay out of my way. I’ve got shit to do.”
Before Kirishima could argue, the blonde had stomped back into the living room — taking his seat on the couch as some news report about an incident that had just taken place barely even a few blocks from the MITech campus. Some messed up hit and run that had been intervened by the hero because he happened to be in the area.

Kirishima stared at his friend for a second, processing what Bakugo had just said. Midoriya? Ripped? That didn’t compute. Sure, Izuku was strong in his own way — and Kirishima had noticed how he seemed to have really nice arms! But refused to flex them due to embarrassment and he even flushed bright red at even the mere question about his routines.

Clearly, it was a sensitive spot!

But ripped?

“No way…” Kirishima muttered under his breath. “Guess I’ll find out myself.” He hummed, before moving to the fridge to pour himself a protein shake. And Bakubro was too engrossed in whatever was on the television to even care about the grating sound of the blender in the background. After finishing that up, he casually strolled down the hallway to what he knew was Izuku's room. Though they weren't exactly friends, they had a quiet solidarity, and hell, Kirishima was convinced he could truly befriend anybody!

Even the most socially awkward.

Kirishima approached Izuku’s door with the casual confidence of someone who had just chugged half a protein shake and felt invincible. He knocked once, then twice, waiting for any kind of response. When nothing came, he rolled his eyes and grinned to himself.

“Yo, Midoriya! You in there, bro? Bakugo said you’ve been holding out on me, and I’m here to drag your ass to the gym!” He paused, listening for any sound.

No response.

He knocked again, a little louder this time. “Midoriya? You okay, man? Don’t tell me you’re skipping leg day on me too,” The red-haired man pouted with lightly puffed cheeks from sheer frustration.

Still nothing.

Kirishima frowned, a sense of mischief flickering across his face. If Midoriya was in there and just being shy, well, this was the perfect chance to pull him out of his shell. He reached for the doorknob, turning it gently. To his surprise, it wasn’t locked. He pushed the door open cautiously, peering inside.

“Hey, I’m coming in, don’t freak out or — OH MY GOD WHAT THE FUCK?!”

The protein shake slipped straight out of Kirishima’s hand, hitting the floor with a loud splat as the plastic cup cracked open, spilling a sticky trail of chocolate liquid across the hardwood.

Kirishima froze, his eyes wide as saucers, because clinging to the ceiling like some sort of freaky, life-sized gecko was none other than Izuku Midoriya. His face twisted into an expression of pure, deer-in-headlights panic. His green curls hung slightly downwards, and his wide, guilty eyes locked onto Kirishima’s like he’d just been caught robbing a bank. His Spiderman mask dangled loosely from one hand, his other pressed firmly against the ceiling as though he’d forgotten how gravity worked.

Izuku was so, royally, fucked.

"What the hell are you yelling about?" Katsuki shouted from the living room, and Izuku's eyes widened further. He brought his finger to his mouth to signal Kirishima to stay quiet — dropping from the ceiling like it was some kind of circus act.

Kirishima's hands were entangled in his hair above his head as he gaped at the scene before him. He seriously could not believe his eyes. Izuku Midoriya, was the Spiderman? Only the most manly guy on the whole goddamn planet? Kirishima could barely contain his noises of complete and utter exhilaration.

But shit, he was going to do exactly what he said, and play it off!

"N-Nothing, Izuku was —" Kirishima went blank, his mind only seeming to come up with only the stupidest of reasons. Midoriya was mouthing incoherent strings of sentences to him, likely telling him what to say, and he read his lips totally wrong. Totally wrong.

"Midoriya was jacking off, sorry! Caught me off guard, everything's good!"

Katsuki recoiled.

And Izuku gaped, eye twitching as his face turned a shade akin to the crimson of Katsuki's gaze.

"Are you fucking serious?" The freckled boy whisper-shouted, before Katsuki finally cut in from the living room. "That's fucking gross, why are you still standing there then?" The blonde peered over from the couch, staring at the red-haired man down the hallway.

Kirishima was smiling like he'd won the lottery, clearly acutely unaware of how utterly inappropriate that excuse was. Especially given Izuku and Katsuki aren't even close enough that it would fly casually, at all.

"Say it was a joke, I'll fucking kill you!" Izuku whisper-shouted, stamping his foot on the floor as his eyebrows were furrowed in an expression that Kirishima had never witnessed on his face before. Pure, and utter frustration mixed with anger. Given Kirishima's newfound discovery of his Spiderman status, he had no doubt that he was capable of such a thing. Even if he looked kind of adorable when frustrated like that.

In a no-homo kinda way!

"Just kidding, he's not home! There's a massive spider on the ceiling though." Kirishima glanced back and forth between the still gaping Spider-boy and the hothead, casually trying to play it off albeit failing miserably.

"Fuck off, let me see." The blonde suddenly trudged up from the sofa, sliding his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants before he moved to begin striding down the hallway casually. Kirishima then watched as the hero shot a web at his wardrobe, slinging the door open before pulling himself into it, and slamming the door shut to conceal himself.

All Kirishima could mouth was "so cool," as he watched the event unfold. Seeing Spiderman in action was so unbelievably awesome, and he couldn't tear his gaze away. Katsuki noticed how still Kirishima looked, and furrowed his brows in disdain as he closed in on him.

Katsuki arrived at the door, moving his hand up onto Kirishima's shoulder to lightly push him out of the way — to shove himself inside. Trailing his gaze up to stare at the ceiling.

Empty.

"Dude."

Izuku was sat in the cramped wardrobe with his hand over his mouth, biting down on it as to not make a peep. His eyes still blown wide from the sheer shock of the situation as he listened to the interaction unfolding.

"Are you like seriously disturbed or something? There's nothing fuckin' there." Katsuki snarled him, to which Izuku stifled a laugh. Thank god he managed it, because that was admittedly funny. "Like seriously, do you need help, someone to talk to? All that pre-workout is frying your brain." Katsuki raised a hand to his shoulder, squeezing it lightly.

Kirishima was smiling like a mad man.

"Oh, it fell down just as you got to the door. Wonder where Midoriya is!" Kirishima casually leaned against the door frame, acting nonchalant but failing. Miserably.

Katsuki sensed there was something wrong, but at the mention of Izuku's name, he recoiled once more. "Oh, yea, don't say nasty shit about him like that again." Katsuki suddenly removed his hand — staring off to a random place on the wall of the hallway. "We're not close like that."

Ouch?

But also, not ouch?

God, Izuku didn't know how to take that.

"Whaaaat, but haven't you two been friends since you were kids? I'd think you guys would at least —" Kirishima was then cut off, "Shut up." Katsuki's gaze almost looked sharper than usual. "Just because I can tolerate listening to you drone on about the nasty shit you and Mina get up to doesn't mean you can say shit about him." Katsuki huffed, leaning against the wall next to Kirishima. Who's smile was faltering.

Izuku was mortified.

"Even if it were true it would've been better if you'd have just played it off, now that's actually breaking bro code."

Izuku could barely tell, but it almost seemed like Katsuki was defending him?

The blonde didn't exactly have a way with words — but that's what he was getting from that. Oh and also, that Kirishima is not only a terrible liar but a fucking idiot too.

"My bad bro, didn't mean to strike a nerve." Kirishima shrugged, lifting both of his hands into the air in admission of guilt. Katsuki just grunted in response. "You didn't hit a nerve." Bakugo retorted, before pushing past him, clipping their shoulders together as he did. "I'm gonna get a shower, clean up the fucking shake, you ass."

He so hit a nerve.

"I expect it to be spotless when I'm out." Katsuki muttered as he walked further down the hallway to the bathroom. And as soon as the door slammed behind him, Kirishima ushered himself in and pushed the door of Izuku's bedroom shut. And within moments, the unmasked hero slid the door of his hiding place open — crawling out angrily before dusting himself off and standing straight. He fixed Kirishima with a face twisted in a mix of mortification and fury.

He looked like he was about two seconds away from throttling Kirishima, who, to his credit, was stood there grinning like he’d just stumbled into the coolest secret of all time.

“What the hell was that?!” Izuku whisper-shouted, throwing his arms in the air.

Kirishima, completely unphased, leaned against the doorframe with a casual shrug. “What? I panicked! Your face said 'don't tell him the truth', and my brain just… went for the first excuse I could think of!”

“The first excuse you thought of was that I was jacking off?!” Izuku’s face was practically glowing red, his hands flailing wildly.

“What kind of person even thinks like that?!”

“Hey, don’t blame me! It worked, didn’t it?” Kirishima grinned, but when Izuku just buried his face in his hands and groaned, the redhead held up his palms defensively. “Okay, okay, bad move. My bad. But, dude —” He straightened up, eyes sparkling with excitement.

“You’re Spiderman!”

Izuku froze, his hands still on his face, before slowly dragging them down to reveal his panicked expression. “Shhhh!” He darted forward, slapping his hands over Kirishima’s mouth. “Are you insane?! Katsuki’s still in the dorm! Do you want me to die?”

Kirishima’s muffled voice came from behind Izuku’s hands. “Does he know?”

“Clearly not!” Izuku whisper-hissed, his hands flying away from Kirishima’s mouth to start pacing the room. “And if he found out, he’d kill me! You can’t tell him, Kirishima. You can’t tell anyone.” He spun around, pointing a trembling finger at the redhead.

“I’m serious. If this gets out, I’m screwed. Promise me you won’t tell.”

“Okay, okay, I promise!” Kirishima said, raising his hands as if swearing an oath. “Not a word to anyone. Not even Bakugo.”

Izuku narrowed his eyes, sceptical. “You better not. You’re the worst liar I’ve ever met. If you even hint at this, Katsuki will figure it out in, like, two seconds. He's seriously perceptive.”

“I’ll do better!” Kirishima protested, thumping a fist against his chest. “I swear! This is, like, the coolest thing ever, and there’s no way I’m gonna mess it up for you!”

Izuku groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. “This isn’t cool, Kirishima!" he punctuated the 'cool' with air quotes, "It’s dangerous! Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep this a secret? And now you know!” He groaned again, leaning against the edge of his desk and burying his face in his hands.

“I’m so screwed.”

“C’mon, man, don’t be like that!” Kirishima said, stepping closer, his grin unshakable. “I’m not gonna spill, I swear. And, uh… hey, since I know now, maybe I can, you know — help?”

Izuku peeked out from between his fingers, his expression a mix of horror and disbelief. “Help? Help?! You want to help? Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“Why not?” Kirishima asked, genuinely confused. “I’m trained in martial arts, you know! And, dude, you’ve gotta admit — it’s probably super lonely doing all this by yourself, right?”

Izuku opened his mouth to argue but hesitated. Kirishima wasn’t wrong. The secret had been weighing on him for so long, and there were nights when he felt the crushing loneliness of carrying the burden alone. But still...

“No,” he said firmly, crossing his arms. “Absolutely not. You’re already bad at keeping secrets, and this is way too dangerous. If something happened to you because of me —” He broke off, shaking his head.

“No. Just no.”

Kirishima’s grin softened into something more understanding. “I get it, man. I do. But…” He rubbed the back of his neck, his usual carefree demeanour giving way to something a little more serious. “I just don’t like the thought of you doing all this on your own, you know? I mean, bros have each other’s backs. And you’re my bro, Midoriya. Whether you like it or not.”

Izuku sighed, running a hand through his curls. “Kirishima, I…” He hesitated, glancing at the redhead’s earnest expression.

“Look, I appreciate it. I really do. But this isn’t a ‘bro’ thing, okay? It’s… it’s my responsibility.”

“Responsibility’s easier when it’s shared,” Kirishima said with a lopsided grin. “Just saying.”

Izuku shook his head, though a small, reluctant smile tugged at his lips.

“You’re impossible.”

“And you’re Spiderman,” Kirishima shot back, his grin widening. “So I think that makes us even.”

Izuku rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped him.

“You’re still not helping.”

“Fine, fine, no helping,” Kirishima said, holding up his hands. “But you gotta let me ask questions. Like, how do you even swing between buildings? Is it just the webs? Or is it, like, some kind of advanced parkour thing?”

Izuku groaned, already regretting everything. “Kirishima…”

“And do the webs come out of your wrists, or is it, like, a gadget? Oh! And how do you fight villains without anyone recognizing you? Is it just the mask? Or —”

“Kirishima, shut up!”

“Got it. Shutting up. But seriously, dude… so cool!”

. . .

Izuku could hardly believe his identity had been revealed — no less to somebody who was practically a stranger.

It certainly could've gone worse, especially if Katsuki was the one to open the door. He had to remind himself to stay cautious now especially when it came to locking his bedroom door before leaving. He'd only forgotten because he was in such a rush, sat at his desk one minute — going over his study material for an upcoming biochemistry exam he had, the next, swinging out of his window at a borderline desperate pace.

Only a couple blocks away from their campus, a young man, likely even still a teenager — was shot and killed in broad daylight because he'd gotten caught up in some gang crime. He'd apparently been tasked with drug transportation and dealing, and after some produce had gone missing, was shot point blank in the skull in the middle of the street with dozens of eyewitnesses. At least, that's what he'd seen briefly outlined online. He could barely find information on it himself — seeing how articles about debacles like this usually focused solely on the intervention of Spiderman.

He hated that.

And because of it, he could see why people would think that he was seeking eyes and attention on him, rather than just leading with the good intention of stopping the crime altogether. Purely because of the way the media portrays him.

It's always Spiderman saves the day again!

And never the guttural truths of many of the crimes he's faced with. He didn't understand it, at all. In fact — he hated the way the events had almost turned into something to be glorified.

Izuku didn't want praise.

He doesn't care for praise.

All he cared about was making an impact. Sending a message, giving people hope. Somebody to believe in. Somebody who they know will always fight for them, and always be there in their corner. Because he too, behind the mask — was no different than anybody else at his core.

With a few extra abilities, of course.

But beyond that, he'd grown up typical. With social difficulties and looming mental health issues — sure, but even that only made him more human. Without that context for people to hold, without knowing who he is, they can only ever make assumptions. And as much as he understands that — he constantly feels like he's playing a role. Rather than just being himself.

Because there's a stark difference between Izuku Midoriya and Spiderman.

Part of him wonders where the lines blur, whether the suit brings out his true self, or taints it. He's barely able to comprehend it himself. Leading two lives and doing it predominantly isolated isn't an easy task.

That was, until Kirishima waltzed his way into his life, without giving him any real choice in the matter. And in the beginning — it was awful. As ridiculous as the reveal had gone, and though he established quickly just how loyal Kirishima was, it still tasted sour. For the first weeks afterwards, the redhead was blowing up his phone like no tomorrow.

Asking him to hang out, or how his patrols had gone, or rambling on about drama within his friend circle — or his girlfriend. It was incredibly overbearing. And he hated feeling as though it was purely because he was Spiderman.

If Kirishima didn't know, he wouldn't be acting like this.

Everything would still be normal.

Right?

He'd had to send a longwinded message about 'allowing him some privacy', and lightly encouraging the red-head to seek companionship elsewhere, but Kirishima didn't seem to budge. He did calm down with the privacy part — and stopped showing up outside his lecture buildings or banging on the front door in the middle of the night asking for himrather than Bakugo.

And he had to explicitly explain the sheer gravity of what it would mean for him if Bakugo knew. Sharing a little of their backstory together without going into too much detail. He wanted to keep his deep personal troubles relatively hidden, and he certainly didn't want to paint Katsuki to be some kind of enemy.

Sure, things were awkward.

They had been awkward. But they had their moments, where things didn't seem so awful. No matter what, there were tensions between them. But the tensions tended to portray themselves in varying manners. Manners in which Izuku couldn't wrap his head around.

He'd sensed some hostility from the blonde since Kirishima's keen interest. Like he knew there was something up — almost as though his tongue had soured, too. He felt his side-eyes from across the room, the glares that lingered longer than he was used to, and he especially noticed how withdrawn Katsuki had been in general.

He'd thought that Katsuki was maybe going through some kind of rough patch mentally, but after asking Kirishima — he claimed that Bakugo sometimes just had his 'isolation' periods. Sure, they usually came along with triggers — but apparently he had monthly therapy sessions that had been addressing his plethora of issues since he was a teen. Which apparently had infrequented over the years. He couldn't imagine the Katsuki he once knew attending weekly therapy sessions.

After probing Kirishima for more answers, he was told that Katsuki had admitted his past behaviours briefly. And that there were 'plenty of things' that Izuku didn't know about Katsuki.

Which was a troubling thought.

Because he had once known everything about Kacchan.

But one detail stood out to him, and he found himself ruminating on it. Izuku had gotten therapy himself after his suicide attempt — thankfully. And though he wasn't particularly engaged and stopped attending as soon as he was able, he knew that it at least did him some good. But he found it perculiar how Katsuki had seemingly started going to the sessions at the same time.

And one weekend, he couldn't resist.

He got the bus to his former family home, which was an experience he hadn't had in a while. Given that he didn't tend to go anywhere outside of the MITech campus beyond supermarkets. And if he did, he wasn't exactly getting the bus. But it was nearing the end of Springtime, and he'd felt guilty for how long he hadn't paid his mother a visit. Last he recalled — it'd been Christmas when he'd seen her last. Beyond their weekly phone calls.

And he had some questions.

He showed up unannounced, with a bundle of flowers in his hand that he'd carried all the way from his campus to the Shizuoka Prefecture. An old lady on the bus had a cat on a leash — which was the silliest sight he'd seen in a while. The cat was inquisitively sniffing the flowers, and he couldn't help but await telling his mother all about the lovely owner he'd had a chat with.

When he stood outside the door, his knees felt weak. Despite how this was technically still his home — it felt so unfamiliar now. Within a few moments of knocking on the door, his mother opened the door with a "Yeees—?" only to gape up at her son.

"Izuku, baby!" She practically lunged into a hug, squishing the bundle of flowers between the two of them. Izuku laughed breathlessly — holding her tightly. He did miss her, an awful lot. He hated imagining how much she'd worry if she knew what he got up to in his free time. He already knew the extent to which she worried, regardless. So even the idea of her learning of his double life made him feel queasy.

As Inko pulled Izuku into the house, she chattered excitedly about how long it had been, her voice a comforting blend of scolding and affection. He kicked off his sneakers, setting the now slightly squished flowers on the entryway table.

The warmth of the house — his childhood home — seeped into his bones, but a faint pang of discomfort still lingered, a reminder of how distant he'd felt from it since moving out.

“So, what’s the occasion?” Inko asked brightly, leading him into the kitchen. She was already reaching for the kettle, as though this were just another evening in his teenage years, and not months since their last face-to-face. “You didn’t even tell me you were coming, Izuku! I would’ve cooked something nice!”

He waved his hand dismissively, sitting down at the small dining table.

“No, no— it’s fine, Mom. I just… I missed you. Thought I’d stop by.”

Her back was to him as she filled the kettle, but she glanced over her shoulder. Her expression softened. “You’ve been so busy with school, I know. But you know you’re always welcome here.”

Izuku nodded, picking absently at a loose thread on the tablecloth. “Thank you, Mom. I… Um— I actually wanted to talk to you about something.”

The kettle clicked off almost as soon as it had started, a symptom of his mother’s preparedness to boil water at the drop of a hat. She busied herself pouring tea into two cups before setting them on the table and sitting across from him.

Her brows furrowed. “What’s on your mind?”

He hesitated, staring into the swirling liquid of his cup. “It’s about Katsuki.”

The tension that passed through Inko’s face was subtle but immediate. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and her hands cupped the mug in her hands tightly.

“Oh?”

Izuku took a deep breath. “It’s just… I’ve been living with him for a while now, as you know. At first, I thought I’d be fine. I mean, I was a mess in the beginning — but I guess I was okay with just ignoring it.” He stopped, struggling to find the words. “It’s like… there’s this wall between us, and I can’t figure out if it’s because of who he is now, or if it’s because of who he was then. And every time I try to make sense of it, I just… I can’t.”

Inko didn’t say anything right away, letting him wrestle his way through his thoughts.

“It’s not just about him, though,” Izuku continued, voice quieter now. “I feel like it’s me, too. Like maybe I didn’t change as much as I thought I did. And with him being right there, it’s like I'm right back there again— like I’m the kid who wasn’t good enough, who couldn’t do anything right.”

He clenched his fist under the table. “I’m supposed to be over this. I am over this. But it’s like… Katsuki doesn’t even have to try, and he still gets under my skin.” His jaw clenched.

"I just don't understand why he won't talk to me, and why the hell he's just acted like there's nothing even worth confronting between us."

There was a long silence after that, and Izuku found himself lost in it.

Inko reached out, placing a hand over his. Her voice was soft but firm. “Honey, it’s okay to feel like that. It doesn’t mean you haven’t grown. Sometimes, the people who hurt us the most — especially when we’re young — they leave marks that take time to fade. If they ever do.”

Izuku’s throat felt tight. “I just don’t understand him anymore. He’s different. He’s calmer, more… reserved. But then he’ll snap, or he’ll give me that look, and suddenly I can’t tell if I’m imagining it, or if he still… still hates me.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Inko sighed, her thumb brushing lightly over his knuckles.

“I’m going to tell you something, but you need to promise me you’ll listen with an open heart.”

He blinked at her.

“Okay?”

Her gaze grew distant like she was looking at something far beyond him. “Mitsuki and I… we’ve stayed friends. Not as close as we used to be, but we’ve always kept in touch. And during that time — especially after you and Katsuki… drifted apart — she told me things. Things about him that I didn’t know back then.”

Izuku tilted his head, confused. “Like what?”

Inko hesitated, her lips pressing together in thought. “Like how he’s struggled, too. Maybe not in the same way you have, but Mitsuki told me that he started going to therapy after you left Aldera Junior High. And, Izuku… it wasn’t just because of his anger issues. Mitsuki noticed how much guilt he carried, even if he didn’t show it. She said it scared her how much he bottled up.”

That caught Izuku off guard. Though Kirishima hadn't explained in vivid detail, it felt like the pieces were actually clicking into place.

Inko continued, “She never forced him to open up completely, but she was worried about him. She told me about how in one family session in particular where he’d mentioned… well, you. About how he felt he’d ruined things between you two, but he didn’t know how to fix it. Mitsuki thought you might’ve been one of the reasons he agreed to go to therapy in the first place.”

Izuku felt like his head was spinning. “Why didn’t she…? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Inko gave him a rueful smile. “We didn’t think it was our place. And to be honest, I didn’t want to put more pressure on you back then. You were already going through so much after your…” She trailed off, glancing away.

“My attempt,” Izuku finished quietly.

Her shoulders sagged, and her eyes glistened. “Yes. After that. Mitsuki never told Katsuki what happened, but admittedly I did tell her not long after it happened. It was what got him into therapy in the first place, despite how he wasn't aware of it himself. She thought maybe it was better for both of you to have some distance. And truthfully, we never expected things to work out they did."

Izuku rubbed his temples, his entire body feeling tense. “This is… a lot.”

“I know,” Inko said gently. “But I think you two were more connected than either of you realized. Mitsuki even mentioned once that she thought it was… strange, how much you two came up in each other’s sessions. Almost like fate had tied you together, for better or worse.”

He froze. “Wait— what do you mean, ‘each other’s sessions’?”

Inko blinked. “Oh… I almost forgot. You and Katsuki went to the same therapist. I’m not sure how that happened, but Mitsuki and I only found out much later. Honestly, it felt a little… inappropriate, but I think the therapist believed there was value in understanding both perspectives.”

Izuku’s jaw dropped. “You’re telling me… the same person who helped me was also helping him?”

“Yes,” Inko admitted. “Though it’s not surprising that neither of you knew. Therapists are very careful about confidentiality.”

Izuku leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. “That explains so much.”

“Like what?”

He closed his eyes, recalling his sessions. How the therapist would bring up forgiveness, guilt, and even the concept of facing those who'd hurt you. It always felt abstract, like he was dancing around something. A bigger truth. Now it made so much sense.

“It’s just…” He shook his head. “I don’t even know how to feel right now. About him. About all of it.”

Inko reached for his hand again, squeezing it firmly. “Take your time, Izuku. No one’s asking you to figure it all out at once. But maybe… maybe it’s worth trying to talk to him. Really, talk with him.”

He didn’t answer right away, his thoughts tangled and heavy. “Yeah,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Maybe.”

. . .

Chapter notes:

[ Aaaand, scene. (Spiderdeku reference)

I hope you guys loved the mix of fluff, angst, and an INSANE out-of-pocket identity reveal. This chapter is so fucking hilarious I was chortling to myself writing it. And also clenching my heart. If you couldn't tell, I referenced Ned finding out Peter's identity in the MCU's Spiderman with the Kirideku reveal — I wanted it to have that same comedic effect. But instead of the death star it was the protein shake LMFAO.

I think for Spideydeku I take most of my inspiration from Andrew Garfield's spiderman because of how much of an edgelord Izuku can be, but when it comes to humour I cannot help but reference MCU. Because Tom's Peter is a walking talking disaster and I love it. (Do a flip!)

I know my shifting in perspectives has been a bit whip-lashy so I hope you guys can keep up LOL. I think my favourite thing about this chapter was seeing Katsuki's protectiveness over Izuku and how he's so blissfully unaware of the extent of his own feelings. Apologies that the only thing you guys got from Izuku's perspective this chapter was earth-shattering angst. Poor boy is juggling so much.

I really wanted to delve into their personal lives, specifically Katsuki's (and yes, if you can't tell the 'irritating punks' are Jirou, Mina, Denki, and Sero!) I wanted to imply that they're in a band! Which I think is just something cute and self-indulgent. Bakugo probably plays drums for them sometimes if they ask nicely enough.

I intend to delve into Izuku's shifting personal life at some point, introducing certain characters... But right now I'm probably going to focus on how insane Bakugo is going. Angst incoming. Let me know how you guys feel about this chapter and feel free to give your input on anything you'd like to see! Ps, if you notice any mistakes... no you didn’t… HAHAHAHA.

Until next time! ]

Chapter Text

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

He'd linked it back to Aldera Junior High.

Of course, he had.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He'd even asked for a signature.

Which was kind of sweet, admittedly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he's Izuku's biochemistry professor.

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

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

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

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

That wasn't the case.

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

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

. . .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Before slamming the door in his face.

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

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

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

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

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

What the hell was that about?

And why the hell does he seem genuinely pissed?

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

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

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

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

Phew! He wasn't.

. . .

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

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

Charcoal.

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

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

It was inspiring, actually.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

OH MY GOD, THIS ISN'T HAPPENING!

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

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

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

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

Still, here was to hoping!

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

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

It was sweet, in a chaotic sort of way.

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

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

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

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

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

And that thought alone felt, nice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Izuku blinked, completely caught off guard.

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

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

Izuku swallowed his bisexuality demons as fast as they arose.

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

Izuku’s eyes widened.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

. . .

Katsuki isn’t an idiot.

Something was seriously wrong.

Then again, when wasn't it?

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

Something deeper.

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

And his instincts? They were screaming at him now.

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

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

And Izuku was the furthest thing from appearing prepared.

That was fine.

Even if it ate him up.

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

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

Kirishima.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Katsuki wasn't holding his board.

He hadn't even considered bringing it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“C’mon, man. It’s not like that —”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hated how it had sort of stuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Was that it?

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

The thought made him sick.

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

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

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

And maybe that was the problem.

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

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

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

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

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

It burned in his chest like a live wire.

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

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

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

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

“Bakugo, that’s not—”

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

Kirishima’s expression hardened, his easygoing demeanour slipping.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because Kirishima was right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In a fucking heartbeat.

. . .

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

It started with a flash of green.

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

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

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

And maybe he had.

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

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

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

The flashbacks didn’t stop.

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

That was the part that killed him the most.

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

But the images didn’t stop.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nothing was.

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

He just felt small.

Weak.

And so, so sorry.

. . .

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

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

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

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

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

A flash of blonde in the moonlight.

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

Katsuki.

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

Something Izuku couldn't help but want to lift.

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

Then Izuku heard it.

The cries.

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

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

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

Especially not like this.

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

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

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

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

Izuku stood still.

In fact, the entire world stood still.

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

"Blondie."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was breaking.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Enlighten me."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But at least, now he knew it was necessary.

Not for him, but for Katsuki.

And a little bit for himself.

A lot for himself.

It's complicated...

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

"Katsuki Bakugo."

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

So pretty when he cries.

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

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

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

He wasn't all useless.

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

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

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

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

Always.

Even now...

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

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

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

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

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

Much like someone else he knew.

Which was strangely amusing.

Then, it slipped out.

"Why?"

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

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

Why didn’t he like Spiderman?

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

And that scared the hell out of him.

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

“It’s infuriating.”

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

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

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

He did.

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

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

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

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

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

But right now, what else was there to do?

Still, gnawing feelings remained.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That slipped out.

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

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

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

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

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

Katsuki’s heart skipped a beat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just you.”

. . .

Chapter notes:

[ WHAT A PLACE TO FINISH.

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

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

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

. . .

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

Chapter Text

Katsuki could do nothing but stand there, stunned. He could barely process the fact that Spiderman was flirting with him, never mind the fact that he seemed so damn sincere about certain things he'd said. Sure, he was clearly joking, but he'd still managed to strike a nerve that Katsuki wasn't ready to face.

It was driving him absolutely insane.

And it didn’t help that the ache in his chest only seemed to worsen. The feelings that had once been fueled by bitterness and rage were now shifting, warping into something new, something soft and squishy and particularly unbearable, and it was clawing its way out of the cage he’d locked it in for so many years.

Something absolutely fucking terrifying.

He had to shove it down.

As far as he possibly could.

Because how could he live with himself if he didn’t?

It was bad enough — the way he already felt towards the nerd, the same way he had for what felt like his entire life. The reason he’d turned on Izuku in the first place, the reason he’d targeted him and victimised him in Junior High, the reason he’d tried so desperately to shove him away.

It wasn’t because Izuku was weak, or annoying. And it wasn’t because Katsuki thought he was better than him, not really.

It was because he loathed himself.

He hated his own abnormal feelings. The ones that made him feel sick whenever he let himself think about them. The ones that filled him with disgust and confusion. And, shame. He had to rid himself of their source, to rip the weed out by its roots. Because if he didn't, he’d just end up getting hurt.

He’d just end up disappointing everyone.

Disappointing Izuku.

Right?

That thought hit harder than anything else. The idea of Izuku looking at him the way the rest of the world might — with pity, or worse, with rejection — was unbearable. Katsuki moved his arms from being crossed across his chest, to being clenched fists at his sides, nails biting into his palms, grounding himself in the sting of the pain.

He couldn’t let it happen.

As a child, he remembered overhearing the conversations strangers would have with his parents. They’d gush about him, a grinning little boy with ash blonde hair and fiery red eyes, saying things like, "Oh, he’s going to be so handsome when he grows up!” or, “He’ll have a lovely wife one day!”

And he could never understand it.

Was he supposed to want that?

A wife? A... girl... friend?

None of the girls his age ever interested him. In fact, they just annoyed him. They giggled and blushed and whispered about him, and their stares felt completely suffocating. He couldn’t stand it. But... why did Katsuki feel warm and fuzzy whenever Izuku held his hand while they played? Why did his chest tighten in a strange, electric way when Izuku smiled at him, so bright and unfiltered, like Katsuki was the only person in the world who actually mattered?

Why did he make Katsuki want to keep cracking dumb jokes, just to hear his stupid laugh?

Why didn’t girls make him feel that way?

Why couldn’t he just be normal?

Katsuki’s heart ached to love, to feel something real, but he couldn’t love anybody the way it seemed he was supposed to. Not a girl, not the way everyone expected him to. And that thought alone cut him deeper than any insult, deeper than any punch or scrape or scar. It hurt in a way he couldn’t explain, a way he couldn’t fix.

Because no matter how much he tried to fight it, to deny it, he knew the truth deep down.

He’d always been different.

And he hated himself for it.

He hated himself for loving Izuku Midoriya.

And now here was Spiderman, standing before him and fucking teasing him like that. A guy showing "interest" in him. And no less, a fucking so-called hero too. A hero who made him feel heard, who made him feel seen, despite how he'd admitted how much he didn't like him. Even after so thoroughly criticising him. And still, Spiderman was there. Acting like he could see through his very soul, and straight to the damaged little boy underneath. The boy who was crying out to be loved, to be wanted, to be... normal.

Katsuki’s chest burned with a fury he didn’t know where to direct, in an anger at himself, at the world, at this.

“Don’t mess with me like that,” Katsuki suddenly spoke, his voice low but trembling, wavering with something he couldn’t control. He stared down at the hero, still sitting cross-legged on the concrete like none of this was a big deal. His crimson eyes burned, and his jaw tightened as he added, “I’m serious, bug freak. Don’t...” His eyes softened for a moment, and Izuku caught it in an instant.

Something was wrong.

Izuku could hear the way Katsuki’s heart was pounding, fast and uneven, like a wild animal trapped in a cage. He could see the way his fists shook, the way his arms were tense, the way his eyes burned with something so intense and painful it made Izuku’s chest ache to see it.

And without thinking, he was standing up.

His body moving on its own.

Izuku took a step closer, and Katsuki didn’t move. He didn’t even flinch. He couldn’t.

Izuku tilted his head, clearly taken aback, though the mask didn’t show much of his expression. His body language softened.

“Blondie... I wasn’t—"

“Shut up,” Katsuki growled, cutting him off, his hands curling into deeper fists at his sides. His arms trembled with the force of his grip. His voice dropped, softer now, almost broken, though his glare remained sharp.

“Just... stop.”

Izuku wasn't going to push that. If he was truly making Katsuki uncomfortable, he wouldn't want to further that. But something told him that this was more than just "uncomfortable". This was something else entirely.

“What's wrong?” Izuku asked, hesitant, his movements slow and careful. He reached up, gloved hand grazing the side of Katsuki's cheek — thumb caressing him so gently. Reverently. A touch Katsuki hadn't ever dreamt he could feel. A touch he could never deserve.

Katsuki froze. He couldn’t find the words to explain it — the way Spiderman was looking at him. Even if just through a mask, he could feel it in the way he moved. In the way he spoke. It wasn’t pity, but it wasn’t mocking, either.

It was just... there.

Raw, gentle and understanding.

And it made Katsuki want to tear himself apart. To scream. His breath hitched as Spiderman’s gloved thumb brushed against his cheek, the touch so light and deliberate it made his skin burn beneath it. Every nerve in his body screamed at him to pull away, to shove the hero back and create the distance he so desperately needed.

But he didn’t move.

He couldn’t.

Izuku didn’t know what Katsuki was feeling, not exactly. But he knew one thing. He couldn’t stand it.

Katsuki's lips parted as though he were going to begin to speak, but the words were caught in his throat, a tangled mess of frustration and self-loathing, and something else — something he refused to name. And he remained silent. Frozen, still.

“Katsuki, what’s wrong?” Izuku asked again, softer this time, his voice barely above a whisper as he struggled to maintain the forced tone in his voice that made him still somewhat unrecognisable. He hoped.

He stepped closer, the space between them shrinking until Katsuki could feel the warmth of his body, even through the fabric of his suit. “You don’t have to tell me, but... you can. If you want.”

“I don’t... want." Katsuki snapped, though his voice still lacked venom. It cracked at the edges, raw and unsteady, betraying him in a way that made his stomach twist. He suddenly moved his hand up to take Spiderman by the wrist, pulling his hand away from his face and holding it there.

It reminded him of the way he'd taken Izuku's wrist just before he'd begun cleaning the wound on his face that time. And the thought of Izuku's crinkled nose bridge at the smell of the dried blood and alcohol made Katsuki's throat feel so tight, so suffocating. And the tears that threatened to overflow were starting now.

Izuku didn’t flinch. He stayed rooted, watching Katsuki with that quiet intensity that made him feel like he was being peeled apart, layer by painful layer. Like Spiderman could see everything he was trying so hard to hide. He didn't pull his arm away — he just let Katsuki's curling fingers tighten.

Katsuki’s grip constricted further, trembling as his body fought against the wave of emotions he couldn’t contain any longer. His chest heaved, his breath uneven and ragged, and he couldn't stop himself from breaking even further than he already had. He'd hoped the tears he'd cried when he was alone there would've been enough. But no, everything was reminding him of his own self-hatred.

Of the disappointment he was.

His eyes burned, and before he could stop it, a hot tear slipped down his cheek. Lips parted — body trembling as he let out a noise of complete and utter despair. A cry that sounded so weak, so painful, that before Izuku knew it, his body was moving on its own again.

He snatched his wrist away and moved to pull Katsuki into him, one hand sliding fingers through tufts of thick ash blonde hair — pulling him forcefully into Izuku's shoulder. The other moved to take Katsuki's waist underneath his jacket, just... holding him.

Holding him there, silently.

And Katsuki couldn't stop himself from the cries that escaped.

It was too late to even try.

And before long, his own hands moved to wrap underneath Spiderman's arms, clinging to his back for dear life. And he just sobbed there. Into the material of Spiderman's suit — his heart pounding against his chest as the tears continued to fall.

"You're okay..." Spiderman whispered in Katsuki's ear, leaning against the side of his face as his hands comforted him. Stroking his hair, holding his waist so gently. Even through the spandex, he was still so...warm.

"I've got you."

Izuku didn’t move, didn’t push. He simply waited, the silence stretching between them like a fragile thread, only being broken by choked noises and muffled sobs as Katsuki clung to him like a lifeline.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd hugged Katsuki. And now here he was, clinging to him like he never wanted to let go. It was heartbreaking, but at the same time... Izuku realised how much he'd needed this himself.

Though, it just felt awful, behind a mask.

Behind a lie.

He felt selfish enough having stepped in, knowing it'd only be risking his identity and building a relationship between him and Katsuki, which he hadn't even managed to do outside of being Spiderman. Why was it fair that he was doing so now, just hidden behind a mask?

He felt so guilty. But he couldn't let go. Not now, not like this.

He just held tighter.

Katsuki let out another whimpered sob, clutching tighter to Spiderman — as he fought back the urge to spill out his entire soul to him. Though at the same time, he couldn't be any more angry at himself. For bearing himself and his deep-rooted shameful misery to this masked nobody — as if he actually cared.

But god, he's warm.

And he smells so familiar.

And the way he's clutching onto Katsuki's hair like he's the only thing in the world that matters... when he could be out there stopping petty crimes or — doing whatever Spiderman usually does on nights like these.

Which is, certainly not this.

And the way he whispered those stupidly comforting reminders in his ear so sincerely like he was truly trying to remind Katsuki that he doesn't have to be so alone. That he has someone else holding him up, ready to catch him when he falls. Even if he was some dumb superhero.

God.

Katsuki just remained silent. He opened his mouth to try and speak, but words weren't coming out. His hands gripped on tighter to Izuku for just a moment, fingers clinging to rough spandex, feeling the way it pulled away from the warmth of the skin beneath.

Then, after a moment — he was sniffling up the last few remains of the tears, before pulling back, wanting to search into the eyes of whom he couldn't see. He wanted to see them, so badly. And that sentiment itself was enough to leave Katsuki feeling gutted from the inside out.

“Katsuki…” Spiderman whispered, gazing into those tear-filled crimson eyes, brimming with a despair he wished he could erase entirely.

In his mind, he weighed just coming clean about who he was full stop. Coming out — and starting the conversation he'd been avoiding for so long. With the added, "Oh, and I'm Spiderman."

Originally, it hadn't even been a question of whether Izuku would ever tell him. Katsuki couldn't know, because of his feelings towards Spiderman. Because of the unresolved conflict between the two beneath the mask. Because... Izuku didn't want to feel the revulsion from him ever again.

The loathing that Izuku couldn't escape for so many years, the one that threatened to creep back with every interaction. Every glance in Katsuki's direction. Every damn word spoken. And it loomed over Izuku, every single day of his life.

But right now, all he could think about was telling him.

Would Katsuki understand?

Would he... hate him for it, all over again?

He barely had time to think before Katsuki suddenly spoke, taking a step back from the masked hero, and glaring down to the floor as he pushed against his shoulder, creating distance.

There goes his chance.

"Don't tell anybody about this." Katsuki suddenly muttered, jaw clenched tight. But even as he said those words, his voice was hollow, almost pleading, because deep down, he knew Spiderman wouldn't even dream of doing that. He was proving to truly be somebody that Katsuki was actually wrong about...

Like he was wrong about so many things.

"I have nobody to tell." Izuku dead-panned, and Katsuki could feel the weight of those words. The lack of deceit. He was telling the truth. "Nobody who could help, anyways."

Kirishima would throw a dumbbell at Izuku's head for that, but oh well.

Katsuki felt more exposed and terrified than he ever had, but at the same time, a strange weight had been lifted from his chest that had been weighing him down for so long. Even though he had a lack of a resolution, Spiderman's comfort, even if only for a short while...Helped.

"I just... I don't want you to think—" Katsuki's voice was soft, a kind of softness that Izuku hadn't heard since they were children.

"That you're weak?" Izuku finished his sentence for him, "You're not."

And he said that with so much clarity. Blunt clarity, but clarity nonetheless.

Katsuki froze, his eyes wide for a moment — before he suddenly... smiled. Which took Izuku completely off guard, making his own eyes widen beneath the mask.

God, when was the last time he'd seen him smile like that?

"You really are good at this shit, reading people, and I honestly hate you even more for it." Katsuki huffed, his shoulders slumping as he leaned his hands on the concrete ledge behind him. There were still dried tears on his face, but the way he seemed to be so relaxed now made Izuku comforted in knowing that he was really getting through to him. Truly.

And his original selfish thoughts about showing Katsuki that Spiderman isn't all bad, had turned into something more.

Something so much deeper.

And it was like he was finally bandaging the wound that had been open for so long, waiting for him to tend to it. And despite how he'd felt he would never be able to understand Katsuki, now, it was like he had a window straight through to his very soul.

And god, he wished he'd seen sooner.

It would've made it so much easier.

So much easier to... forgive.

And that taste of charcoal was beginning to subside.

"Sure you do," Spiderman teased, his head now tilted as his tone was laced with that light sarcasm that Katsuki used to hate so much. Now, it didn't seem so mocking. It was gentle. Izuku didn't step away, or swing off like Katsuki expected. He was still just standing there. Like he knew that Katsuki was trying to act like nothing happened, whilst also seeing how raw and fragile he still was.

Izuku reached his hand up suddenly, and gently placed a hand on Katsuki’s shoulder. His voice was annoyingly soft as he began, “You don’t have to carry this alone. If you ever—” Izuku’s senses spiked sharply the moment Katsuki froze under his hand. The faint hitch in Katsuki’s breath wasn’t audible to most, but Izuku heard it as clearly as a crack in glass.

Izuku’s fingers tightened slightly on Katsuki’s shoulder, his own pulse quickening in response. His mind sharpened, suddenly hyper-aware of everything. The way Katsuki’s muscles tensed under his hand, the subtle creak of his weight shifting, and the quiet sound of his breath catching before evening out again. Before the faint hum of sirens in the distance began ringing in his ear, and that gut-wrenching acquainted feeling of danger made him feel suddenly like a pile of bricks had been thrown at him full-force. All with notes on them that clearly spelt out ' something is seriously wrong'.

Katsuki immediately noticed the shift in Spiderman’s demeanour. “What?" He asked, to which Spiderman stayed frozen there.

What the hell?

"What the fuck's with you all of a sudden?” He continued after not getting a response, his voice hoarse with confusion, still laced with the defensiveness Izuku was so used to hearing. It was like his guard had snapped back into place now that the brief moment of vulnerability had passed. Katsuki couldn’t ignore the way the atmosphere seemed to sour so fast, and to his own frustration, he felt a strange flicker of genuine worry for the hero.

Izuku stepped back abruptly, his tone sharp and focused now, the warmth in his voice replaced by a threatening urgency. "Something's happening, I need to go." He responded, to which Katsuki's eyebrows furrowed into something that could only be described as hurt.

He didn't want Spiderman to leave.

And Izuku caught that expression. He knew what it meant.

But he couldn't stay.

Izuku hesitated for a split second as he began taking steps away, standing still before he hesitantly put his arm out to shoot a web towards a nearby building. But he froze, glancing back to Katsuki who was now standing there with his arms at his sides, defeated. He didn't want to leave him like this, not after seeing him break down like that. Not after they had so much more to say to each other.

But he knew he had no choice.

Being a hero, was his top priority.

Wasn't it?

“Are you going to be okay?” he asked quickly, to which Katsuki scowled, crossing his arms over his chest like Izuku was so used to seeing when Katsuki was being defensive.

"I’m fine, asshole. Just... fucking, get out of here already." Katsuki’s voice was gruff, but there was a trace of something softer beneath it —gratitude, maybe, or a plea for him to stay. But Izuku didn't have time to dwell on it.

"Get yourself home safe, please." Izuku abruptly uttered, before swinging off so suddenly it left Katsuki reeling. The sharp thwip of his web rang in Katsuki's ears.

. . .

Izuku soared through the city, the wind rushing past him as he let his body move on autopilot, following the unmistakable pull of his spider-sense. But his mind wasn’t nearly as focused as his movements.

Katsuki.

The rawness in his voice. That unguarded look in his eyes. That smile that threatened to consume Izuku whole.

Fuck.

He clenched his jaw, shaking his head as he pushed himself forward. He couldn't afford to get distracted, not now.

Not ever.

He honed in on the blaring sirens echoing through the busying city, his gaze sharp as it locked onto the distant flashing of blue and red lights.

Then, he saw it.

EndCorp.

Even from a distance, he could tell the situation was bad. The faint glow of emergency lights reflected against the towering glass windows of the building. And the front entrance was akin to a war zone — police barricades set up, officers shouting into radios, their faces tight with tension. And they looked to be facing off with a group of gunmen standing at the front of the building, their weapons trained on the police, keeping them at bay.

Shit.

This was bad, this was seriously bad.

And the wave of guilt and sudden hatred towards himself for getting so distracted with Kacchan, threatened to eat him up. How could he be so late to something this big? Expectations weighed heavy upon his shoulders and the high standards that he'd set for himself as Spiderman washed away all of his humanity in moments like this.

At least, in situations that involved his... personal life.

What if people are dead? What if I've already missed the brunt of whatever's happening? How could I be so negligent? But Katsuki... fuck.

Izuku swung himself to the rooftop, and his muscles tensed as he surveyed the chaos below. He didn't loom too far over the edge of the building so as to not alert the police or the attackers that he was there. But his senses were prickling everywhere, warning him of imminent danger, and it was growing increasingly difficult to ignore the way his skin pricked hot with it.

The way his heart was racing in his chest.

The police were outmatched, and forced into a standoff rather than an active confrontation. And inside was an entirely different story, one that he had no clear picture of. He leaned down to take a look at what he could through the glass windows of the top floor, slowly, but could only see late-night workers huddled in the corner, paralysed with fear.

But from what he could gather with the way there were so many gunmen lined up, this wasn’t just some random heist — this was a professional operation. Something Izuku barely ever dealt with, at least, not on a scale like this. This wasn't your typical bank robbery, or some convenience store being mugged, this was something else entirely.

What the hell could anybody want with EndCorp? Sure, they had some pretty high tech, and were making some groundbreaking feats in genetic modification — but Izuku found it hard to believe that anyone would go to these lengths for anything that could be found in there.

Right?

Besides, nobody knew it was where he'd gotten bitten by the spider, so what other reason could there possibly be?

How naive.

Izuku forced himself to think fast. He turned to the rooftop entrance and kicked the door open, watching as it flew off its hinges with a deafening clang against the brick wall it slammed against, causing him to stand still for a moment in utter stun. Then, he winced. Right. Super strength. It was amazing that he still somehow forgot about it sometimes.

But he didn't have time to be amused, with the sensation crawling up his neck that was steadily intensifying. He prayed he hadn't alerted the attackers with the bang.

Move.

He shot down the stairs, checking each floor as he passed. No bodies. No gunfire. Just terrified employees and the occasional overturned desk.
He raced down a few flights of stairs, still trying to piece together what was going on as he did. So, this wasn't a violent attack — and the mercenaries out front didn't even seem to be opening fire on the police, rather, holding them back with the mere fear and the possibility of such brutality. Still — it's not like it wasn't an active concern. He had no idea what their intentions were.

Things could turn dark, fast. And Izuku, no, Spiderman, had to stop it before it spiralled out of hand.

Right now, he had to let go of Izuku Midoriya.

Spiderman continued scanning the floors to see if he could figure out where the source of whatever was happening — but he only found overworked scientists who were clearly just having the worst days of their lives. He clamoured out a few comforting words such as, "I'll handle this, just stay put!", and similar, but still, he couldn't ignore the way his heart was palpitating out of his chest. And the way he worried about whether he could even handle this, whatever this was.

Door after door, Spiderman crept lower, descending each flight of stairs with careful precision, his steps silent despite his heart pounding like a drum in his chest. He pushed open another door and peeked through, this time spotting movement in the shadows of the completely dark building. They must've cut the lights when they came in, which made things all the more difficult.

There.

He saw them, and the tension in the air shifted. He ducked back behind a corner of a wall, his breathing slowing as he took in the scene. From his vantage point, he saw them, a group of figures clad in black darting around the room like shadows, each of them fumbling with gadgets and tools to break into various secure storage units. This was no smash-and-grab; it was methodical, and coordinated.

His stomach churned.

But one figure stood out from the rest.

A woman in all-black, with a skin-tight suit much like his own, was perched atop one of the tables, lazily fiddling with a knife in her gloved hands. Her blonde hair was messy and pulled into uneven buns on either side of her head, choppy bangs framing her face, and her mask covered the space around her eyes but left most of her features exposed. Those sharp, golden eyes felt like they could put him under a spell. But that playful grin she wore immediately set Izuku on edge.

This woman didn’t move like the others, who were focused and rigid and carefully manoeuvring the shadows. No, she looked like she was enjoying herself, her body relaxed, her posture practically teasing anyone who dared challenge her.

A vigilante? A hero? No… definitely not.

Spiderman frowned beneath his mask. This girl… she’s the one leading this robbery?

And then, his eyes widened as he caught sight of the person standing barely ten meters away from her.

Shoto Todoroki.

The realisation hit him like a truck. Shoto Todoroki — Enji Todoroki’s son, the literal heir to EndCorp, the boy who he’d watched give a speech just earlier that day. The same boy who, judging by his tense stance and the way he was glaring at the woman clad in black, was not supposed to be here either.

What the hell was he doing in the middle of all this?

Spiderman strained to hear the conversation, pressing himself flat against the wall as he edged closer.

“I’ve gotta admit, Todoroki,” the woman drawled, twirling her knife between her fingers like it was an extension of them. Her voice was smooth, and utterly teasing. “You’re a lot prettier in person, compared to all those glossy magazines. And you know... the whole moody, brooding model thing? It kinda works for you."

Shoto’s stare was ice, his expression unreadable but sharp enough to cut, “And you talk a lot for a thief.”

The woman gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to her chest. “Ouch. So cold.” Then, her lips curled into something wicked.

“I like it.”

Shoto didn’t so much as blink.

“Who are you, and what do you want?” His voice was even, but there was a bite to it — like he was seconds from sinking his teeth into the wrong answer. An answer he didn't want to hear.

Her grin widened, her weight shifting effortlessly as she stretched out across the table, all liquid confidence and casual audacity. “Black Cat, darling. And what do I want?” She twirled her knife before pointing it at him, like he was some rare thing she’d decided to play with. “Wouldn’t you like to know, ice prince?”

Shoto’s fingers flexed at his sides, his patience thinning. “You’re stalling.”

“Ooooh, perceptive too. But let’s be honest, sweet thing, I could dance circles around you all night, and you wouldn’t lay a hand on me.” Her golden eyes gleamed behind her mask, teasing. “Unless, of course, you wanted to.”

Shoto’s mouth twitched — not quite a smirk, but something dangerously close. “You’re mistaking me for someone who enjoys meaningless conversation.”

Black Cat tilted her head, intrigued. “Oh, baby, I promise, there’s nothing meaningless about me.”

Shoto exhaled slowly through his nose. “I’ll take your word for it.” Then, his voice dropped into something flatter, sharper. “Now stop wasting my time, you're messing around with things you don't have any business handling.”

Her laugh was soft, husky. “You really are daddy’s perfect little soldier, huh?” She leaned forward, eyes dancing over his figure almost seductively. “You wear the mask well. But tell me, does it ever slip? Just a little? Late at night, maybe? When no one’s looking?”

That seemed to strike a chord in Shoto, because his jaw tightened, but that cold expression didn’t waver. “I don’t entertain theatrics.”

“Shame.” Black Cat sighed dramatically, still spinning the knife between her fingers like an afterthought. “A face like yours deserves a little more… excitement.”

Shoto took a step forward, voice a degree colder. “You won’t leave this building with what you came for, whatever it is.”

“Oh, honey.” Her grin sharpened, her voice dipping into something silkier, something just shy of dangerous. “Your father’s little dirty work isn’t as untouchable as he likes to think. And neither are you.”
Shoto’s eyes darkened — but his brows furrowed into something that only appeared to be... confusion. And strangely, rage.

Spiderman watched as Shoto’s composure faltered, his hands twitching at his sides like he was three seconds away from lunging forward.

He’s about to do something stupid.

Before Shoto could think twice, Spiderman shot a web onto the ceiling and swung himself into the room, landing between Todoroki and Black Cat in one fluid motion.

“Alright,” Spidey quipped, stretching his arms like he’d just woken up from a nap. A cat nap, if you will. “Hate to interrupt the world’s weirdest first date, but I feel like this is about to turn into a murder scene.” Both Todoroki and Black Cat stared at him in surprise, the former blinking in sheer astonishment while the latter’s cat-like grin grew even wider.

“Well, lookie here,” she purred, tilting her head as she looked him up and down. “If it isn’t the infamous Spiderman! You’re even cuter than I imagined, Spidey, I'd love to see you out of that spandex.” She winked. Her voice was all silk and mischief. “And you look even better up close, too! Ever thought about ditching the mask? I bet you’ve got the prettiest little eyes.”

Spiderman sighed. “Yeah, and I’m sure you’d love to know.”

“Oh, I would.” She purred, all but prowling toward him. “I love a man who’s flexible in all the right places.”

Izuku tensed. “Uh-huh. And I love personal space, so let’s keep that in mind.”

She clicked her tongue. “Spoilsport", she retorted, standing rooted in place now.

Izuku froze for a split second, then shook his head. “Yeah, flattered, thanks, but no thanks. Now, we can talk this out like reasonable people, right? Just, tell your goons to stop messing around. Whatever you're looking for? I won't let you find it.” He pointed lazily to the figures still moving around in the darkness.

His tone and words spoke of his grave underestimation of this woman's true motives and capabilities. And, admittedly, he really wasn't making this situation any better.

Which, obviously pissed Todoroki off.

Royally.

Spiderman could practically feel his glare scorching through the side of his mask.

Black Cat hummed in dry amusement, “Reasonable? Where’s the fun in that?”

But all Spiderman did was huff in annoyance, shoulders relaxing, before quickly glancing over his shoulder at Shoto Todoroki and shooting out a brief, “You alright?” towards him.

Shoto’s jaw tightened, but he nodded, albeit not wanting to interact with him. “I didn’t need your help,” he muttered, though there was no heat in his words. God, what was it with pretty boys and being all self-righteous lately? However, Shoto was way more aloof about his head-strong nature. Not so in your face, like a certain someone he was becoming rather accustomed to the behaviours of.

But now was not the time to think of him.

“Right, because arguing with the cat burglar while she robs your dad’s company was going great.” Spiderman shot back, sass in his tone, before his focus shifted back to the masked woman who'd begun walking towards him again whilst he wasn't paying attention, and she stopped just out of arm’s reach. Her knife glinting in the light, along with what looked to be sharp retractable claws scratching along the base of it, like a taunt.

This was going to get messy.

"I don't like when people ignore me, baby," Black Cat murmured, her voice low and dripping with a mixture of lunacy and intimacy that Spiderman, no... Izuku, hadn't ever encountered before. And good riddance he hadn't.

This girl, something about her was... demented.

And the way she flirted so casually all whilst threatening him made his skin crawl all over. The way she called him 'baby', with her voice a velvety mix of amusement and something sharper. Darker. Honestly, terrified him.

And weirdly turned him on, but he wasn't going to acknowledge that. Clearly, she was just trying to distract him, but unfortunately Izuku's unresolved teenage hormones from years of being totally socially withdrawn threatened to bite him in the ass.

Though, this woman was far too scary, and stupid hormones would never rid of that fact. Not when another was plaguing his thoughts...

He just needed to focus, and he needed to, fast.

The world suddenly felt like it was moving in slow motion, and now she was striding again, slow and deliberate, her hips swaying languidly as though they weren’t just standing in the middle of a robbery. She started dancing infuriatingly slow circles around him, to which his head tilted almost automatically, his instincts on high alert as he studied her.

Watching her every move.

Every step, every sway of her hips.

And he was taking steps back to match the ones she was taking forward, but it wasn't enough. He was holding back on her. He could've just started the fight right there and then, and won...

Even she knew that.

But he didn't move.

Grave mistake.

Suddenly, a sharp, rhythmic beeping cut through the room, barely audible over the distant sounds of the police standoff outside.

But Spiderman heard it.

And his senses spiked — hard.

His gaze flicked toward the sound just as Black Cat’s smirk deepened, her gold eyes flashing with something knowing. Like she knew how much he hadn't been expecting this. How much he'd taken her for a non-threat.

Shit.

He fired a web, a sharp thwoop cutting through the air, aiming to pin her before she could do whatever it was she was planning. But in a single, fluid motion, she pulled a grappling hook from her belt, aimed it at the ceiling, and fired.

The mechanism engaged with a mechanical snap, yanking her skyward to the ceiling in almost an instant. And Spiderman watched, frustration curling in his chest as she twisted mid-air, her body moving with an almost feline elegance, dodging his web with an agonising grace.

And she barely even looked like she was trying.

Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.

But Spiderman barely had time to react from the ground and swing himself upward, because his senses screamed at him again.

The beeping.

He glanced toward Todoroki, seeing him still standing there watching the interaction half slack-jawed from the shock of this ordeal, but then Spiderman's gaze shifted back across the room — seeing the source of the device making the loudening beeping noise stuck against one of the far walls.

And there he caught it, a small, flashing red light mocking him from a distance.

An explosive.

Seriously?

And her fucking guys were already gone, like that entire sexually charged interaction had just been a distraction for something bigger. Something completely out of left field. How could he have not noticed? And could she be so goddamn good at distractions?

Though, maybe it was just Izuku being careless.

The beeping suddenly got louder.

Way, louder.

"Todoroki, get down!" Spiderman abruptly roared, before shooting a web as far as he could across the room — as he attempted to swing towards the bomb stuck to the brick to do whatever he could to disarm the explosion. He didn't know how big it'd be, or how powerful. But it didn't matter. It didn't seem like Black Cat and her goons were trying to kill anybody, but who knows what kind of damage could be done, or what their intentions were? She was far too unpredictable for him to guess.

And he couldn't afford guesses right now.

Because this was serious.

His underestimation had consequences, real consequences.

He just needed to move. He needed to help — he needed to be a hero, he needed to stop this. But within mere moments, just seconds away from reaching close enough to the wall to do something, anything...

BOOM!

The explosion ripped through the air. A deafening roar, followed by an ever-so-violent shockwave.

Heat licked at Spiderman's back as the force sent him hurtling mid-swing, his body twisting instinctively to brace for impact. The blast wasn’t massive — it was still controlled, precise even. Still, it was enough to shatter the nearest windows, sending shards of glass cascading enough to cut rips in the jade-coloured spandex of Spiderman's suit, leaving trickles of red running down his torso.

He was expecting the police to run in now, and do anything, anything to help. But, he knew better than to trust law enforcement anymore.

Izuku's ears rang beneath the mask.

His body tensed as he shot out another web, barely managing to snag onto an overhead panel to keep himself up before he could hit the ground harder than he would've without the momentum of his web. He swung wildly, dragging himself sideways before he tucked into a roll and landed hard against the floor, an unavoidable impact as his ribs slammed down to absorb most of the pain.

He was winded, sharply inhaling, gasping desperately for air as though he were drowning above water. But even through the thick haze of smoke, and the burning of his lungs as he struggled to slow his breathing, alongside the hot tickle of blood dripping down from small cuts, his senses screamed for him to move.

But he couldn't. Not yet... Not when it hurt so much. Not when all he wanted to do was curl over and keel in agony.

But...Todoroki.

His head snapped toward where the other man had been standing, his heart hammering against his ribs wildly. “Todoroki!” he called out, voice hoarse with desperation, already pushing his arms up to be somewhat off the ground as much as he could in that moment. The air reeked of burning insulation and debris, but as the dust settled, Spiderman caught a glimpse of movement.

Shoto Todoroki was on the ground, having been thrown several feet by the blast. He was propped up on one elbow, coughing hard, his once clean and sleek suit now streaked with soot and dust, but he was alive. “Fuckin' hell…” Shoto rasped, dragging a hand through his now messy dual-toned hair as he glared through the smoke like it had personally offended him. Which, it kind of had.

He scowled toward where he'd heard Spiderman's voice bellowing from, exhaling sharply, his lips pressing into a thin line before he let out, “You could’ve given me a little more warning!”

Spiderman groaned, rubbing his temple, ears still ringing as he moved to let himself drop to the ground for a little while longer, not wanting to strain his arms. Instead, he pushed himself to be on his side, ignoring the remnants of debris still atop him, unmoving. Though their weight was nothing he couldn't handle.

“Yeah, my bad. Next time I’ll send a formal invitation before the bomb goes off, your royal highness.” Even in moments of great distress, Spiderman just couldn't help himself. It just came naturally to him, even through the burn of his lungs.

Shoto pushed himself up fully, dusting himself off with a sharp huff, but before he could respond — a voice, smooth and mocking cut through the wreckage. “Now, now, boys,” Black Cat’s voice purred, her silhouette now standing where the blast had completely decimated a white brick wall, mere meters away from Spiderman. And behind her, behind all the wreckage, was what looked to be a dark room lined with computers, the only light from inside coming from green flashing lights and monitors.

And from what Spiderman could tell, it was some kind of laboratory or specialist room. Nothing that he'd ever seen before, at least not during his internship. And, it was far from what he'd expected to be what the villain was truly looking for.

"I hope I didn’t scare you too bad. But don't worry your pretty faces, I'll make this nice and quick, I promise!” She purred, stepping through the rubble into the room, dancing her fingers around metal cabinets and files. Annoyingly, she'd avoided the blast by being on the ceiling when it happened. She looked completely unharmed, besides a few stray hairs that had been whisked to lay even messier than they were beforehand.

But Shoto was completely stunned, and Spiderman could tell. His expression was different. Something unknowing was hidden behind it.

"What the hell is that room, how the hell do you know about somewhere here that I don't?" Shoto's voice grated, and he was yelling now, trudging up from the ground to stand straight. Spiderman did the same, albeit with his ribs screaming at him to stay down, but he stayed rooted and stood in place, letting Shoto do the talking.

The fact that Shoto didn't know what that room was, was certainly unnerving. Besides, he was the heir to his father's scientific and technological empire. Being an entrepreneur and model was his side deal, awaiting the day when he'd become something bigger. Surely he'd know everything that went on in EndCorp, right?

But if Black Cat had to blow the entire wall up just to get in there, it was hidden for a reason. And Shoto deserved to know that reason, of all people. And Spiderman needed to know too, just as much as Todoroki did, and if that meant standing back and watching for just a little while, he would.

Because she was both of their enemies now.

"Who the fuck are you?"

. . .

A crackling hiss of static buzzed in Black Cat's ear, followed by the low, scratchy drawl of a familiar voice, edged with the usual irritation she was used to hearing.

"At least one vial of the serum should be somewhere in that room. Dabi said you're in the right place — just keep looking, and keep those pests at arm’s length."

Black Cat barely listened, running a gloved finger along the cool metal of a filing cabinet as she hummed to herself. The lock was sturdy, but not invincible. She could crack it in seconds if she wanted to. But where was the fun in that?

"And I don’t care if you have to squash that fucking bug, but leave the brat alone. He clearly knows nothing."

She clicked her tongue, her golden eyes flicking toward Shoto, who was still watching her with barely restrained fury. His chest rose and fell in sharp, controlled breaths, and his fingers twitched at his sides, itching for a fight.

He was so fun to rile up.

Like a pretty little porcelain doll, perfectly sculpted, but oh-so-close to shattering.

And poor little Spiderboy had barely trudged himself off the ground, poor sweet thing. Standing there holding his arm, all weak like that. It was pitiful!

Her lips curled into a sharp, teasing smile as she lifted a hand to her ear, tapping at the comm. “Awh, but I was really starting to like him,” she purred, tilting her head as if considering. “Can’t we keep him, boss?” She spoke with a sharp exhale. The distinct sound of nails dragging across a metal surface grating on both boy's ears.

Spiderman stilled at her words, eyes wide beneath the mask.

"Shut the hell up and keep looking. Our guys out front don’t have much time left before the police storm now that the bomb's gone off, they're worried about casualties. In and out. Stop playing around, Toga."

Himiko rolled her eyes, letting out a dramatic sigh, but the smirk never left her face. “Aye aye, captain. No need to get all grumpy on me.”

Shoto was livid.

And Spiderman knew, there was clearly more to this robbery that he couldn't even begin to fathom. And it looked like Shoto couldn't either, which was ... disturbing to say the least. He figured he'd at least somewhat understand what was happening throughout this, but no.

He was clearly at just as much of a loss as Spiderman was.

Shoto's breath was heavy, and his glare was so sharp it could cut steel. His entire posture screamed controlled rage, and Spiderman could see the muscles in his arms tensing, fingers twitching as if he were moments away from snapping entirely.

“Answer me.” His voice was low, and controlled, but the fire beneath it was unmistakable. “What the hell is this place, and who are you talking to?”

Black Cat barely spared him a glance. “Oh, Todoroki,” she sighed, tilting her head as she picked up a stray folder, flipping through the pages with a lazy sort of interest. “For someone with your last name, you really don’t know anything, do you?” She reached for her knife, flipping it idly in her palm before driving the tip into the lock of a nearby drawer, twisting with just the right amount of force to break it open.

A satisfying snap echoed through the lab.

Shoto took long strides forward across the lab, weaving through rubble and now broken gadgets, his tone ever-so venomous. “You’re about to find out just how much I know.”

Spiderman's thoughts were incoherent. He wanted to stay there and watch, not stepping in just so he could see if the blonde would unveil all the secrets herself from pure intimidation alone. But he knew when the time was right, and his lungs didn't feel so heavy, he'd move.

This fight... didn't seem to be his.

Toga giggled, sharp and lilting. “Ooooh, scary! Do you glare at all your problems like that, pretty boy?” She flicked her golden gaze up to meet his from across the lab as he stormed towards her, all challenge. “Does it ever actually work?”

Izuku could practically hear Shoto’s teeth grinding.

“Not in the mood for banter? Shame.” Her eyes gleamed as she rifled through the contents, fingers ghosting over vials and scattered documents. The jackpot was here somewhere. And if Shigaraki was getting antsy, that meant it was time to stop playing and get serious.

Well. Mostly serious.

Because winding up the rich boy and her now favourite bug was just too much fun to resist!

Toga sighed dramatically, tossing a folder over her shoulder, and letting some papers flutter uselessly to the ground. “I’ll make it simple for you then, ice prince. This place?” She twirled her knife between her fingers, the dim glow of the room catching the blade’s edge.

“Your father’s dirty little secret.”

Shoto stilled at the gap where the wall had been blown, staring wide-eyed at the thief mere metres away from him now.

Izuku felt his stomach drop.

Enji Todoroki... one of his idols. Somebody he'd adored for years now, was hiding some kind of corruption in EndCorp? The kind that not even his own treasured son knew about?

Black Cat just grinned with those sharp fangs of hers, revelling in the tension, in the way Shoto’s expression momentarily cracked, the way his hands curled into fists so tightly at his sides.

“Awh, did I touch a nerve?” she cooed, sauntering up to him, close enough that Spiderman was about to web her back. But she only pressed a gloved finger to his chest and whispered, “You should ask daddy about this place sometime.”

Shoto snapped, and his hand shot up, grabbing her wrist before suddenly yanking her close.

Spiderman tensed, his body instinctively shifting to move despite the lingering ache in his ribs from the explosion. His instincts screamed at him to step in, to do something, but a part of him hesitated. This wasn’t his fight.

Not yet.

Not when he needed so many more answers himself.

Shoto’s grip was tight, fingers digging into the leather of Black Cat’s glove as he yanked her closer, his mismatched eyes burning with something raw and dangerous.

Fury.

“Who the hell do you think you are, coming in here like the thief that you are and claiming corruption, like a fucking hypocrite.” His voice was lower now, quieter — but somehow, that made it even deadlier.

Black Cat barely reacted. If anything, she seemed to enjoy it, her lips curling into a slow, delighted smile. “Mm,” she hummed, tilting her head like she was inspecting him. “So there is some fire in you after all. You remind me of him, you know. I see him in you, freaks me out honestly!” She giggled as she leaned in, deliberately closing the space between them, and Spiderman took a step forward automatically, heart hammering.

She was taunting him. Pushing him. And Shoto was already too close to the edge.

“Careful, sweetheart,” she whispered, her voice dripping with amusement, her golden eyes glinting with something unhinged. “Hold me any tighter, and I might just think that you like me, underneath all your angst.”

Shoto’s jaw clenched.

And his grip tightened.

Spiderman saw the shift in his posture, the way his shoulders squared, the way his stance tensed like a coil ready to snap.

He was one second away from making the wrong move, and getting stabbed in the abdomen. Or at least, Spiderman thought so. So, he moved on instinct with a flick of his wrist, a web shooting out, latching onto Shoto’s forearm before yanking it back just enough to loosen his grip.

“That’s enough.” Spiderman’s voice was firm, cutting through the haze of tension like a blade.

Shoto snapped his head towards him, eyes narrowing as the rise and fall of his chest quickened. “Stay out of this.”

“No.” Spiderman's response was immediate. Final.

"I've had enough of watching you two dancing around whatever truth is being avoided here, because this?" he pointed between them languidly, "is doing absolutely fucking nothing." The hero's tone was dry, and absolute. Unwavering.

And Shoto, admittedly, got the point.

Toga snickered, stepping back as she rubbed her wrist, entirely unbothered albeit a sting.

“Aww, how sweet. Bug boy to the rescue.” She threw a wink at Spiderman, voice dropping into a purr. “Protecting your little boyfriend already?”

Spiderman exhaled sharply, trying to ignore the way heat threatened to creep up his neck underneath the mask, but irritation burned deep in his stomach at her words. “Shut the fuck up.”

Shoto, meanwhile, was still glaring, his stance rigid. “She knows something,” he gritted out. “And she’s not leaving until she—”

“—Until she what?” Black Cat interrupted, her tone light, teasing. “Sits down for a cup of tea and spills all of EndCorp’s dirty little secrets to his little unknowing pawn?”

Shoto didn’t move, didn’t blink.

"If that’s what it takes.”

Toga laughed. Loud and delighted, like he’d just said the funniest thing in the world. “God, you’re so serious. It’s adorable, really.” She wiped at her eye, as if pretending to dab away a fake tear, then suddenly, her demeanour shifted. The amusement was still there, but there was something else lurking beneath it.

Something cold.

“You’re cute, Todoroki. But you really have no idea what you’re dealing with, do you?” She took a step back, her fingers brushing behind her to take a small vial of something Izuku didn't recognise. The dark green liquid within the glass gleaming at the two of them, tauntingly. “You think your dad tells you anything, darling?”

Shoto stiffened, his lips pressing into a thin line.

Spiderman saw it then.

The flicker of doubt.

Black Cat grinned. “That’s what I thought.”

And then she moved.

Fast.

Faster than Spiderman had the time to react to, faster than he could shoot a web to stop her from leaving with exactly what she'd sought out to get from breaking into EndCorp in the first place.

But honestly, Spiderman was torn. For the first time in a long time.

Because what if she was telling the truth?

What if this seriously was just an attempt at battling some deep-rooted corruption that neither he nor Shoto Todoroki himself understood.

Her arm snapped up, and before either of them could react, she tossed a small metal canister to the floor. Smoke erupted instantly, thick and suffocating, clouding the lab in an artificial fog.

Izuku’s senses flared, warning him before he could even think to react.

“Shit—”

He lunged forward, grabbing onto Shoto’s arm and yanking him back as the room filled with smoke, vision obscured in an instant. His lungs burned as he coughed against the haze, his grip firm against Shoto's arm, stopping him from running into where he wouldn't be able to see.

“She’s getting away!” Shoto yelled out, pent-up frustration laced into his voice. Frustration that spoke of so much more hidden beneath the surface. So much more that had been building for a long time.

“No kidding.” Spiderman's voice was tight, his mind racing. His eyes darted through the thick smog, trying to track her movement, but she was already slipping through the gaps like she hadn't even been there in the first place.

And then, through the haze, a final taunt rang out, voice lilting and melodic.

“Thanks for the dance, boys! Let's do this again sometime!” She giggled from a distance, her voice echoing through the decimated lab, just as teasing as you'd expect from her. "And Shoto, we'll be waiting for you, sweetheart," Were her final words. Followed by a loud zipping noise, likely the sound of her grappling hook.

Who the hell was the "we" she was talking about?

And just like that, she was gone.

. . .

Shoto tried to rip his arm away, struggling and panting wildly as the smoke died down. But she was already gone — still, it wasn't too late, right?

Right?

Shoto thrashed against Spiderman’s grip, every muscle in his body coiled tight with desperation. His breath came up in ragged, sharp bursts, his chest rising and falling desperately as he fought against the restraint holding him down so easily.

He hated being held back.

"Let me go!" he snarled, voice raw with something that sounded dangerously close to helplessness. His fingers clawed at Spiderman’s arm, struggling with wild and uncalculated despair.

“Let me go, damn it! I have to— I have to—!”

Shoto was strong, but Spiderman was stronger.

He could feel the way Shoto’s body trembled against the hold on his arm, not from fear, but from the sheer, overwhelming frustration that was now bubbling over. His limbs were shaking, his entire frame vibrating with the weight of everything, everything, that he’d just learned, everything he still didn’t know, and everything that had just slipped through his fingers.

“She’s gone, Todoroki.” Spiderman’s voice was softer now, steadier. But his grip didn’t falter. “You can’t chase something that isn’t there.”

“You... You don’t get it,” Shoto gasped, his breath hitching, his hands curling into fists as his struggles weakened. “She knows something. She, she has answers! And now she’s— she’s just—” His voice cracked.

Spiderman swallowed, seeing the way Shoto’s movements became limp, the way his weight relaxed just a little, like his body had finally registered the reality of what his mind had refused to accept.

She was gone.

And whatever secrets she had taken with her, whatever truth she had hinted at, was now out of their reach. Along with a vial of green liquid.

Out of Shoto's reach.

Spiderman let out a breath he hadn't even realised he’d been holding. And without thinking, he adjusted his grip, his arms shifting to wrap around Shoto properly from behind. It wasn’t a calculated move, it was instinct. A stabilising force on the other man as the weight of the moment crashed down upon him.

Shoto didn’t resist.

Though, he wanted to.

His breaths came in short, shuddering gasps, but his body had finally stopped fighting. Spiderman just held him there, grounding him, feeling the tremors in his frame slowly settle beneath him.

And for a long moment, neither of them moved.

The lab was a wreck, smoke still lingering in the air, debris scattered across the floor. The remnants of the explosion, the shattered security of EndCorp, and the lingering sting of defeat all hung heavy around the pair.

Finally, when Shoto’s breathing had evened out just enough, Spiderman loosened his hold.

That was a mistake.

The moment Spiderman's arms fell away, Shoto twisted himself free and smacked Spiderman's arm away from him, the sharp sound of skin against fabric cutting through the silence.

“Why didn’t you do anything?” Shoto’s voice was hoarse, his eyes burning with an intensity that made Spiderman’s stomach twist. His own fingers curling into fists at his sides now.

“Why did you just stand there?”

Spiderman stared at him, feeling the weight of the accusation press against his ribs.

Shoto’s hands were trembling, and his frame still vibrated with adrenaline and something that looked an awful lot like anger. But there was something else there too.

Something that looked only to be... betrayal.

“Is this what you do?” Shoto’s voice dropped lower now, edged with something dangerously sharp. “You watch while people get away? You let them escape when you have the power to stop them?” His voice cracked, but it didn’t lose its venom.

“Are you always this fucking useless, Spiderman?”

Spiderman felt something hot coil in his stomach at the harsh words, feeling the wave of unbridled shame washing over him and consuming him whole.

He had been injured.

He had been processing.

He had been watching, yes, but not in inaction.

Not in fear, not in hesitation.

He had been calculating, waiting, hoping that maybe, maybe it would all start to make sense on its own. And that maybe, for once, someone else could hold their own and it wouldn't all be on him. That all this responsibility wouldn't just be all on him.

That maybe, for once, for one fucking time, he could just hope for something better. Hope for a reality where he wasn't so fucking... useless.

But no, none of that mattered now. Not when Shoto was looking at him like this. With nothing but pure disappointment and anguish. Sure, maybe, misdirected... but he had a point.

He could've done more.

Izuku could've done more.

"I'm... I'm sorry, Todoroki." Spiderman took a few steps back, feeling gutted by being told he hadn't helped, which only made him feel like all of this had been for nothing. Like being Spiderman, was all for nothing.

"Truly, I didn't... I wasn't thinking. I was confused, I didn't understand what she was implying about your father, and I —... I didn't know what to do." Izuku admitted, his voice softer now, battling with restrained emotion that threatened to totally consume him.

"You're right." He took another few steps back, his eyes clinging to the rubbled ground — unable to look up and face Shoto's expression. Unable to face the disappointment.

"I could've done more."

And with that admission, he turned — his sights set on at least doing something useful. Helping civilians out of the building, or confronting the situation out front. But as he began to take a step forward to leave, his forearm was grabbed.

Firmly, grabbed.

"I'm sorry, Spiderman." Shoto's voice trembled, the weight of his apology washing over the masked hero. "I didn't... I wasn't thinking either. There's a lot that I don't understand too, and I have a bit of a habit of lashing out when I don't know how to control my emotions..." he paused, glancing away with that glassy look in his dual-toned eyes.

"My father, he... he's not a good man. I've known this for quite some time. And I was so desperate for answers because... every time I think I've gotten close enough that I might just be able to understand what's truly going on, it's ripped away from me." His grip loosened, but Spiderman didn't move. Didn't falter.

He just... listened.

"Just like today, when I was so... so fucking close." Todoroki was breaking again, his voice hoarsened with a heartache that felt palpable in the air surrounding the two of them. "I just, I just need answers. I need to understand what I'm missing — and I need to know if my brother is truly dead like I've been told. Because I cannot rest another day, knowing that there's more going on beneath my nose that I can't stop. That I can't fight."

Spiderman stood frozen in place, Shoto’s grip still loosely banding his forearm, the weight of his words hanging thick in the air between them.

My brother.

That part hit Izuku the hardest.

From what he was aware of, Touya Todoroki had disappeared from the limelight many years ago now. People speculated he wasn't interested in being a part of his father's company, or that he just wasn't interested in the watchful eyes of the media. Which — was certainly understandable. But... dead?

He'd always known about the Todoroki family’s strained history, of course— anyone who paid even the slightest attention to the media did. But Enji Todoroki was always painted to be a good father, a good man, and a damn good scientist. But Izuku was learning, that this cold and ruthless CEO of EndCorp, had plenty more of a personality up his sleeve.

And plenty more secrets to hide.

And this?

This was different.

This wasn’t some corporate scandal, some distant piece of gossip to be debated on news channels. This was real. And it was tearing Shoto apart from the inside out, in a way that Izuku just couldn't understand yet.

He swallowed, his throat dry as he began, “I don’t know what happened to your brother,” Spiderman admitted, his voice quiet now, void of all the usual bravado he kept up around others. Right now, Izuku Midoriya was slipping through the cracks. “But I think... you deserve to.”

Shoto let out a shaky breath, his fingers finally slipping away from Spiderman's arm. His hands curled back into fists at his sides, like he needed to hold onto something, anything, to keep himself from completely unravelling before him.

Izuku hesitated for only a second before placing a gloved hand on his shoulder.

And this time, Shoto didn’t knock it away.

“We’ll figure it out,” Spiderman promised, firm now, more certain than before. Because for all his shortcomings, for all the ways he’d messed up tonight, he wasn’t about to let someone else drown in the same sea of helplessness that he did every day.

He wasn't about to let someone else feel useless in the same way he did.

Shoto exhaled harshly, closing his eyes for a brief moment before nodding. He still looked like he was aching, but there was something steadier in his stance now, something more controlled. And that sentiment itself calmed Izuku.

“…Right.” Shoto's voice was quieter now, more level. “Right,” he repeated with a nod.

Spiderman gave his shoulder one last squeeze before finally stepping back, his senses tuning back into the chaos still raging beyond the lab. The distant shouts of police officers. The alarms still blaring distantly.

There was still work to do.

And he had no time to be useless anymore.

. . .

Chapter notes:
[I'm back with a bang! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, I know the wait was long (I am a very overworked college student who's literally had no free time lately, very sad!).

I've been intermittently working on this when I've had the time, and I'll likely have to continue doing the same, so I'm sorry if it's a while between chapters but I'll do what I can, just stay tuned, there's plenty more to come! I know how it feels to be waiting on a fic all too well, LOL. But I'm really thankful for the support I've received, and for the readers who I recognise as being re-occurring, I'm so happy that I'm able to entertain people with my silly little story and that people are sticking around, it's so awesome! I cannot thank you enough for it.

This chapter has set the stage for more of the deeper plot that is to come. I have so many ideas and I am itching to spill em' all out but I'll contain myself... for now. Apologies that there's not much BKDK in this one... but god, I'm really loving angsty little Todoroki hehe. Until next time! ]