catsukiiiii

[catsukiiiii]

wanting and needing were two completely separate things. one of them was painfully obvious to everyone else, but pushed to the back of the mind by the one with the necessity. the other was an ache that was actually chased after, sought out and cherished the moment it was there; wanted.

yet izuku felt like both to katsuki. a want and a need.

when katsuki was succumbing to his overwhelming turbulent of emotions, sometimes izuku found him. sat down beside him and, without katsuki’s permission, comforted him. he hated that, at times like that, izuku felt like the only person who could make things feel better.

and then, when izuku left ua, his absence was loud. a constant ringing noise that got louder every second they couldn’t find him. and katsuki craved to be near him again, feel the hands—calloused from training—and lean into the warmth, just one more time.

to the point he couldn’t fall asleep properly, his thoughts screaming at him how, no matter what, it was always izuku. only izuku who could help him and nurse him and soothe the tension from his body.

he wasn’t sure when it had turned to this. he remembered, clearly, when it was izuku trotting after katsuki, trying to hurry up to be by his side. yet now, it was right in their faces that it was katsuki chasing after him, clinging onto his apologies and struggling to express them. that, even though katsuki was supposed to do it alone, izuku still coaxed him through it.

izuku wanted katsuki, and that was all.

but katsuki needed him. he was nothing without the same boy he’d loathed for years.

wanting and needing were vastly different things.

[catsukiiiii]

everybody said it was good to open up, to let your emotions spill out. yet katsuki disagrees with that more than anything. vulnerability has no place in the line of hero work. allowing emotions only means letting down the dam that's holding you up, that's allowing you to keep going. without it, the floodgates open and suddenly you're flooding and drowning and dying. there is no point in opening up. the few times he's tried, katsuki has ended up curled in on himself, shaking, struggling, wishing crying was never a thing. what is the point of letting your enemies in? what is the point of granting their ticket way through to fucking everything up? if katsuki cries, if he speaks, if he lets himself feel everything he's bottled up, the outcome was more likely to be bad than anything. how could he possibly even think about it? some people are luckier. some people can do that, and they would be alright. it wouldn't break them, it wouldn't make them dissolve into a useless, stupid mess. unlike katsuki. somehow, no matter what anyone says, he can never go through with it. and maybe, in that one, sole way, he is a coward. he is scared. of what he might become if he submits to pressure.

[catsukiiiii]

Katsuki was different under the moonlight. Standing in front of his window, watching, or waiting. The curtains had been drawn open, allowing the night sky to silhouette his form. He reacted vaguely at Shoto's presence, shifting. There was nothing said, nothing done, except the silent permission to join Katsuki. Which was what Shoto did, padding into the room with the door closed behind him. It was neat inside, so unlike Katsuki's chaotic personality. But it seemed to fit. And Shoto liked it, letting himself sink into the comforting sense of the dorm. He paused beside Katsuki, turning to look at him. The light fell over his face, casting a sort of dreamy look in the minimal lighting of the night. His bangs cast shadows over his eyes, but Katsuki looked calm. He tilted his head towards Shoto, raising an eyebrow and inviting him to move closer. When he did, Katsuki slung an arm over his shoulder so that they were squished together. At Shoto's surprised "oh," Katsuki smirked, cocking his head towards him without a word. He really was different under the moonlight.

[catsukiiiii]

Katsuki had never been anything but ‘Kacchan.’ In turn, Izuku had never been anything more than ‘Deku.’ But the person before Katsuki was someone else. Detached from the boy he had grown to know as Deku. Beaten and bruised and tired. A body that only just existed. And, somehow, despite a decade of shouting and cursing and gasping, ‘Deku’ was the last thing on either mind. Instead, when Katsuki’s mouth opened, a different name rolled off his tongue. A soft, uncharacteristic apology. Slipping out into the air and towards the boy who was anyone and himself and nobody all at once.

“Izuku.”

He was sorry. They were both sorry. Izuku and Katsuki. Deku and Kacchan. Two little boys on an adventure that might never end.

[catsukiiiii]

it felt surreal, sometimes. often, really. like a dream. yes, kacchan was different now. he wasn't like before. yet, in the smallest crevices of izuku's mind, he wondered. if kacchan might go back to how he was before. it was ridiculous, he knew. kacchan, though he'd never outright said it, made sure it was clear he hated how he used to be. but it didn't stop the near-crushing relief when the sweet, concrete sound of izuku's name slipped so easily from kacchan's lips.

"izuku," he would say. and he would add it to a sentence, a question, an order. he barely paid attention to the name itself, because it was never the sole focus in what he needed. still, izuku couldn't help but zoom into it, forget the rest and let the word echo in his mind. because it was kacchan who had said it. not his mother—not kacchan's mother—not a classmate, or a friend, or someone entirely other. it was kacchan. and it was real.