Chapter Text
"Uh, so, you can stay here," Katsuki says, leading Izuku through his hall and towards his spare room. It's sparsely decorated, and Izuku looks unimpressed.
"I have some of your things in storage," Katsuki continues. "We can go look at it and see if there's anything that stands out to you."
Izuku takes a step into the room and looks around. There's an All Might Golden Age poster on the wall that his eyes linger on.
"You kept my stuff," he says. Katsuki has noticed that he's started posing questions as statements, like he already knows the answer.
Katsuki nods. "Yeah," he says. "I kept all your stuff."
Awkwardness settles in among them. Katsuki doesn't know what to do or say, or how to act in this situation. He doesn't know who this Izuku is. The one thing the two of them had never been was awkward; Katsuki doesn't know what to do with it.
He'd said yes. Of course he'd said yes to lzuku's request to stay with him. He'd said yes immediately, much to the concern of the doctor, who had taken Katsuki back behind the mirror to discuss.
"Bakugou-san—”
"He wants to stay with me," Katsuki said. "So let him."
"We cannot guarantee your safety. Izuku still feels a lot of anger towards you, and you heard him admit he still cannot tell the real memories from the fake. Having him with you—"
"I know," Katsuki said. "I know everything you're saying, okay? I know it's dangerous. I know there's no guaranteeing my safety. I know he might hurt me. I don't care. He said he wants to stay with me."
The doctor looked at Inko. "What are your thoughts on the matter, Mrs. Midoriya?"
Inko sighed and clutched her purse to her chest. "I won't deny I would rather him stay with me. But the past five years have seen Izuku robbed of all his agency. If he wants to stay with Katsuki, I think we should listen to what he wants."
Katsuki felt relief spread through him at having Inko on his side. Faced with the two most important people in Izuku's life siding with him, the doctor had no choice but to release Izuku into Katsuki's care.
And now they're here, and everything is awkward and different, and at the end of the day he still might be murdered in his sleep.
Despite himself, Katsuki smiles. Like he told the doctor, he doesn't care about his safety. All that matters is that Izuku is here with him. Besides, he can hold his own in a fight.
"It's in a storage unit," Katsuki continues, fighting to keep his voice even. Why is he even getting emotional? How stupid. "Do you want to see it?"
Izuku nods. They'll have to go tomorrow; it's too late now.
Izuku's eyes catch on an All Might poster once again, but he doesn't say anything. His eyes cut away from it, like he's unable to look. Katsuki wants to say so much, but he doesn't know what. He doesn't know what's allowed anymore.
He'd thought having Izuku here would be better after so long of watching him from behind glass, but it's finally, really hitting him that this is a stranger. He doesn't know who this Izuku is.
He's going to find out.
He wakes up that night to a pressure on his chest. He immediately recognizes it as Izuku, who is perched atop him.
"I was certain you'd have some sort of protection," lzuku says. "But you really don't. You let me stay here and you didn't take any precautions. Why?”
Katsuki opens his eyes to see the dim outline of Izuku in the moonlight coming in through the curtains. A glint in his hand says there’s a knife there, but Izuku doesn’t make any threatening moves, instead spinning the knife around his fingers as he continues to look down at Katsuki.
“If you wanted to kill me, you’d have done it by now.”
“Maybe that’s why I’m here.”
Katsuki shakes his head. In the back of his mind he’s aware that he’s sleeping naked.
“You’d have done it by now,” he says again.
Izuku bares his teeth. “Maybe I wanted to see you scared.”
Katsuki can’t help the lazy grin that spreads across his face. “Nah.”
He wishes he could better make out Izuku’s features, if he’s surprised or not. His voice is carefully neutral when he says, “You seem sure of yourself.”
“I am,” Katsuki says. “Shigaraki couldn’t make you cruel. If you were going to kill me you’d have done it already.”
“You’re willing to bet your life on that? I was created to kill you.”
Katsuki grits his teeth. “You were created twenty five years ago when your useless dad jizzed in your mom. You weren’t created to kill me. You would have done it by now.”
His eyes have adjusted to the dark; Izuku keeps heavy eye contact as his metal hand comes up to wrap loosely around Katsuki’s throat. He doesn’t flinch away.
“You’re an idiot,” Izuku says, but he pulls his hand away from Katsuki’s throat, and a tiny bit of tension eases out of the set of his shoulders.
“I’m a fucking genius,” Katsuki replies.
Izuku says, “The time you threatened all the kids in class not to team up with me for a class project, so I had to do it alone?”
Katsuki swallows against the self-hatred. “True.”
“When you locked me in a chest and left me overnight after poking holes in the top so I could breathe?”
Katsuki shakes his head. “Not real.”
Izuku considers this, still sitting on Katsuki’s lap. “They made you more violent,” he says. “In my memories.”
“I ain’t gonna pretend I wasn’t an ass,” Katsuki says. “But I wasn’t as physical as they wanted you to think.”
Izuku’s eyes are dark, and not just because the lights are off. “And do you think that makes it okay?”
Katsuki thinks before he answers. He’s not going to pretend that he hasn’t fought back the self-hatred over the years by telling himself he could have been worse towards Izuku, that he could have gotten more violent, that he hadn’t hurt him as badly as he could have. But he knows the scars he left aren’t all visible, and it’s little comfort that Shigaraki had to up the ante of the bullying to convince Izuku that Katsuki was a fraud. He still did it.
“No,” he says.
“I’m trying to decide who you are,” Izuku says. “You’re not who they told me you were.”
“Fuck what they told you,” Katsuki says. “You know me. You know me better than anyone.”
Izuku looks suddenly sad. “Maybe once,” he says—and then he scrambles off of Katsuki’s lap, says, “Goodnight,” and leaves as suddenly as he’d showed up, leaving Katsuki to wonder what the hell just happened and whether it was good or not.
He waits, the next morning, for Izuku to bring it up, but he never does. He doesn’t bring it up on the way to the storage unit, or while they’re standing among all his old things. He doesn’t bring it up at all.
Being in the storage unit is strange. Being in the storage unit with Izuku is even stranger. He looks around at his things, at the things he’d acquired over the years. It isn’t a very big storage unit, and most of it is All Might memorabilia, but there’s some other stuff in there as well, a few pieces of furniture and a lot of photos.
Izuku isn't saying anything, so Katsuki breaks the silence. "Anything sparking anything?"
He's not expecting the grief in Izuku's voice when he finally speaks. "When did he die?" he asks, and Katsuki realizes that most of the memories locked away in this unit won't remind Izuku of them.
It will remind him of All Might.
"A year ago," Katsuki answers quietly. Izuku is staring at nothing in particular, eyes unfocused. Lost in memories. Katsuki should be happy that Izuku is remembering things, but he knows these memories are going to be painful, the same choking grief that envelops Katsuki when he thinks of All Might, except much worse. Katsuki had been able to be there, at least.
"A year," Izuku says, and Katsuki sees tears in his eyes. If only All Might had held on a little longer; if only Shigaraki had set lzuku loose a little earlier. It's a tragedy that Izuku is here in front of him and All Might will never know.
"I told you about One for All," Izuku says suddenly. "Before anyone else. True?"
Katsuki nods. lzuku says, "Why?”
"You didn't want me to think you'd been lying to me for all those years. That you really had been quirkless."
Izuku asks it again: "Why?"
Katsuki had asked himself that very question as he stood there crying that day. Why? Why was the nerd telling him? And why did he care so much?
"Because," Katsuki tells him. "Even when you were supposed to hate me, you never did."
They don't take much from the storage locker; Izuku doesn't seem eager to relive the pain that came from All Might's death, which means for now most of the merch stays behind. They grab some pictures, as well as what Katsuki had termed 'the ugly lamp,' a lamp so god awful he has no idea how it was mass produced. Izuku had found it at a thrift shop and fallen in love with it, and Katsuki had caved and let him because he was, as Kaminari had said, fucking whipped.
Izuku sees the lamp shoved into a corner and immediately latches on to it. Katsuki doesn't know if he should laugh or cry at the way Izuku’s love for this hideous lamp was apparently an immutable fact of his personality. But they take it home; Katsuki would deny Izuku nothing.
“Okay, what about this? Do you remember anything from this?” The picture on the screen changes, and it shows Izuku and Iida, who are both covered in various multicoloured birds. Izuku’s lips quirk up slightly.
“We went to the zoo,” he says, and Shouto smiles.
“That’s right,” he says. He swipes to the next picture, and the projection on their television changes to match.
Shouto had, long ago, decided he was going to be the photographer of the group. He wanted the good memories; Katsuki understood that. And now that meant that Shouto had an ample amount of pictures of pretty much everybody, but especially the three of them, Shouto and Izuku and Katsuki.
The next picture is of Shouto and Izuku, taken from a selfie angle by Shouto; he is giving the camera that thousand yard stare of his, but Izuku is grinning and holding up a peace sign, one arm around Shouto’s neck.
“This was…” Izuku says. “This was Momo’s birthday party.” He turns to Katsuki, then, and says, “You didn’t come.”
“I was working,” Katsuki says, pleased at the progress they’re making.
Izuku’s memories are steadily returning, but there’s still a block between him and Katsuki that he doesn’t know what to do with. He has no fears about Izuku’s level of violence towards him; he’s shown no signs of wanting to kill Katsuki anymore.
But now things are awkward. Neither of them seem to know what they are, anymore, or how to exist around the other. The only thing either of them seem certain about is that they need to be around each other. Katsuki took advantage of five years of working his ass off by taking all his PTO at once, leaving lots of time to hang around awkwardly in the same room as his ex-boyfriend. Is that what they were? Well, he can’t exactly call him his boyfriend anymore.
He does take comfort in the fact that even if Izuku does seem wary of him still, he clearly wants to be around him.
They continue to go through pictures until Shouto has to leave, and then it’s just the two of them and the hulking awkwardness between them. Katsuki stands there for a moment, rocking from foot to foot, before he finally breaks and says, “I’ll make dinner.”
“Oh!” Izuku says, like he’s just remembered something. “Do we have the ingredients for Katsudon?”
Katsuki has made Katsudon a few times, and each time Izuku has reacted favourably, but this is the first time he’s actually asked. Heart in his throat, Katsuki nods. He doesn’t trust himself to speak; he thinks his voice might shake.
It’s the way Izuku had said we.
Katsuki disappears into the kitchen, lightness in his heart.
Sometime over the past five years, Katsuki stopped dreaming quietly.
He used to be able to stomach his nightmares, to wake with a start but to show no other signs, no screaming or crying or even heaving breath. He dealt with his nightmares by himself.
But something about sleeping alone for five years had changed him, and now his nightmares leave their mark.
He wakes up with a shout, heart threatening to beat out of his chest. He presses a fist at his chest and tries to steady his breathing, sweat pouring down his face. He leans over to turn on his side lamp.
His door opens.
Izuku comes in hesitantly, like he isn’t sure if he should, but Katsuki doesn’t say anything about it, not even when he comes up and sits on Katsuki’s bed across from him. Izuku settles in and then says, carefully, “Are you okay?”
Katsuki exhales through his nose and nods. “You heard me?” He asks, none too happily. Izuku nods.
“Were you having a nightmare?” He asks, and Katsuki reluctantly nods. He never used to bother Izuku with his nightmares. He would go on sleeping while Katsuki would track his face and his body and make sure he was alive and well, until his heart rate calmed down enough for him to go back to sleep.
Now Izuku is here, and he doesn’t know what to do.
“Do you… want to talk about it?”
Katsuki scrubs a hand across his face and says, “It wasn’t a nightmare, it was a memory.”
“Oh.” Izuku seems to pick up on his meaning. “About me?”
Katsuki nods again. “The funeral.”
Izuku says, “I’m sorry.” Katsuki shoots him a look.
“Oi. The fuck are you apologizing for? None of this was your fault.”
But Izuku shakes his head. “I think…” His eyes fill with tears suddenly, and Katsuki has to bite his lip not to reach out. “I think I was upset,” Izuku says. “I think I was upset because you didn’t come to save me, and I think that helped the brainwashing.” His voice is weak and quiet and ashamed, and Katsuki feels shame and hatred and pain burn through his chest.
“That’s not your fault,” he says, fighting to keep his voice steady. “That’s my fault, Izuku.”
“No, it’s—”
“I should have saved you,” Katsuki says firmly. “I shouldn’t have stopped until I did.”
“You thought I was dead,” Izuku points out.
“I should have known better,” Katsuki says. “I should have known.”
“You couldn’t have,” Izuku says stubbornly. “And I—it’s not your fault that you didn’t save me. If it wasn’t mine then it wasn’t yours.”
Katsuki snorts. “Alright,” he says. “I can agree to that.”
Izuku smiles slightly, but it starts to slip off his face as his eyes leave Katsuki’s face and focus on his neck and shoulders. Without even seeming to realize, his left arm comes up to trace along the various scars, including the two matching ones on either side of Katsuki’s collarbone. Izuku’s fingers linger there, light and hesitant.
“They definitely help me look badass,” Katsuki says hoarsely. It’s a shitty comfort, and he doesn’t even know if Izuku wants to be comforted. If he regrets it at all.
But then why else would they be here?
Izuku continues on, left hand working its way down his body. Katsuki eyes the other one and says, “You can touch me with the metal one, too.”
Izuku’s eyes flick up to look at him again. They have a brief staring contest which Katsuki must win, because the metal arm lifts and traces a scar that stretches from Katsuki’s nipple to belly button.
“Do you remember any?”
Izuku’s lips quirk up. “Other than the ones I gave you?” The smile drops off his face, though, as his hand settles fully over the torn up scar inches by Katsuki’s heart. Izuku’s hand is shaking.
“This,” he says quietly. “I remember this.”
Stop trying to win this on your own.
Slowly, slowly, slowly, Katsuki lifts his hand and covers Izuku’s. Izuku looks at him and says, “You told me you’d never stop loving me. Real or not?”
Katsuki says, voice hoarse, “Real.”
“Is that still true?”
He nods without a second thought. Izuku continues to stare at him.
“I’m still trying to figure everything out,” Izuku says quietly, weakly. Katsuki squeezes his hand.
“That’s fine,” he says, and it is. Izuku can take all the time he needs to figure things out. “We have all the time in the world.”
Izuku sniffs and then gives a shy smile. “I’m sorry. I came in here to comfort you, and you ended up comforting me.”
Katsuki would rather comfort Izuku than be comforted, anyway. He shrugs. “Anything you need,” he says, and he wonders if Izuku knows just how much he means it.
It’s a few days after that that it happens. Katsuki is in the middle of cooking dinner when Izuku runs into the kitchen.
“Kacchan! Guess what I just found out! Okay, you know—”
Katsuki doesn’t get to find out what it was that Izuku had figured out, because he immediately bursts into tears.
“Oh!” Izuku says, and then he seems to realize what it was that he’d just said, because he says, in a quieter tone, “Oh. Oh, Kacch—oh.”
Katsuki slides down the cabinets to slump on the ground, knees pulled up to his chest, forehead pressed to them as he breaks. It’s like every single thing he’s shoved deep inside him over the past however long has come back up with a vengeance, and the sound of that name after so long was the final straw.
All of the grief and disbelief, the shock and surprise—every extreme emotion he's felt wells up all at once, and all he can do is cry and cry as he finally lets it all out.
Katsuki hates crying; he hates even more how hard it is for him to stop. Izuku hovers around him, clearly unsure what to do. Eventually he sits down on the ground in front of Katsuki. He doesn't touch him, but he sits close, and when he speaks his voice is soft.
"I'm sorry Kacchan," he says. "You haven't had a chance to do this, have you? To break down like this?”
No, he hasn't. He's been too busy, and he hadn't wanted to do this in front of Izuku.
So much for that.
Izuku sits with him as he cries, and cries, and cries, as five years worth of loneliness and hopelessness crashes over him all at once.
"Kacchan…” Izuku says again, and that sets off a new batch of tears. He'd been ready; he'd been ready to deal with the awkwardness, with the tension, with being called Bakugou. If it meant having Izuku back, he could handle it. But this—this is too much.
“You’re alive,” he says, and then he says it again, and again, you’re alive, you’re alive, you’re alive. Izuku scooches so he’s sitting beside him with his back also to the cabinets, shoulders touching, and he stays there while Katsuki sobs.
It takes quite a long time for it to taper off, but eventually his sobs turn to sniffles turn to embarrassed silence. They sit in silence for a few minutes after that, until finally Izuku speaks.
“This is probably a stupid question, but are you okay?”
Slowly, Katsuki nods. “You just—caught me off guard.”
“I’m sorry,” Izuku says, although he has nothing to apologize for. “It just—it felt right. Calling you Bakugou was starting to make me feel weird.”
Katsuki snorts. “How d’you think I felt?”
“I’m sorry,” Izuku says again. Katsuki shakes his head.
“You got nothing to be sorry about,” he says. Izuku leans into him a little more.
“Thank you, Kacchan.”
“For what?”
“Everything. For letting me stay. For not expecting anything from me. For being patient. For trusting me, even when you had no reason to.”
Katsuki swallows against the sudden emotion in his throat. “You don’t gotta thank me for that.”
Izuku nudges him slightly with his shoulder. “Stop being so stubborn and just accept my thanks.”
A smile curves the corners of his mouth at the peevish tone in Izuku’s voice. “Yeah, alright nerd,” he says.
They sit like that for a while; neither of them seem to want to move. Izuku is warm beside him. They haven’t been this close in a while.
“Kacchan?” Izuku eventually says. “Can, I um. Ask you something?”
Their entire relationship since Izuku moved back in has been him asking things, so Katsuki is a little on edge at this question—but he nods, of course. Izuku can ask him anything.
“Have you, um… while I was gone, did you… I mean, were you ever—were you ever with anyone else?”
Katsuki freezes at this question, not expecting it. Izuku must take his silence as confirmation, because he says, in a deflated voice, “Oh. I m-mean, that’s fine, you thought I was dead, it—”
“Izuku,” he interrupts. “There was never anyone else.”
“Oh,” Izuku says again. Then: “That makes me really happy, Kacchan.”
“Yeah?” Katsuki asks hoarsely. Izuku nods. “There was never gonna be anyone else,” Katsuki continues, and Izuku wipes at his eyes.
“I think…” He sniffs. “From what I remember, I think I’m the same.”
Lightness fills Katsuki’s heart.
“Take as long as you need, Izuku,” he says. “I’ll be waiting whenever you’re ready.”
It’s a few days after that that he gets a call from Kirishima.
“We think we’ve located one of Shigaraki’s accomplices,” he says, and anger and hatred settle like rocks in Katsuki’s chest. “We’re putting together an operation to bring him in. You want in?”
More than anything. But—
“I don’t want to leave Izuku,” he says truthfully, and Kirishima makes a humming noise.
“Yeah, I figured. It’s better that you stay there with him for now. We’ll bring this guy in. I’ve got you, man.”
Katsuki feels warmth and love bloom in his heart for his best friend. “Thanks, Ei,” he says meaningfully. He can perfectly picture Kirishima’s wide grin on the other side of the line.
“I’ve got you,” he says again. Katsuki knows that he does.
He brings it up to Izuku over dinner.
“They’ve located one of Shigaraki’s accomplices,” he says carefully. Izuku’s chopsticks freeze in midair.
“Oh,” he says. There’s a lot of weight carried in that word.
They haven’t talked about it, not really. Izuku has a whole team of therapists and doctors for that, appointments that Katsuki takes him to three times a week, a whole group of people dedicated to making him well. So Katsuki hasn’t brought it up; if Izuku wants to talk about it he will.
But Izuku’s next words aren’t about Shigaraki.
“Are you going?”
Katsuki shakes his head. “No,” he says. “I’m staying.” He doesn’t add with you. He doesn’t want Izuku to think he’s holding Katsuki back or anything like that, but the unspoken words are loud regardless, and Izuku studies his plate. Katsuki is just trying to think of something else to say when Izuku beats him to it.
“I’m glad,” he says. “That may be selfish, but it’s true. I don’t want you to leave.”
Katsuki can’t help the grin that stretches across his face at Izuku’s answer. At the fact that Izuku wants him there. And as much as he’d like to go along and kick the shit out of some idiot villain, right now that’s not where he’s needed. Right now Izuku needs him, and Katsuki will always drop everything when Izuku needs him.
“I’ll stay as long as you need me to,” Katsuki says.
It all comes to a head a week or so later.
The mission to detain Shigaraki’s accomplice was a success, and although the man wasn’t talking yet, everyone was feeling optimistic about it.
But that’s not what he means. What he means when he says everything comes to a head is—
He’s sleeping again when he’s awoken by a pressure on his chest. This is not the first time Izuku has done this, nor the second, nor even the third. For some reason, he enjoyed waking Katsuki up this way. Their late night conversations were illuminating, and often involved breakthroughs for Izuku, so it’s no surprise he continues to sneak into Katsuki’s room. It’s easier, sometimes, to talk in the quiet of the night.
That’s not the problem. The problem is that this time, Katsuki had been having, well—a very good dream.
He can’t help it. As soon as he realizes Izuku is on his chest he jerks and shouts out, “Get off!”
He feels bad about it, especially when Izuku’s eyes widen. He moves off of Katsuki, but he doesn’t roll off to the side—first he shifts back.
Izuku’s eyes widen somehow even more as he feels Katsuki’s erection brush against his back. Katsuki throws his hands over his face in utter humiliation as Izuku scrambles off of him.
“I’m sorry!” Izuku says in a high-pitched voice. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”
“No, you didn’t—I’m sorry, you didn’t do anything, I just—”
“I didn’t feel anything! Um, not really!”
“I’m sorry,” Katsuki says again. “I was—dreaming.”
There’s a pause, and then Izuku says, “About… me?”
What else is he supposed to do? Lie? So he nods, because it was.
Izuku says, “What about me?”
Katsuki removes his hands from his face and stares at Izuku. His heart is beating out a frantic rhythm in his chest.
“Izuku,” he says slowly. “What are you doing?”
“I don’t know,” Izuku answers honestly. “Just that I… I wanna know.”
Katsuki licks his dry lips and sits up on his elbows. “It was—it was you and me. Together. We were…” he trails off, because he can’t bring himself to go into the details.
He doesn’t need to. Izuku takes a step closer to the bed and says, “Kacchan, can I… can I try something?”
Katsuki simply nods. Izuku can do whatever he wants.
What he isn’t expecting is for Izuku to crawl back on top of him, ass situated directly against Katsuki’s hard-on. Katsuki’s hips jerk, and Izuku places his hands on Katsuki’s chest.
“Izuku,” he says. “What are you doing?”
“I don’t really know,” Izuku says, a little shaky. “But it—it feels right.” He rocks his hips a little, and Katsuki’s eyes shutter closed at the blissful feeling. “Kacchan, can I touch you?”
Katsuki opens his eyes again. “You can do whatever you want to me,” he says, explicit permission given.
Izuku scooches down so he’s between Katsuki’s legs instead of on top of him. He pulls down the blankets, revealing Katsuki’s tented pyjama pants. His eyes are firm on Katsuki’s erection, never once leaving it as he reaches up to grab the hem of his pants. He pulls them down, down, until Katsuki’s erection springs free.
Katsuki can barely breathe.
Izuku reaches out a scarred hand and wraps it around Katsuki. He pumps it once, twice, three times—
And Katsuki fucking comes.
“Oh!” Izuku pulls his hand away, but it’s too late; it’s covered in cum, and Katsuki burns in humiliation as Izuku gently wipes his hand on his own shirt.
“I’m sorry,” he says lamely. “It’s… it’s been a while.”
Izuku lets out a giggle, but it isn’t mean-spirited. The two of them stare at each other for a few moments, before Katsuki works up his courage and says, “Come here.”
Despite his words, he meets Izuku half way.
It’s a kiss like no other. His hand comes up to twine in Izuku’s hair as they meet, lips crashing together frantically as Izuku throws himself at him. Katsuki holds him as Izuku wraps his arms around him, lips opening beneath Katsuki’s as they kiss. Katsuki pulls them backwards so they tumble together, Izuku ending up pillowed on Katsuki’s chest as they lay together, lips locked.
When they pull away, Izuku smiles down at him. Then he lifts a hand and gently wipes away the tears that are spilling from Katsuki’s face. “You’re crying,” he says softly.
“I missed you so fucking much,” he says, emotion in his voice. Izuku smiles and leans forward to kiss at Katsuki’s tears, and Katsuki wraps his arms tightly around him and buries his face in Izuku’s neck.
They stay like that until the two of them eventually drift off to sleep in each other’s arms.
Slowly but surely, things get back to normal. Izuku doesn’t need to ask him as many questions, and if there was any remaining doubt among anyone over whether Izuku still harboured murderous intentions towards him, it’s long since assuaged.
Of course, things will never truly be normal again. All that Izuku went through, and all that Katsuki went through without him—both of them have scars that will never fully heal. Izuku still does not fully trust his memory, and Katsuki sometimes wakes up from nightmares where all of this was the dream, and Izuku was really dead still.
But Katsuki is here to help supplement Izuku’s memory, and Izuku is there when Katsuki wakes up from his nightmares. Together the two of them start to rebuild the life they’d been making before.
“Hey,” Katsuki says one night, as they’re sprawled together on the couch watching television. “Would you rather be a tree or a snail?”
Izuku does not ask what the fuck Katsuki is going on about. Izuku gives the thought some serious consideration, and then he says, "I think I'd be a tree! I could house squirrels and birds and other animals and stuff. That would be nice. What do you think, Kacchan?”
Katsuki absolutely refuses to admit that his initial answer to Kirishima had been a snail (they may be slow, but at least they can go places). Instead he grunts, "Tree."
Izuku's smile is worth it.
“Oh! Maybe we could be part of the same forest!” Izuku says with a wide smile, and Katsuki pushes his hair out of his face and leans in to kiss his forehead.
“Yeah, nerd. Maybe.”
There’s still a long way to go. Shigaraki’s accomplice had started to talk, so it wouldn’t be long before they had to make a move. Katsuki would be part of that, of course—and maybe Izuku, if he wanted. He certainly deserved to be there.
But no matter how long, no matter how much work there is, Katsuki knows he can handle it.
With Izuku by his side, he could handle anything.