Flirting With Disaster [Chapter 3]

The more annoyed Katsuki got, the more torn Izuku felt. He was finally getting attention again, with all his praise and compliments and the starry-eyed looks he no longer tried to hide, but it wasn’t exactly good attention. He’d known going in that that was a possibility, but on some level he’d still kind of hoped that maybe Katsuki would appreciate it. When Imiko flirted she got smirks from him in return, or at least he stood up a little straighter, but when Izuku did it? He just got confusion, like Katsuki wasn’t sure what he was trying to do – which, in hindsight, kind of made sense. There weren’t exactly a lot of guys flirting with Katsuki, he probably hadn’t even thought about it.

As the days went on, he tried more and more to make his efforts obvious. He brought in Katsuki’s favourite snacks and slid them onto his desk while no one was looking; he wrote little notes, and passed them during classes when Katsuki looked bored; he even made an attempt at a giggle when Katsuki said something funny, but that one was quickly canned when it came out more like he was choking on air, getting him a bunch of weird looks from the desks around them.

All in all, it was going pretty well! Katsuki was a little oblivious, sure, and he seemed to think Izuku was being super weird, as usual, but on the whole, pretty well!

Until it wasn’t.

He’d walked back into class after a bathroom trip and found Katsuki in the centre of a circle of their classmates, an excited buzz running through the little crowd. Imiko, of course, was right in the middle too, squeaking excitedly like some kind of flirty chipmunk, and Izuku craned his neck to peer over the shoulders that blocked his view.

With a loud thud, Katsuki thumped someone’s hand down onto the desk, and the room erupted into cheers and whoops of excitement. It seemed it was far from his first conquest since Izuku had stepped out, but from the look of it, Katsuki hadn’t even broken a sweat yet.

Amazing.

“Anyone else?” Katsuki smirked, stretching his shoulder lightly just for show. “I’ve got plenty left in me.”

No one volunteered right away, and Katsuki’s smirk stretched a little wider, gaze slowly shifting across the group and daring anyone to meet his eyes, to be drawn in.

“I will!” Izuku squeaked, immediately kicking himself for it when everyone turned to stare.

And then, Katsuki laughed.

Honestly, he would have embarrassed himself a thousand times over to hear that laugh again. It was so unabashed; not his usual derisive one, but a genuinely amused one that just slipped its way out before he could stop it.

“You’re not gonna cheat and use your Quirk, though, right?” Izuku asked, stepping forward boldly when the group parted for him.

“Like I need to,” Katsuki snorted. “I’m no cheat.”

“Okay! Then I’ll try!”

He sat down opposite Katsuki at the desk, smiling warmly and trying his best to ignore the sniggers around them, already laughing at Izuku’s expense. All that mattered was him and Kacchan, it didn’t matter who else was watching! For that moment, and that moment only, Katsuki’s eyes were on him. Not on his lackeys who followed him around, not on Imiko with her stupid perfect smile, but on him.

Izuku’s hand hit the table the moment someone called go, his best efforts completely futile against Katsuki’s strength, but as the group erupted with laughter around them, Izuku just smiled even wider.

“Satisfied, nerd?” Katsuki asked.

“Yeah! At least I got to hold your hand for a second!”

Izuku didn’t realise the words had slipped out until the room turned dead silent, Katsuki’s eyes widening as he stared blankly, lost for words for once in his life. It took a few seconds to really sink in, for Izuku to feel his face flood with warmth, for the titters of laughter to start up again and quickly turn into peals, his classmates doubling over as their laughter burst out so violently that Izuku was glad he wasn’t within range if one of them managed to vomit in the process.

The mocking came next, the jeering and snorting, and Izuku couldn’t even bring himself to look at Katsuki’s face anymore, to see the anger that was about to flood in. His hands trembled as he pushed his chair back from the desk, his legs equally wobbly, and before Katsuki had even come up with a single word to say, before he’d even found the presence of mind to get mad, Izuku was out the door, escaping back to the nearest bathroom to lock himself inside.

Why had he said that?!

From then on, Izuku vowed, he was just going to leave Katsuki alone. He was so stupid and selfish, trying to get his attention instead of just letting him be happy. Katsuki was the most important thing, after all – Izuku would give anything to see him happy, even if it meant that Katsuki never suffered his company ever again. He could go off to U.A., could climb through the ranks to become the number one hero – to be even better than All Might – and he could just forget all about the idiot who used to follow him around, who used to embarrass him and annoy him every day of his life. Izuku didn’t need to get in his way, didn’t want to make the hardest job in the world even more difficult for him.

Katsuki was more important.

He waited until the lunch break was over before he slinked back to class, not saying a word to anyone as he slid into his seat. He could still hear the quiet titters at his expense, the hushed whispers while the teacher wasn’t yet paying attention, but no one spoke to him, no one spoke at all, at least not outright. The room was surprisingly hushed, considering the lesson hadn’t properly started yet. Izuku just kept his head down, refusing to risk looking up and catching a glimpse of Katsuki – he didn’t want to know the expression on his face, whatever it may be. If he was pissed off, Izuku would just feel worse about himself. If he was feeling pity, Izuku would feel worse about himself. And if he was amused, by all the jokes and sneering at Izuku’s expense, Izuku would feel worse about himself.

Honestly there was just no possible answer that didn’t leave Izuku feeling like shit, so it was better to just... not. To keep his eyes on his books, to focus on the words the teacher spoke and tune out any whispers around him, and to just get on with his life, letting Katsuki have his peace and quiet and freedom from all of Izuku’s nonsense, and suffering through the long, agonising hours that stretched out before him, keeping him from running off home to hide.

The world was so quiet.

He’d gotten so used to being at Katsuki’s side, even if it was at a bit of a distance. No matter how far he stayed out of physical reach, he’d always been within earshot of that voice, listening to him brag about his strength and his Quirk, or craft creative new insults for people like Izuku. The yelling had never really bothered him, though – he’d gotten used to it at a very young age, it had just become a familiar part of his life. So when Katsuki was quiet, or when Izuku was trying his best not to hear it, the whole damn world felt like an empty graveyard at three o’clock in the morning.

When the bell finally rang and Katsuki walked out the door without giving anyone a word of farewell, Izuku stayed in his seat. He didn’t sweep his books into his bag in a hurry, didn’t jump up and almost trip over his own feet in his rush to follow, he just... sat. Katsuki was always first out the door when school ended, ready to escape the extras and get home to his own turf, and Izuku had always been right behind him, carefully measuring that safe distance behind where he wouldn’t be yelled at. But that wasn’t a problem anymore, because Izuku was going to wait, and wait, and then wait a little more, to make sure he wouldn’t interfere with Katsuki’s life any more than necessary.

It wasn’t like anyone noticed the difference. His classmates were busy making plans with each other to hang out at the mall or the arcade, his teacher was out the door almost as quickly as Katsuki was, and even the people who just packed their bags and said goodbye didn’t notice Izuku still awkwardly squirming in his chair. But he was going to suck it up and deal with it, for Katsuki’s sake – he refused to torture Katsuki any more than he already had.

He made sure to give Katsuki plenty of time to get away, just in case he broke his routine or something. If he stopped to use the bathroom, or dropped his bag and had to pick up his books, or tripped on his shoelaces and had to dust himself off and tie them again, Izuku might accidentally catch up to him, and that would ruin his entire plan. But when he finally did start walking, everything about it felt... wrong. There was no Katsuki yelling at their classmates as they parted ways, no comforting set of familiar footsteps walking just ahead of his, no shock of fluffy blond hair that led him home like a little beacon of light. The world was just so empty.

He froze when he reached the end of the street, surprised to see Katsuki’s back as he rounded the last corner toward his home. Izuku had clearly been right to wait so long, if Katsuki was only just leaving their corner. With a mental note to wait a little longer the next time, Izuku stepped onto his own street, waiting and listening for a minute just to be sure.

Even if he was distancing himself from Katsuki, he was still going to make sure he was safe.

When a decent amount of time had passed, Izuku finally started down his own street, hurrying toward the apartment building where his mother would be waiting. If he didn’t get home soon, she would start to worry, and he didn’t want to burden her with his silly problems.

“Hi Mom!” he called, as he kicked his shoes off in the doorway. “I’m home!”

“Welcome home, sweetie!” she called back, voice echoing out from the kitchen. “How was school?”

Awful. Embarrassing. Quiet. Miserable. Exhausting.

“It was fine.” He smiled awkwardly, leaning against the doorway to watch her cook. “That smells good, what are you making?”

“Curry!”

Kacchan’s favourite.

“Sounds amazing, thank you.”

“Go change out of your uniform then come tell me about school!”

“Sure, Mom. I’ll be back in a minute.”

He stepped out, heading for his bedroom, and finally let himself relax when the door was closed, the smile falling off his face. It was hard to keep up appearances sometimes, but he didn’t want to worry her, especially over such petty problems.

With his clothes changed, he took a long, deep breath, plastering a smile back on his face as he stepped out of the room.

He’d never let anyone see how quiet his world had become.

─────

Izuku’s schedule had never been more sporadic than it was over the next few weeks. He knew his mother was starting to wonder, to form questions in her mind that he really hoped she never said out loud, lest he had to actually come up with an answer for them. He didn’t want to lie, he hated lying in general and especially to his mother, but he also didn’t want to bother her with his dumb, embarrassing, typical-teenager problems.

For the first couple of days, he left home late. Katsuki was a stickler for being on time, so Izuku had figured it would be easy to just leave ten minutes later and avoid him entirely. But somehow, Katsuki was always there when Izuku reached the corner.

So then he tried leaving extra early, to get to school and hang out in the classroom alone before Katsuki had gotten out of the house. It had worked once, but then suddenly Katsuki was there again, walking down the street, sipping from his beat-up old water bottle while their peers chugged cans of energy drinks to wake up for class. Izuku had been tempted by the caffeine too, a number of times, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it, knowing how sternly Katsuki would judge him and glare at him for it – Katsuki despised those things with a passion.

Next, he left extra late – hurrying his pace to make sure he wouldn’t be late for class. But again, inexplicably, Katsuki was there. He was rounding that same corner, grumbling to himself as he checked his watch, scowling as he stomped his way down the street.

On one hand, Izuku couldn’t help but think that they were so in sync. He hated himself for thinking it, for giving himself some kind of weird, cosmic false hope, but he just kept thinking what are the odds? Because honestly, what were the chances? Katsuki, who had never been late a day in his life, was suddenly the one rushing to get to school before the teacher could lecture him and risk ruining his record when it came time to apply to U.A., time to take the first step toward becoming the Number One Hero. Katsuki, who had his schedule planned down to the minute – including bathroom breaks!! - was suddenly the one leaving home early, if he wasn’t running late, even though it meant wasting his precious minutes of sleep, or quiet, or training. And Katsuki, of all people, was suddenly changing that schedule from day to day. It wasn’t like he’d added some new activity that delayed him, wasn’t like he’d started getting up early to be at school sooner, he was all over the place and if Izuku hadn’t been trying his best to leave the guy alone, he’d have been the first to ask what the hell was going on and if Katsuki was okay.

So yeah, it felt like some weird balance had formed between them; a magnet had suddenly connected their thoughts and their schedules, or the planets had aligned in just the right way that they influenced both Izuku’s and Katsuki’s thoughts equally, somehow. It made zero sense, he had no real explanation for any of what was going on, and it was ruining his selfless plan to let Katsuki move on with his life without Izuku holding him back.

He really, really felt like it might be a sign.

But no! He had to push on! He’d known from the start that it wasn’t going to be an easy feat – if anything it was going to be the hardest thing he’d ever done – and maybe the universe was just testing him! Making sure his resolve was strong!

So he continued to try his best, to vary his schedule by ridiculous amounts, and every so often, it worked! Once in a while, he made it to school without seeing that shock of blond hair stomping on ahead, or he hurried into class after the bell rang and found Katsuki scowling as he threw his textbooks onto his desk to get started. But the next day, inevitably, Katsuki was back in his view.

He refused to admit that he was relieved when their schedules lined up once more. As much as he tried to avoid meeting up, he was still a little pleased when they did.

After school had been no better. Katsuki still rushed out of class the moment the bell rang, but somehow, no matter how long Izuku waited, he was always there. If he hurried out right behind Katsuki, they got stuck walking a few metres apart like they always had. But if he waited, if he took his time cleaning up, went to the bathroom, even stopped to do his homework, Katsuki was still there – a little further along their route home, sure, but there. If Izuku hadn’t known any better, he’d have thought Katsuki was doing it on purpose just to torment him. But no, Katsuki wouldn’t have even noticed, let alone figured out his plans and found a way to ruin them. Besides, he wouldn’t want to ruin them, if he had figured it out. He’d have loved to have more space from Izuku.

It made no sense.

At least, it hadn’t, until that fateful Friday, a month after his stupid, embarrassing comment and the subsequent decision to remove himself from Katsuki’s life.

The bell rang, and Imiko hurried out of class, leaving Izuku sitting there with a textbook on his desk and a sinking feeling quickly taking over his stomach. Those light footsteps raced out only seconds behind Katsuki, her pace surely uncomfortable compared to the longer, easier strides she was trying to catch up to, and Izuku leaned over slightly to catch a glimpse of them through the wide-open doorway linking their classroom to the rest of the school building. Imiko reached for Katsuki’s arm, and for a moment Izuku wanted to scream or punch something, until he saw the quick, subtle movement of Katsuki twitching away. It was the first time in weeks that he’d found any kind of solace in Katsuki’s actions, and to Imiko’s credit, she didn’t make a second attempt.

That explained why Katsuki was always so slow, lately, he supposed. Izuku was surprised every night when he saw Katsuki at their corner, only just stepping onto his street when Izuku got close enough to spot him. It had seemed like no matter how long Izuku waited, no matter what time he got home, Katsuki was always at that corner, always ready for Izuku to make sure he got home safely. Secretly he was a little grateful for that, he took a lot of comfort in knowing that Katsuki got home safe and happy and healthy. But it had all suddenly become clear, in that moment – it wasn’t cosmic intervention, wasn’t some strange emotional magnetism, he was just... watching someone else. While Izuku made sure Katsuki got home safely, Katsuki did the same for her.

It probably explained his mornings, too. Katsuki wasn’t the type to outright walk to school with her, but it was probably easy enough to spot her from that corner, to make sure she was out of her house and on her way to school. And when he ran late to class, when she got there first, it probably explained his scowl – all that time he’d been waiting, only to find out she’d gone on ahead. It all made total sense, and Izuku probably should have been relieved to know there was a sensible reason and not something weird and wrong going on in Katsuki’s life – although Izuku did consider it pretty weird and wrong for him to ruin his schedule for a girl – but instead he was... sad.

That was really the only word for it.

When, one day, he got an invitation to their wedding – a guy could dream – he would smile and try his best to be happy for them both. But until then, as he continued to try his best to be selfless about it all, he would allow himself that little piece of sadness.

No one ever had to know.