Red Strings

Katsuki grimaced, squeezing his hand into a fist and stuffing it into his pocket in a hurry. Even though it came with no physical sensation, over the years, Katsuki had developed some kind of a sense for when it was happening, like he could always feel it for just a few seconds before it actually became visible.

He sneaked a glance over his shoulder, at where Izuku was chatting happily with their latest set of interns. His students, Katsuki supposed. Not that he didn’t greet all their interns with the same dumb enthusiasm, asking all about their quirks and speculating over their strengths and weaknesses and what kind of unusual training they could do to get the most out of it. That was probably why he refused to stop teaching, even though the world could have used him as a hero full-time. Not that it ever really stopped him, it just meant whenever an alarm sounded, Izuku was tearing off his suit and tie and jumping out a classroom window, instead of coming from an agency. Katsuki couldn’t help but wonder how much teaching those kids actually got from him.

Izuku’s eyes widened, and he shifted his hands behind his back. He made no other reaction – still continued talking, didn’t even blush or stutter or anything like that, like he used to do. He was all grown up, apparently.

Took him long enough.

Katsuki could feel the line around his finger, now; tightening just enough to put pressure on his skin. It wound in criss-crossed lines up and down his finger, demanding his attention, tugging at him like it might be able to drag him across the room. When he was a kid, it had just been a dumb little red loop that occasionally showed up like he was wearing a too-big ring, but the older he’d gotten, the more stubborn it had become, refusing to let him ignore it.

But the joke was on it, because Katsuki wasn’t doing shit.

For one thing, he was a hero. There were few things worse in his mind than causing someone else physical pain when he got hit by a damn villain. And sure, selfishly, it would lessen his own pain and injuries, which would have been kind of nice, but there was no way he was going to put someone else’s life and body in danger alongside his own.

Then again...

He glanced over at Izuku again, catching a glimpse of bright red that his hand almost covered, only Katsuki’s proximity, angle, and the fact that he knew it was there, allowing him to spot it. He’d gotten much better at covering it up, thank fuck.

An alarm sounded, and Katsuki was standing before he’d even processed it, snatching his gauntlets from the desk as he ran for the door. By the time he got outside, the location ping would have reached his watch, letting him know which direction to launch himself in. And as always, at least these days, Izuku was right by his side, moving without need for any orders or questions or hesitation. They were two sides of the same coin, always ready to cover each other’s backs.

As Katsuki rocketed through the air, following the little arrow on his wrist, he felt that little tug again, cursing as it shifted his balance for a second. He had to fire extra hard out of one hand to rebalance himself, eyes narrowing as he glared at the sky.

“Not the time, asshole,” he hissed. He’d complained at the universe a thousand times over the years, of course, and it had never worked, but maybe this time, it would throw him a bone.

He didn’t remember most of those thousand times, but the first one? That one he remembered. It was the same stupid day that Izuku went to the stupid doctor and found out he had no stupid quirk. Katsuki had been sitting at home, none the wiser, when that stupid red loop hand shown up on his hand. He’d frowned at it for a moment, confused, but when he’d tried to pull it off to inspect, it had refused to budge. He’d pulled at it, tried to find an end to untie, even tried taking to it with a pair of child-safe scissors, before he’d finally run downstairs to find his parents and ask them to get rid of it. Then the phone call had come, and Katsuki had heard tears on the other side, and Mitsuki had shut herself in a room with that frown that meant she was gonna lie to him later about what was going on, and by the time she’d emerged, the loop had disappeared again.

He also remembered the time his hands had been jammed inside a fuckin’ metal casing, his entire body restrained against fighting back or even running away, and he’d felt it burning against his skin. It had never hurt him before or since, but that day it had felt like fire on his finger, and if he’d had the chance to break free of the weird handcuffs, he was pretty sure he’d have tried to blast his damn finger off before he’d even have aimed for Shigaraki.

He glanced at where Izuku flew beside him, with long, dark strands occasionally wrapping around a light pole to redirect him, Katsuki right at his side the entire time. He’d done everything he could, to make things better between them, and nothing made him happier than the relationship they shared. The easy friendship, where they could laugh together over dinner, or lament their work troubles together, or even show up at each other’s door in the middle of the night without ever being questioned, just invited in and offered a drink or a bed for the night. They’d both taken advantage of that part of their relationship a few times in their lives, and never spoken about those nights again.

It was more than he ever could have asked for, and he’d never dare to ask for anything more.

———

Izuku could feel his finger throbbing inside his gloves, trying to demand his attention. It really wasn’t the time for it, but he was pretty sure that was the point; the damn string had never exactly chosen convenient moments to show up, after all. It seemed like his entire life it had been there, usually invisible, but always present, always making his right hand feel just slightly heavier than his left. Usually he didn’t even notice it, but every so often, the damn thing liked to announce its presence with all the subtlety of a screaming baby on a plane.

They were getting close to the beacon on his locator, so Izuku shot a glance over, making sure Katsuki was still beside him. He always was, he never really needed to look, but it brought him comfort all the same, to see him there with that evil-looking smirk, so eager to get in a good fight. This was what he lived for, after all. What both of them lived for.

And as much as he lo— enjoyed Katsuki’s company, this was how it had to be. Katsuki would never risk anything more, even if, one day, he decided he wanted to. They had too much history, too much baggage, that Katsuki never wanted to unseal from its pristine little package he’d managed to wrap it up into. They were good now, even if Katsuki would never quite believe it. Hell, Izuku was pretty sure he owed more to Katsuki now than Katsuki had ever owed him, but apparently Katsuki didn’t see it that way. As far as he was concerned, he’d spend the rest of his life trying to make things right, even though he’d already done so, and then some.

After all, without Katsuki, Izuku wouldn’t even have been there. He’d have been sitting in a classroom, watching out the window as his classmates soared by to fight together, or worse, in some old office building, typing away on a computer day after day, cheering Katsuki on from behind a TV screen, fighting beside all his friends that Izuku would never have even met. He owed Katsuki so much, and yet the stubborn man just couldn’t see it.

It hadn’t always been that way, of course. When Izuku had first learned what that little red string meant, it had been back when little Izuku was still silently crying himself to sleep every night, praying that maybe he’d wake up and find out that it was all a dream, or a mistake, and that he still had a chance to stand by Katsuki’s side. And as they’d gotten older, and he’d run out of tears, Katsuki had gotten angrier, mad at him not only for destroying their shared dream, but for daring to act like it could still happen, when they both knew otherwise. Izuku had refused to let his doubts show, had known it, had felt it, that something would come along, something would happen that dragged him back up there, to fight his way to Katsuki’s side. Maybe it had just been wishful thinking, but it had worked, right?

But for most of their lives, all through those awful years, and the tense, difficult ones that came after as they tried to fix things – despite their terrible communication skills on both sides – Izuku had known that it just... wasn’t possible. They’d never have been able to work the same shifts, for one thing, and any one of the hundred fights they got into each week could have put them both out of action for god knew how long. Not to mention, if worst came to worst, one of them could be captured and tortured, leaving the other forced to feel every single moment of it along with them. No thank you. No matter what the universe said, no matter what his brain said when he forgot to distract it sufficiently, no matter what his damn heart said multiple times a day, it could never happen. Never.

He loved Katsuki far too much to put him through that.

When the villain came into sight, a massive creature rising high above the rooftops, Izuku didn’t have to speak. He lifted his left hand and took aim, diverting his course, watching as Katsuki mirrored him in perfect sync. When the villain looked up, Izuku caught their eye, grabbing his own wrist to brace himself before he sent out a strong burst of air. It sent the villain back a step, struggling to stay on their feet, and that gave Katsuki the perfect moment to strike, blasting them from behind where they couldn’t see it coming. When the villain whirled around, a massive hand raising to swat at Katsuki like a bug, Izuku moved again, launching himself in close. On and on they went, taking turns to strike and then fall back, never saying a word but always knowing exactly what to do, where to be. Every time one of them was a little too slow, the other was there, causing a distraction to get the other out. Every time one of them got a particularly good vantage point, the other was there, pinning the villain in place to give the other their best chance.

More villains began to appear, whether planned or just seizing the opportunity, and Izuku knew he should be concerned, but he just didn’t seem to have the capacity for it, not with Katsuki by his side. Other heroes would be on their way, anyway, ready to help intercept the villains trying to get close as they approached. Their own sidekicks were out in the streets, too, doing their best to evacuate people in a hurry and help minimise property damage while Katsuki and Izuku were too distracted. And besides, it wasn’t like the pair had never fought multiple villains at once, before. Hell, it was practically their brand at this point, taking on a dozen at a time to hold them off while they waited for back up, or let other heroes fight with a better numbers advantage. The only other people who did that so reliably were Lemillion and Shouto, or Mount Lady in the right environment; there was a small, elite group who could be reliably counted on to hold off an army, and Izuku was proud to say he was finally among it.

Of course, the days he had Katsuki at his side were a lot more pleasant than trying to do it all on his own. That was most days, lately, or at least increasingly often. Izuku still took time away for other things, while Katsuki was as-ever a damn workaholic only kept alive and functioning by his insanely strict schedule, but honestly? Izuku kind of envied him. It must have been nice to just pour himself into his job, to not think about anything else, to dedicate every moment of his day to just being the best he could possibly be. Maybe one day Izuku would find that kind of drive again, but he would feel too guilty, he thought. He had too many other things going on, too many other people counting on him, and even on the days where he stared wistfully at Katsuki’s solo fights on the TV, he knew he couldn’t let so many people down.

Besides, with so many amazing colleagues, none of the heroes were working as hard as Katsuki, anymore. That was just him. Shouto was frequently taking week-long holidays to visit other countries and try new foods, Lemillion had a family at home that he took amazing care of, and half of the older heroes had just straight-up retired because they never made it to a scene quicker than Izuku’s generation anyway. Katsuki’s whole life had been about heroism though, he’d never care about any of the other stuff. The fact that he’d let Izuku stand beside him, fight beside him, take down villains with him without arguing about who did the most damage or got the final blow, was a dream come true.

Izuku wouldn’t have traded it for the world.

———

The villain wasn’t even in the back of the police van yet – though Katsuki had made damn sure he was incapacitated – but Katsuki was already running. He dodged between villains being restrained and loaded, ignored shouts from police officers and journalists trying to get his attention, did everything in his power to forget about the blood trickling down his face and the spots forming in his vision, all that mattered was that he got to that fucking white van, where the people in blood-spattered uniforms were hurrying around, sharing looks of concern and quiet words that Katsuki didn’t need to hear to know they were bad.

The stretcher was being loaded in, and Katsuki popped off a few sparks, taking a moment to find enough sweat to launch himself, to get there before the doors closed. He slammed into the side of the van, making everyone in the vicinity jump, but then he was stumbling around to the back, grabbing the door, still ignoring all the protests around him, all the people telling him to come see them instead, to let the vehicle leave.

“Is he gonna be okay?” Katsuki choked out, his voice rough and his throat aching where the villain had managed to get a grip on his neck for a moment.

None of them answered him, just sharing looks and hoping someone else would speak up, so Katsuki climbed inside, letting them grumble to each other for a second then finally cave, slamming the door behind him and climbing into the front seats.

“We’re doing all we can,” a brave paramedic spoke up. “Please stand back, Sir. Do you need any urgent attention?”

“No,” Katsuki told him, shaking his head and wincing. “Scrapes and bruises, I’m fine. Be honest with me. Is he bad-bad?”

“Yes, Sir,” the man admitted, his voice oddly quiet.

“What are his chances?”

“I can’t give you...” he trailed off, sighing. “Not good. We need to get him to the hospital as soon as we can, and they’re prepping for immediate surgery, but I don’t know if...”

Katsuki’s finger twitched.

“Let me see him,” he demanded, shoving aside a couple of flustered paramedics who tried to stop him. “Deku! Deku, Izuku—fuck.”

He finally got eyes on the man, but he immediately wished he hadn’t. He was covered in more blood than Katsuki had ever seen before, and that was saying something. His arm was mangled, both legs clearly broken, and while he didn’t look too closely, he was pretty sure a part of his skull was caved in, at the back. Katsuki had seen Izuku in bad shape before, so many times, if he was entirely honest. This, though? This was... something else.

Katsuki’s entire hand felt like it was on fire, despite his usual heat resistance.

“You got another bed or some shit in here?” he asked quietly, locking eyes with the paramedic who had finally been honest with him. “Or, hell, a couple of cushions?”

Izuku was hooked up to painkillers, at least. Maybe that would help.

“Excuse me?”

Katsuki didn’t bother to explain. He didn’t have the luxury of time.

He leaned in, wrapping his stupid, squeezing, twitching, burning, infuriating pinky finger around Izuku’s. He didn’t watch, but he felt that string moving, finally untangling a little from where it had clutched at him so tightly, where it had served as a lifelong reminder of everything good and bad in his world. Instead of watching it go, watching it move on its own, Katsuki closed his eyes. He could taste blood, and while it wasn’t that weird in his life, it was incredibly strange knowing that it wasn’t his. Because his lips were touching Izuku’s, and he’d never even dared to dream that could happen, after all the shit he’d fucked up, and how awful of a kid he’d been, and even now that he was doing better, doing good, he could still never have hoped that Izuku would want it. He probably didn’t still, but at least he would understand; he would be mad at first, he would complain and whine and apologise like an idiot, but he would thank Katsuki, too, for being willing to take that step just for him.

Not that it was really just for Izuku. It was for his mother, who had already come so close to losing him so many times; for his friends, who would beat themselves up for the rest of their lives, for not being there; for the world, who needed Deku in their lives; and it was for Katsuki, who couldn’t imagine spending the rest of his life without that dumb face and his annoying mumbles. He’d spent years on his own already, had finally dragged Izuku back to his side, and he wasn’t willing to give that up again. Not yet. Not ever.

The pain hit him in an instant, like he’d fallen in front of a speeding train, and landed in a pit of glass and rusty nails. He’d had his fair share of injuries in his life, had come face to face with his mortality and barely stayed on the right side of the line, but all of that was nothing on the sheer ache of everything Deku had been feeling.

“Fuck,” Katsuki hissed, his legs giving out beneath him and sending him to the floor with a thud that he was pretty sure dislodged some bones “Fuck.”

“Mister Dynamight, what did you... Get me some more pain meds,” the paramedic said, grabbing Katsuki under the arms and helping him lie down, despite his grunts of protest. “That was a stupid thing to do, Sir.”

“Did it work?” he forced out.

The man glanced over, then conceded a reluctant nod, slipping a needle into Katsuki’s arm.

“Yes,” he said, his voice muffled by a curtain of fog. “Rest.”

———

Izuku woke up.

Most days, that was a pretty normal feeling. Sometimes he was even mad about it, if he was woken up too early, or just hadn’t gotten any decent sleep. Other days he was a little tired, sure, but he was glad to face another day, full of hero work or seeing his friends or helping teach new budding-heroes how to be better than he’d been.

That day, though? That day, it was a shock.

He hadn’t exactly made his peace, in what he’d thought were his final moments; the pain had been worse than anything he’d ever felt before, nothing in his body had seemed to work, and he’d wanted to scream, or cry, or something, but his body had just... refused. He’d just had to lie there, in a crumpled heap, his senses slowly fading, replaced only with more pain.

But he woke up.

His body was pretty numb, in all honestly, but he could still feel a dull ache beneath it all, that painkillers hadn’t been able to entirely remove. He felt weak, like he couldn’t actually lift his limbs, or turn his head. It took all his energy just to crack his eyelids open a tiny bit, immediately closing them again when the blinding white lights and ceiling hit him.

His hearing was returning, though, even if it was ridiculously faint. He could hear a slow, steady beeping coming from beside him, and combined with the blinding ceiling, and the painkillers, he had a pretty clear idea of where he’d woken up.

Usually, he woke up with a hand holding his. Occasionally his mother, but most often...

“Kacchan,” he whispered, immediately regretting it. His throat felt like it had been torn to shreds, and his jaw could have fallen off for all he knew, with the sharp pain that coursed through it.

There was no answer, though, and Izuku turned his attention to his hands again, twitching his fingers just slightly. The joints didn’t want to cooperate, but his fingertips lifted just the tiniest bit, unimpeded. He’d hoped they might hit something, might find a warm, soft hand that he just couldn’t feel initially, but no, they only held empty space. Did that mean...?

No, there was no way. The villain had been so close to a goner, when Izuku had taken that one unlucky hit that had sent him into the ground. Katsuki had been fine. Well, beaten up, sure, but there was zero risk of him... no, Katsuki was fine, he just... wasn’t there. He’d had to pee, or something. Even police statements had never taken him from Izuku’s bedside before, he’d always adamantly refused to move until Izuku was awake. Maybe, there was a very small, tiny, miniscule chance, that he could have gone to pick up Izuku’s mother. More likely he’d have sent a taxi to fetch her, but maybe there had been none available, or maybe his mother had been such a mess that she couldn’t get herself into the car alone, or—

Izuku’s finger felt wrong.

Even through the haze of the painkillers, the limbs he could barely feel and appendages he could barely move, he knew there was something off. He tilted his head, just a millimetre, then took a break to breathe, to steady himself. Another millimetre, then another, until finally he felt like he’d moved just enough to get a glimpse. He opened his eyes, and when he looked down, his finger was... bare. Mangled and mottled with bruises, surrounded by casts on various parts of his body, and of course it often looked bare, but this was... different. It was actually bare. Did that mean...? No. There was no way. There was no chance that Katsuki had gone and gotten himself—

“Deku?” a voice whispered.

He turned his head another millimetre, then with a grunt and a groan, he forced it the rest of the way all at once, hissing with the pain and taking a moment to breathe before he forced his eyes open again.

Izuku had never seen anything so beautiful.

Except... Katsuki was a lot more hurt than he’d been, when Izuku lost consciousness. Whatever had happened after that, it had to have been bad, and Izuku felt guilt well inside of him at the thought of Katsuki facing it all on his own.

“Kacchan,” he said finally.

It still made him want to tear his face off to keep from feeling the pain, but it also felt so good.

“I’m sorry,” Katsuki whispered.

Izuku just made a confused noise – it mostly came out pained, but he knew Katsuki would understand.

“I... fuck.”

Katsuki stopped talking, and Izuku understood. Clearly there was something he wanted to talk about, something important, but it seemed impossible to have any kind of a conversation, with the pain he was in, and Katsuki looked to be in pretty rough shape too. Not nearly as bad as Izuku knew he’d been, thank god, but enough that there was going to be no hero work in Katsuki’s near future, and Izuku hated himself for that, for not doing more while he had the chance.

“Oh, you’re awake,” someone said, curtain rings rattling as they drew back to let the speaker in. “I’ll increase your painkillers, give me a moment.”

“Okay?” Izuku gasped.

“Okay?” the nurse, presumably, echoed. “Oh. You’re doing fine, Mister Deku. You were very lucky.”

“Kacchan. Ok?”

The nurse paused, then chuckled, and Izuku felt himself relax a little.

“He’s fine too,” she assured him. “You’re both gonna be okay, just get some rest for now.”

Izuku groaned, but just hearing those words, he felt a lot better. His finger still felt wrong, his body still felt ready to slip into the grave at any moment, but knowing Katsuki was okay, that he was right there beside him, and they were both safe? That was worth a hell of a lot.

———

“I’m sorry.”

The words were a little easier to get out, this time. They’d finally been discharged, after over a week in the hospital room, snatching moments of lucidity here and there, but otherwise knocked out. They’d been sent home to bed, to rest with their parents watching over them, but Katsuki had sneaked out as soon as they’d gone to bed, had found Izuku already sitting in the park, staring at the sky.

“For what, Kacchan?”

Izuku sounded better, too. For the first day, he’d been groaning and grunting and sobbing in his sleep, and Katsuki had hated himself. Maybe death would have been better, in Izuku’s mind. The pain and suffering ending, not having to deal with a future where neither of them could be heroes anymore. Katsuki had been selfish, dragging him back into this mess.

“I couldn’t watch you die.”

Izuku didn’t speak, for a moment, and Katsuki could practically hear the gears turning in his head. He knew he should explain, should clarify, but he just... didn’t want to.

“I don’t understand,” Izuku whispered. “Kacchan?”

Katsuki lifted his little finger, shifting his eyes to see Izuku already looking at him, his head turned just enough to see Katsuki’s face, like it had been in the hospital bed. But still, Izuku just looked lost, confused.

Fuck, he was gonna have to say the words.

“I kissed you,” he admitted.

“Oh,” Izuku said softly. “Well... Thank you, for the apology, but it’s okay. You must have been emotional, seeing me in such bad shape, and sometimes... things happen, when emotions are running high like that. I understand.”

“Deku, you idiot,” Katsuki hissed, squeezing his eyes shut so tightly that he could feel his eyelids hurting. “I kissed you.”

The kiss. The finger. The injuries. Izuku wasn’t stupid, that had to be enough, didn’t it??

“I... got that, Kacchan.”

He was so fucking dense.

“We’re soulmates, you idiot.”

Katsuki felt his face flush. He’d never actually said that word out loud before, and he was pretty sure Izuku hadn’t either – at least he hadn’t around Katsuki. It was something they both knew, obviously, but it wasn’t like they’d ever talked about it. Katsuki hadn’t deserved him, the universe had obviously fucked up and made their match completely unequal, and that wasn’t fair to Izuku. He deserved someone better, someone who never hurt him.

“Oh,” Izuku gasped, finally catching on. “Kacchan, what the fuck?”

Katsuki cringed. There it was, and here more came.

“You took my injuries?” Izuku demanded. “You hurt yourself? Why would you do that?”

“Because you were gonna die, asshole, and I couldn’t watch that happen!”

“Kacchan.”

“Don’t fucking start with me!” Katsuki yelled, even though it made his throat want to die. “I know! It was fucked up! And I’ve ruined our fucking future! But I couldn’t just stand there and watch you die!”

“Ruined our— Kacchan, I was dying, what the hell kind of future did I have for you to ruin?!”

“How are we supposed to be heroes now?! We all worked so damn hard to get that future back for you, and in one stupid moment, I tore it away from you again!”

Izuku kissed him.

“What the fuck?!” Katsuki demanded, when they parted again. “What was that for?!”

“Now we’re even!” Izuku yelled right back. “Stop beating yourself up!”

“That makes sense to you?!”

“I don’t know! I just wanted to! And I can now, so shut up! I missed out on the first one!”

“You wanted to?!”

“Yeah! And I want to do it again! Even though you’re being such a loud asshole in public in the middle of the night!”

“So are you!”

Izuku reached for him again, but this time Katsuki beat him to it, tangling his sore fingers in those messy green curls and yanking him closer, bring their lips together. And hell, when they were both aware and invested? So much better. It was no wonder his shitty friends liked to do that shit in public all the time.

Footsteps moved toward them, but Katsuki refused to look up, only reluctantly parting from Izuku when, with a little squeak, the nerd pulled back and turned around, trembling. Katsuki glanced over, expecting to find some old biddy ready to give them a lecture, but of course it had to be his old biddy, arms folded sternly, though she couldn’t quite hide her amusement.

“Sneaking out, are we?” she asked, admittedly a little fondly. “Aren’t you a little old for teenage rebellion?”

“Shut up!” Katsuki demanded. “I’m an adult, I do what I want!”

“Including yelling at the top of your lungs at—” she paused, grabbing her phone from the pocket of her coat, pulled on over her pyjamas. “Two in the fucking morning.”

“Damn right, old hag!”

“Look,” she said, a lot softer. “I know you think your parents are stupid and oblivious, but we know, okay? Obviously we were never going to interfere with your decisions, but it was pretty obvious that something had changed, when you were lying in matching hospital beds with identical injuries. So Izuku, sweetie, I’ve told your mother you’re gonna come spend the night at our place, and she’s gonna text you in the morning. You can talk it out, gently punch each other or whatever, but come do it in private, okay? I already turned the heater on for you.”

Katsuki was, admittedly, freezing.

“How did you know where we were?” Izuku asked sheepishly.

“The entire neighbourhood knows exactly where you are. Come on, come get warm, Masaru is making hot chocolate.”

Izuku rose to his feet, and with a sigh, Katsuki followed. He let his parents sit them down in the dining room, admittedly nice and warm, with blankets wrapped around their shoulders just to be sure, and hot mugs of chocolate and marshmallows in their hands. He nodded when they said goodnight, assuring him his bedroom heater had been turned on as well, and telling Izuku to join them for breakfast in the morning. And he sipped at his mug in silence, the nerd’s warm presence at his side, leaning in occasionally to bump their shoulders together or brush against his thigh, just to make sure he was paying attention.

“Can I stay?” Izuku asked quietly, when their mugs were empty.

“Yeah.”

“We’re gonna make this work, Kacchan.”

Katsuki blinked at him, and Izuku reached out, his fingertips stroking Katsuki’s cheek with the lightest touch in the world and making his whole face tingle.

“I love you,” he said softly. “I’ve always loved you, Kacchan.”

“You shouldn’t,” Katsuki answered, his voice pathetically weak. “I don’t deserve it.”

“Kacchan,” Izuku said again, pressing their foreheads together. “How many people would do what you did? How many people would knowingly take so much pain to save someone else’s life? Someone they’re not even dating.”

“I’ve done so much fucked up shit—”

“You were a shitty kid,” Izuku acknowledged. “But you were a kid. And you’ve more than made up for that. You just keep beating yourself up, without seeing all the amazing, incredible things that you’ve done since. Things you’ve done for me. If anything, Kacchan, I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you. Especially now.”

“But—”

“We’ll make it work, Kacchan. I’m not giving up on this dream again, and I won’t let you give up, either. You and me, together, can do absolutely anything. Don’t you know that?”

“Of course we can,” Katsuki snorted. “We’re the fucking best.”

“Good.” Izuku said, cracking a smile. “Then tonight, we’re gonna go snuggle in your bed and savour the fact that we’re alive, and we’re together, and we’re safe. Tomorrow, we’re gonna go on a date. And it’s gonna be the cheesiest thing in the world, and you’re gonna claim that you hate every minute of it, but secretly, you’re gonna love it. And then, once we’ve gotten our shit together, we’re gonna go talk to Aizawa-sensei, because I have no doubt in my mind that there have been soulmates before us who managed perfectly well to work as heroes together, and if anyone knows where to find them, he will. Any questions?”

“Why are you such a dork?”

“Dunno,” Izuku grinned. “Why do you love it?”

“You’re the one who used that word, not me,” Katsuki huffed, feeling immediately guilty for it when Izuku’s hand pulled back. “Whatever, nerd. I love you too, I guess.”

“Thanks Kacchan,” Izuku said softly, pressing another quick kiss to Katsuki’s lips. “And thank you for being my soulmate.”

“Like I had a choice.”

Izuku smirked, and Katsuki felt his stomach flutter. There was something about that look.

“I would’ve chosen you anyway,” Izuku informed him, making him turn bright fuckin’ red.

“Yeah,” Katsuki admitted, looking away. “Me too, nerd.”

“Bedtime?”

“Yeah,” Katsuki said again, climbing to his feet. “But if you snore, I’m breaking this damn bond.”

Izuku giggled, and Katsuki couldn’t help but smile along, reaching for Izuku’s hand and linking their pinky fingers together, watching that stupid red string bloom around them once more.