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perseuesjackson · 6 years

Text

with the rain pouring all around us

ao3

words 3647

status complete (?)

summary When he walked away all those years ago, the last thing Izuku expects is for Bakugou Katsuki to come back.

a/n so this is og a one shot but i do have idea written for future chapters, i may continue if this is well received and if people wanna see that??? im not the best with finishing multichapters tho;;

The rain pours all around them, and it isn’t romantic in the least.

“Kacchan?”

The man before him looks lost, unsure where to look at. Finally, Bakugou Katsuki’s fiery red eyes settle on Izuku’s, glaring.

“I’m—I,” he starts, but the words don’t come out. “Fuck, Deku, I—” He stops himself again.

Izuku notices that his hair is shorter, though it’s still wild as ever. He’s growing a small stubble, too. Those were all new, but there were other things that hasn’t changed. The way he wears sleeveless tops. Boots that allow him to jump into action at anytime. Fists clenched, jaw tight, that was Kacchan. How could Izuku ever have forgotten that image?

Izuku opens his mouth, ready to offer something—though what, he isn’t sure—when Kacchan takes a deep, frustrated breath before angrily speaking.

“Are you just going to let me stand here in the rain?”

He blinks. Izuku knows he shouldn’t have forgotten, definitely did not forget, but the forcibly blunt way that is utterly Kacchan is something he hasn’t experienced in so long.

“Um, no, yeah, come in,” he offers a little bit awkwardly, shuffling to the side so there’s enough space for Kacchan to come in. The hero, soaking wet to the bone, mutters a thanks before stepping through the threshold and slipping off his wet sneakers.

There’s a million things wrong with Kacchan, Kacchan, in his living room, and there’s a million questions Izuku wants to ask. But the thing he blurts out into the silence that had settled between them as Kacchan shucks off his thin, wet coat is: “How did you know I lived here?”

“Icy-Hot gave it to me,” is all Kacchan gives him, which isn’t really much. Izuku feels a slight sting of betrayal by Shouto but if he was really honest with himself, he was happy Shouto did that for him. Didn’t give him the right to meddle, Izuku thinks to himself. He hasn’t decided if he appreciates the fact that Kacchan is standing in his apartment or if he is absolutely freaking terrified.

“Do you want anything? Like, a change of clothes? Though I don’t know if I have anything you can fit into… Oh! Some tea? Or a shower! The hot water has been a little funky though, so maybe—”

“Deku,” Kacchan cuts in, a little irritated, but the wrinkle around his eyes is soft (is Izuku reading too much into it?) “It’s fine. A shower would be nice. Maybe a change of clothes, if you have anything.”

Izuku nods furiously, glad to be given something to do with hands, since he definitely does not know what he’s doing with this…whatever this was.

“The bathroom is over there,” Izuku points, hoping there’s nothing weird in there that Kacchan could probably tease about, since he totally would. “I’ll find some towels and a change of clothes.”

Kacchan nods once, his piercing eyes falling on his for a beat longer before he turns towards the direction of the bathroom. Izuku watches him as he goes, and Kacchan stops in front of the bathroom door. He looks at it, pausing. Kacchan’s mouth opens a little. Izuku waits for him in anticipation, but then Kacchan clamps his mouth shut and slides open the bathroom door without saying anything more.

“This is weird!” Izuku screeches into his phone. Ochako has the audacity to laugh. She’s definitely getting a kick out of imagining Bakugou Katsuki running around in a storm and standing in front of Izuku apartment like some romance drama. “Ochakooo,” Izuku whines, “Please! This is so anxiety-inducing, I don’t know what to do!”

“First of all, get him clothes. Though you could leave him in just a towel, if you’re into that.” She goes on, ignoring the “Ochako” reprimand Izuku gives her. “Maybe cook him dinner? Don’t kid with me, Izuku, I know you were just going to eat frickin’ instant ramen.”

“I—it’s not—it’s microwavable ramen soup,” he finally settles on, though that was the least of all the things he actually wanted to say. “It’s healthier.”

“Izuku, honestly, haven’t you been waiting for this for almost three years?”

It was. Ever since that day when Izuku spelled out all his feelings, all his vulnerabilities, and Kacchan had took all of it and turned away.

“It’s…” He curls his fingers into a fist around his comforter on the bed. “It is…but I…I don’t know if I can go through that again.”

Nights in his bed, face in his pillow. Days where he felt empty, and all of despite of Ochako’s attempts at cheering him up, it hurt.

“Getting over him was so hard,” Izuku whispers, feeling at tears. God, Kacchan’s going to laugh when he realizes Izuku is still such a crybaby. “Ochako, I don’t know if I can do it again.” Heavy breaths makes it between the receiver, and Izuku is one sentence away from breaking down.

“Izuku, can I say something?” Ochako asks quietly after a pregnant pause. Izuku sniffles and nods, which she can’t see, and mumbles a yes instead. “It’s been more than two and a half years since you last saw each other. Like, really saw each other, and not just on the news or barely getting a glance at some battle or afterparty. And he came to you, Izuku. He obviously wants something, and we both know what it is.

“And if I’m really honest, Izuku…you never got over him. You know you didn’t, and this is your chance at closure.”

“Closure,” Izuku repeats, scoffing. “Like that’s easy.”

“Of course not, but at least, hear him out. Don’t kick him out after dinner or avoid talking to him.” Knowing Izuku is going to deny that, she continues quickly, “He came to you first, remember that. And when you came to him all those years ago, he at least heard you out, even if what he did afterwards was definitely shitty.”

“It was so shitty of him, that asshole,” Izuku cries, though he’s laughing a little. “Fine, I’ll hear him out, though he really doesn’t deserve it.”

“Good. Go get him his clothes. If you still want a some revenge, though, you can give him an ex’s sweatshirt you probably still keep—”

“Goodbye, Ochako!” Izuku almost yells into the phone. She laughs, saying something like, call me afterwards, okay? and he mumbles a fine before hanging up.

Izuku stares at the closet in front of him. He gets up from his bed and walks over, rummaging through a stack of clothes that have nothing in common except for the fact that it used to be someone else’s.

Kacchan’s dark, red hoodie sits at the bottom of the pile, but instead of grabbing the hoodie Izuku never returned, he feels a little spiteful and grabs a bright blue t-shirt from the top instead.

“You’re right, your hot water is shitty. It spurts out fucking scalding but then fizzles to freezing.”

Izuku sheepishly laughs, stirring the hot water with a tea bag. “Yeah, sorry about that.” He holds the mug up, turning around towards the direction Kacchan’s coming from. “I made you tea, though I don’t know what you like, so it’s just green—”

Izuku is no stranger to nudity, but when Bakugou Katsuki walks around in your apartment with nothing but sweats and a towel around his neck, you’re bound to be a little shocked. Izuku manages to ask through his gaping mouth, “I gave you a shirt though?”

Kacchan looks pissed at Izuku’s reaction. “Deku, I wasn’t going to fit into that. Sweats, though, had that string thingie so I just loosened it.”

Somehow Kacchan’s snarky attitude brings a little confidence to his own lips, because Izuku replies, “Right, I forgot how you liked to parade around shirtless.”

“I didn’t parade around shirtless—”

“You sure did love showing off your arms all the time, what with your hero costume and all. Did you make any adjustments since then?”

Irked, Kacchan seethes, “It had to be sleeveless to make room for my grenades. And you know I did.”

If he’s referring to how Izuku still stalks every hero out there and makes analysis books out of them, Izuku isn’t acknowledging it. Instead he cheekily goes on, “And all those times you checked yourself out in the locker room?”

It’s fun goading Kacchan, because Izuku isn’t the scared kid he was in highschool and he knows the enraged reactions Kacchan gives aren’t really filled with malice, like they used to be.

“If I remember correctly, you were also checking me out.”

And there it is.

Izuku was expecting it, because there’s no dancing around whatever this was between them. He steeled himself to look at Kacchan, but of course, after a beat of staring into his eyes, Izuku looks away.

“That would make two of us,” Izuku mumbles, since although he mentally prepared himself, Izuku can’t always speak with sass.

“What was that?” Kacchan demands, finally taking the steaming mug out of Izuku’s hands. He sets it on Izuku’s small kitchen table and pulls out a chair. “Speak up, nerd. You’re always mumbling.”

“Can you put something on? You just came from a rainstorm and took a shower in freezing water, are you looking to get a cold?”

“I’m not weak enough to lose to a cold.”

Izuku snorts.

“You were always the one without self-perseverance,” Kacchan adds and moves to take the wet towel around his shoulders and wrap it around himself.

“Wait,” Izuku stops him, “I think I might have a sweater you might fit into.” He scampers down the hallway and into his bedroom.

“Then why didn’t you give that to me first, dumbass,” Kacchan shouts after him. Izuku reemerges with Kacchan’s red sweater that was on the bottom of the pile and hates it over, a little embarrassed but mostly annoyed.

“So that’s where that was,” he says nonchalantly. He slips it on easily, but still keeps the towel around his neck. “Why did you keep this?”

What a loaded question. Ignoring him and a little miffed, Izuku says, “Drink your tea. It’ll warm you up.”

Kacchan rolls his eyes but doesn’t push. “Did you eat dinner yet?” he asks Izuku, wiping his hair a little with the towel and—ugh, Izuku forgot how hot that was.

“No, I was going to make noodles before you came.” Izuku stomps over to the kitchen. “Do you want some?”

“It’s not instant is it?”

Izuku laughs, a little nervously. “Microwavable?”

“That’s just the same damn thing!”

Izuku is ready to argue, the words “it’s more fresh and has less preservatives!” ready on this tongue, when Kacchan stomps past him and throws open his refrigerator door.

“Could you not destroy my apartment, please?” Izuku mutters behind him.

“It’s a freaking mess, anyways.”

“Hey!” Izuku shouts, offended. “I keep it clean! Sure, I have a lot of stuff everywhere, but it’s a contained mess.”

Kacchan looks at him in deadpan then nods to his kitchen counter. Various containers of rice, sugar, and the like are scattered around it, not dirty, but definitely not organized.

Izuku crosses his arms, defiant. “So what? You barge into my apartment after not speaking to me for three years and judge the way I live my life?”

“You shouldn’t be surprised by that by now.”

“Shouldn’t I? It’s not like we’ve been talking for the past couple years.”

Kacchan flinches. Actually flinches. Izuku feels a rush of satisfaction.

“Here,” Kacchan snaps, in lieu of a real reply, and points to the frozen udon Izuku has laid out earlier, “if you just boil these noodles—which is also unhealthy as fuck—and just add soy sauce and some vegetables…”

Kacchan moves expertly with the ingredients, and it annoys Izuku to no end. Who did Kacchan think he was parading in his kitchen like he owns the place? And he had to be good at cooking, too, fuck him.

So Izuku is a little spiteful. Was that any surprise?

When Kacchan is finished, he grabs the first two bowls he sees—which don’t match and are a little chipped, much to Izuku’s chagrin—and lays the meal on the dinner table. He takes a seat first. Izuku sits across from him, feeling out of place in his own apartment.

“Thanks for the food,” Kacchan mutters. Izuku does the same, barely murmuring the words. They dig in, no other talk in between them.

After they’re done, the silence and tension in between them thick with their history, Izuku moves to take the bowls to their sink. Kacchan stops him with a swat with his hand, and grabs all the silverware. “I’ll wash.”

As Kacchan’s working, Izuku idles beside him, his mind whirring. Why is Kacchan not saying anything? Was he expecting Izuku to say something first? That’s low, if that was what he’s expecting. Kacchan came to his apartment, Izuku owes the pro hero nothing.

But after more minutes of tense silence and Izuku sees Kacchan is almost done cleaning up, Izuku’s anxiety caves first.

“Were you just in the area?”

“On a business trip,” Kacchan answers him, surprisingly. “An exchange with Todoroki’s agency.”

“How is he?” He hasn’t seen his good friend in a while; they’ve both been busy with their own lives as heroes.

“What’s with this small talk?” Kacchan cuts in. “Cut that bullshit with me. Aren’t you going to ask why I’m here?”

“You’re such a polite guest.” He rolls his eyes. Why is Kacchan here? They both knew. Izuku didn’t want to face it--face that consequences and possibilities that might lead to. But there’s no denying his curiosity as to why Kacchan made to move tonight to visit him.

Still, he’s not brave enough to turn around and ask him that directly. So instead, Izuku clenches the napkin left on the dinner table around his fist. “Why?” he demands.

His words are cold, harsh. Izuku winces mentally at the tone, but he doesn’t take it back.

There’s a long period of nothing but the water running. Kacchan stubbornly looks only at the dishes he’s washing and Izuku’s itching to scream, Well?

Finally, the water turns off. Kacchan turns around. Izuku prepares walls around his heart.

“Am I not allowed to see you?”

He repeats, flatly, “To see me.”

“I—fuck, Izuku,” Kacchan says, and he hates how his heart stumbles a little at his name. Izuku. He misses it.

He misses what they had so much, it hurts.

He misses him.

“I missed you, okay?”

Izuku’s mouth falls open and he blinks. All of his mental preparation would’ve never been enough for this.

“I made a stupid—a stupid mistake,” Kacchan grits out, “because I was…” An explosion forms within Kacchan’s clenched fist but Izuku doesn’t jump. That’s hardly a surprise, considering everything else that has happened tonight. “‘Cause I was scared, alright?” Kacchan yells. “You were always—always so—”

And Izuku’s reaching forward to touch him before he even knows what he’s doing—

“Stop that,” Kacchan growls, stopping Izuku’s face with a hand and Izuku’s body with a foot. “I’m trying to apologize for fuck’s sake, can you stop ruining it with your sappiness for one second.”

“Bub Kacchab,” he protests, or tries to, with Kacchan’s squeezing his cheeks between his fingers and palm. The undeniable smell of nitroglycerin fills his senses, which is pretty horrible, to be frank. Izuku moves Kacchan’s grip off of him.

Kacchan’s hand wrestles with his for a second before grabbing onto Izuku’s wrist and stopping him with a hard look. “No, this is my time, sit down and listen.”

Izuku obeys, still shell-shocked. Kacchan takes a labored breath, visibly nervous. And for the first time in years, Izuku can tell that Kacchan is afraid.

“Fucking Deku, you were always running ahead of me, and it pissed me off. Even though I was always shit to you, you came back, and when we were finally partners, finally that dumb Wonder Duo shit that All Might always said we could be…You had to go run ahead again and—and—

“You once told me you loved me,” Kacchan begins instead, as if they both didn’t know that already. “If I said the same now, would you tell me that again?”

Izuku’s heart stops. That’s the only viable reason for the way his hands shake, the tears that form around his eyes, but it couldn’t be, for the simple fact that for the first time since that day Kacchan walked away from him after Izuku spilled his heart, he felt like he could breathe.

“I…” Izuku says, because he really doesn’t know what to say. His breathing is short, and he feels his heart racing faster than he thought possible. “I…” Izuku tilts his head up and looks into Kacchan’s burning eyes. “You have to say it first.”

There’s a pause and even though it’s only for a beat, it shakes him. But then Kacchan makes a sound between a scoff and a laugh and says, “You are so damn needy.”

Izuku is ready to protest when he sees Kacchan’s eyes. The look in Kacchan’s eyes is one Izuku knows he’ll never forget, even after so many years, because it’s the look of fiery will, challenging and unrelenting.

“Izuku, I love you.”

Barely a murmur, but it’s shakingly loud in Izuku’s ears.

Izuku shakes his wrist until Kacchan lets go of his grip. Rather than letting him retract his hand, Izuku slides his fingers between Kacchan’s, letting it sit between them.

He leans forward without thinking and Kacchan’s there to meet him halfway, and it really is like just how it was three years ago. Fingers laced, bodies entangled, whispered words late at night, waiting until everyone else left the locker room…

A spat in the front of school grounds, Izuku begging Kacchan to stay, Kacchan pushing him, turning away—

Izuku pulls back.

“Y-you can’t do that,” Izuku complains stubbornly, his mind at war with his heart. Kacchan looks shell-shocked, his ears and neck red, with attraction or anger, Izuku can’t tell. Kacchan’s stance tells him he’s ready to fight, but Izuku beats him to it. “You can’t just not talk to me for three years, and then waltz back like you own my goddamn life—”

“—You were the one who kissed me—”

“Do you know how heartbroken I was, Kacchan?”

“I told you I was sorry!” Kacchan is yelling.

“That’s not enough!” Izuku is yelling back. He’s not even sure what he’s saying, because he wants Kacchan’s apology to be enough, wants him, but now Izuku is the one that’s scared. “When you left when you did…I can’t stand it if you left again.”

Kacchan’s hand reaches forward but Izuku tenses. He freezes, and his hand curls back into a fist in the air. “I’m not going anywhere this time.”

Izuku looks up at him, tears spilling over and down his face. “Don’t lie.”

“I’m not!” Kacchan stands up, furious, the force of which knocking his chair over. “Do you really think I’d come all the way here, say a bunch of embarrassing shit, and not mean it? Fuck, what do you take me for?”

Unrelenting, Izuku mutters, “A coward.”

Kacchan reaches forward, blindingly fast, and his fist wraps around the collar of Izuku’s shirt. “Say that to me again.”

“It’s nice to see that three years hasn’t done anything for your anger.” Izuku glares at him. “I said you were a coward, Kacchan. For a pro hero, for someone who is undaunted in the face of evil, you ran away a lot.”

“Shut up—”

“I told you I loved you, you didn’t have to say it back Kacchan, but did you really have to leave?”

“You are so goddamn finicky, if you didn’t love me, you shouldn’t have kissed me, or pretended that you did.”

“Pretend?” Izuku laughs, the sound berating and harsh, even in his own ears. “Of course I love you!”

Kacchan stills. The air between them stops moving.

“Of course I love you,” Izuku repeats, and this is not how he wanted to say it. “But last time I told you I loved you, you ran away. What will happen this time? If I asked you if you wanted to move in together, will you leave again? If I asked you to stay with me and grow old together, what will you say then?”

There’s silence.

“If I asked you trust me completely, could you?”

This time, Kacchan pushes against Izuku’s chest until he’s sitting down again. “Yes, you idiot nerd, I can!”

Izuku grabs hold of Kacchan’s hand and pushes it away with anger. “Because I can’t, Kacchan! I can’t trust you again, not after everything! We haven’t seen or talked to each other in three years.” He’s flatout crying now, the tears burning his cheeks just as his voice makes his throat burn. “You asked me if I love you, and I do. After everything, I still do, but…”

He stares hard into Kacchan’s eyes. “But things change. I’ve changed.” A harsh breath rags his throat as Izuku attempts to regain control of steady circulation. “When the storm lets up, please leave. This time, I’m asking you to.”

Izuku gets up from the kitchen table and walks away. Now, he wants nothing but to lock himself in his room and cry, but of course, Kacchan has other thoughts. A firm hand grabs at his wrist, hard enough to hurt.

“No, Deku, you can’t just—how can you just…Stop moving!” he yells as Izuku pries his tight fingers off. “Deku! I thought you loved me, how can you just walk away?”

“Because, Kacchan!” Izuku swivels around to glare at his childhood friend, his former bully, his rival, his partner. What could’ve been, anyways. His next words burn his throat before he even says it.

“I don’t want to love you anymore.”

#dailywonderduo #bakudeku #katsudeku #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #boku no hero academia #bnha fic #my fics #also tumblr mobile sucks?? no blockquote or read more or insert line #i cant fit the whole thing in this post on mobile pls read on ao3

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