Jumping Hurdles ; Bakudeku

5 Stages Of Grief

It was Monday morning and Katsuki couldn't bring himself to open his eyes. His bed was empty and so was his chest. He couldn't think of anything but Izuku's tearful eyes as he begged him to leave him alone.

Izuku didn't want to see him. But oh, Katsuki so desperately wanted to see him.

Izuku was his best friend. He could say it. Izuku was his best fucking friend. He was the guy he wanted to spend the most time with. He was the guy Katsuki tolerated the most. But where does the line between best friend and boyfriend end? (Not that they were boyfriends anymore. That much was obvious.)

Katsuki had never believed in the whole 'Fake it till you make it' thing. He thought it was bullshit. But All Katsuki knew how to give were lustful touches. With Izuku, he learned to fake soft ones. That was until they weren't fake anymore. That was until Katsuki began to crave the buzz of Izuku's skin, the warmth of his body, the sensation of his soft lips against his. That was until he realized how perfectly their hands fit together as if they were made to hold one another.

Katsuki didn't get out of bed. He didn't even think about it. He couldn't. Not when he knew that Izuku didn't want to see him. Not when he knew that he was hated by the one person he grew to care about most. He didn't want to see anyone. He didn't want to talk to anyone or answer their calls. (not that he could. His phone still was broken.)

Katsuki had never been one to wallow in self-pity. He never dwelled on the past or regretted anything. Because the past was the past. Forgive forget, he would say. There was no use in wishing you could go back and change it because it already happened. But this was different. It was all he could think of. All the things he could have done differently. To keep himself from hurting Izuku. To keep himself from ruining everything. He wanted to go back and not accept that bet. He wanted to go back and finally see Izuku as a lover and not a tedious task. Not a hurdle to jump.

He wished he could go back. He dwelled on it. Drowned in it. Choked on it.

Katsuki wished he could go back to when things were good. Where he could touch Izuku's face, and cup his world in his hands. Because yes, Izuku was his world. Where he could tease him and not have to worry about hurting him. Where he could lay in his bed and watch scary movies and not think of life's problems. Where he could feel his eyes on him as he watched Katsuki run during his track meets. Where he could look into Izuku's eyes and see life rather than sadness and anger.

Katsuki knew he had it bad. He had it bad even if he didn't know what 'it' was.

Even though Katsuki could get lost in the constellations of Izuku's freckles, he still couldn't tell the difference between romantic or platonic attraction. Even though he feels the love buzz under his skin every time Izuku gets close enough...he still wasn't sure. Even though the emerald green of his eyes is the most beautiful color he's ever seen...he still didn't know.

Izuku Midoriya was beautiful. He looked prettiest when he smiled under the moonlight. He looked prettiest when he drowned in the bedsheets in his room, messy bed head pointing every which way. He looked prettiest when he looked at Katsuki. He looked prettiest when he was happy.

Katsuki was at the point in his life where he could admit all of this. He thought Izuku was the prettiest boy he'd ever seen. There was never one day where Izuku didn't look perfect. He just always does.

It was only then that Katsuki realized that he would give up everything he had to keep Izuku happy. That thought was almost as devastating as losing him.

Izuku wanted to know what Katsuki's definition of love was?

Well...it was him.

Katsuki's definition of love was Izuku Midoriya as a whole. It was the way he felt like home, nostalgic and comforting. A place he could always fall back to. It was the way his skin soaked up the moonlight, freckles shining brighter than any star he'd ever seen. It was the way he threw his head back as he laughed, squeezing his eyes closed. It was the way his lips formed into a small Barely-there pout as Katsuki ruffled his hair. It was the way he tried to keep up with Katsuki as they ran under the street lights. It was the way he turned red at every subtle touch of Katsuki's fingers. It was the way his pupils blew wide after every kiss. It was the way he ate plain vanilla ice cream with absolutely no toppings. It was the way he drowned his pancakes in strawberry syrup.