From The Sidelines.

The Lighthouse.

The drive back from the flower field was awkward, and that was disheartening considering that they haven't been truly awkward around each other since the drive to Hana's Diner the very first time they hung out. They were both quiet in their seats, unsure of what exactly there is to say, and even the smallest bump in the road scared Izuku, as they drove back without music.

What was even more disheartening was the crash that came following the high of having sex with Katsuki.

As they sit quietly in the car, Izuku wonders to himself how he got to this point. How he ended up underneath Katsuki like that. Breathing heavily into the other's ear as he gets torn apart in the best way like that. Handing himself over to the domains of pleasure in a strictly erotic dance with Katsuki's body like that. Gripping the blonde's shoulders like that. Running his nails down Katsuki's back, leaving angry red lines down his shoulders, like that.

And that was when Izuku's gut twisted all over again, as he is reminded of the evening at the beach when he saw those same red lines on Katsuki's back, due to someone else.

And he comes to realization now that he, Midoriya Izuku, is now just a name added to a list. A list that had plenty of others before him, and will have plenty of others after him. Izuku's eyes widened at this thought, and he gripped the hem of his own pants to prevent a small cry of pain from slipping through his lips. He was essentially shirtless, considering that Katsuki had torn it off of him in the heat of the moment.

The thought didn't settle well in his already fragile heart. The thought that nothing Izuku did tonight was new to Katsuki, or special. Not in the way it was for him. The way Izuku kissed him, touched him, took him in, were sensations Katsuki had felt already numerous times with other people. People who were better, had more experience, who knew exactly what to do and how to do it.

God, he felt like a fool. He felt heat rise to his cheeks as his retrospective embarassement made it hard for him to breathe. Compared to Bakugo Katsuki, whose hands were full of experience and whose body knew exactly where to move at all times, Izuku probably seemed like a fool.

He was just another name on a list. Great, Izuku thought to himself, so this was what it was like to have fucked Katsuki. He wonders if everyone else whose slept with the blonde had felt this sense of existential doom. He was probably the least experienced out of the people who the other slept with, and Izuku wondered if Katsuki knew it.

"What is it," Katsuki finally said the first words of the night since they've gotten in the car. The road back was bitch black, and the crickets' song was haunting. The blonde's voice sounded tired and low, and his eyes were still trained on the road, face expressionless. Of course it would be.

Izuku didn't think he was making his internal anxiety obvious, so with a forced confident voice, the greenette asked, "What do you mean?"

Katsuki didn't fall for it, and a moment later, said, "Your pants are going to rip off if you grip it any tighter. You're breathing heavier. And you look like you need to throw up." He said in a monotonous voice.

Izuku looked down at his lap, and very softly laughed with no humor, "For someone who pretends to be nonchalant about everything, you've been watching me pretty closely, Kacchan."

To this, Katsuki only had this to offer, "I'm just making sure you're not getting any wrong ideas about what happened."

This made Izuku both more sad and angry.

"Wrong ideas?" Izuku asked, "Geez, Kacchan. Do you get this paranoid about every piece of meat that you fuck?" He knew his words were harsh.

"Piece of-" Katsuki's eyes darkened, "Oi, Deku, wha-"