𝔸 𝔾𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕎𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕎𝕒𝕤 𝕆𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕄𝕚𝕟𝕖 𝕍.𝟚 💥𝔹𝕜𝔻𝕜💥

Chapter 37

Extra long chapter with more goodies and foreshadowing. hehe, enjoy!

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To Be A Hero

The days blurred together, weeks passing in a haze, and Katsuki could no longer ignore the changes in Izuku. The damn nerd was finally crawling back from that edge, no longer looking like he was one step away from disappearing for good. The exhaustion that had clung to him like a second skin was starting to peel away, revealing the Izuku Katsuki knew—the one with that stubborn fire in his eyes. Though there were still moments when he had a hard time mentally, seeing that familiar smile, even in flashes, was a relief Katsuki had come to embrace. It was like watching the sun break through storm clouds, bit by bit. He should've been glad, and hell, he was. But something in him ached, too.

With Christmas and the new year creeping closer, Katsuki found himself caught between relief and something that felt like loss. Izuku was alive, he was getting better, and dammit that should've been enough for him. But Katsuki couldn't help but feel that a piece of the old Izuku was being left behind. It was as if a part of him had died with him back in the collapse, and the Izuku who had come back was just a little... hollow. Katsuki couldn't help missing the old days—the rivalry that pushed them both, the moments at UA when they'd been equals in their own twisted way. Those memories felt distant now, like they were slipping through his fingers, and it pissed him off. He wanted to hold onto what they had, the bond forged in fire and blood, but he knew he had to be grateful for the Izuku standing in front of him, even if it wasn't quite the same.

But as Izuku grew stronger, Katsuki felt himself unraveling. That fight with the League of Villains at the park—it stuck with him, haunting him. He couldn't shake the paranoia as it cranked up to a whole new level, couldn't stop feeling like they were being watched, hunted. The League had gone deafly silent, but Katsuki knew they were fucking out there, waiting, and the thought of them coming for Izuku again made him squirm. The heroes were doing everything they could, but it wasn't enough to calm the storm raging in Katsuki's chest. The fear that they'd lose Izuku, that he'd lose Izuku, kept him up at night, the weight of it pressing down on him like a damn boulder.

Sleep became a joke. Every time Katsuki closed his eyes, his mind turned into a battlefield, filled with images of Izuku slipping away, dragged into the dark, while Katsuki stood helpless. He'd wake up, heart racing, drenched in sweat, and no matter how hard he tried to push those thoughts away, they always came back. He'd try to shove those thoughts away, to slam the damn door on the creeping danger, but that fucking shadow was relentless. It danced on the edges of his mind reminding him of his fears and PTSD.

During the day, he kept up the front, because that's what he did. He was Katsuki Bakugo, after all. He was supposed to be strong, unbreakable. But when the world went quiet, when it was just him and his thoughts, he couldn't hide from the truth. He was scared—scared of losing the one person he'd spent his whole life pushing away, only to realize too late how much he had really mattered.

Izuku could see right through Katsuki's front, even in the dead of night, those green eyes could see the exhaustion etched into Katsuki's face, the tension in his every movement.  It tore at Izuku, knowing that his recovery was the source of Katsuki's torment, that his getting better was causing Katsuki to spiral.

One night, as they lay side by side, Katsuki wide awake and staring at the ceiling, Izuku finally broke the silence. He couldn't ignore the elephant in the room any longer. His voice was soft, almost tentative, but there was a strength behind it—a strength Katsuki knew all too well.

Katsuki felt the bed shift beside him as Izuku scooted closer, the warmth of his body pressing against his side. He watched from the corner of his eye as Izuku rested his head on his chest, the soft strands of his hair brushing against Katsuki's skin. "Kacchan," Izuku whispered, his fingers drawing idle circles on his abdomen, a soothing motion that he now often used to try to comfort him. "I know you're worried about me," Izuku's voice broke the silence again, soft but steady. "And everything that's been happening these last few months... but you don't have to be anymore. I'm mostly recovered now, and I can take care of myself."