Catch Your Breath (BAKUDEKU)

18

Hours later, Katsuki found himself walking aimlessly through the city streets, the cold night air providing a fleeting reprieve from the inferno raging inside him. Izuku's distraught messages and missed calls bombarded his phone like relentless Quirk attacks, each notification a painful reminder of the chasm he'd driven between them.

"I'm such a goddamn idiot," Katsuki thought, clenching his fists and gritting his teeth as he berated himself internally. "He trusted me enough to show me his scars, and this is how I repay him? By turning it all around on myself?"

He stopped in front of a dimly lit convenience store window, his reflection distorted in the foggy glass. Red-rimmed eyes met his, framed by exhaustion and regret. His hair stuck up in disheveled spikes, mirroring the chaos in his mind. He sighed heavily, slumping against the cold surface. "What the hell am I supposed to do now?" he muttered to his distorted reflection.

His hands shook as he pulled out his phone, scrolling through the sea of missed messages. Ignoring Izuku forever wasn't an option, but apologizing felt like trying to patch up a gaping wound with band-aids and empty promises. His thumb hovered over the call button for a long moment, indecision warring within him. Finally, he sucked in a shaky breath and pressed it, his heart pounding like a drumroll in his chest. The ringing echoed in his ears, each passing second stretching out like an eternity. When Izuku's tired voice finally answered, Katsuki swallowed the lump in his throat. "Izuku..."

"What do you want?" Izuku's voice was clipped and cold, sharper than the icicles forming on the rooftops above them. The harshness of his tone pierced through Katsuki like a thousand needles, guilt and regret pooling in his stomach like a venomous concoction. He deserved it though—no, he deserved worse. He'd hurt Izuku in ways his explosions never could.

Swallowing his pride, Katsuki lowered his gaze to the ground, scuffing his boot against the frozen pavement. "I'm...sorry." His apology came out stilted and forced, like a confession torn from his lips. "I didn't mean to—"

Izuku cut him off with a frustrated sigh. "Just...don't, Katsuki. I don't want your pity." His words stung like acid, burning through Katsuki's fragile attempts at contrition.

"Fuck!" Katsuki gritted his teeth, clenching his phone tightly enough to crack the casing. He needed to make Izuku understand—not just apologize, but truly convey the depth of his regret and the desperation clawing at his soul. "It's not pity, dammit!" he snapped, frustration boiling over. "It's...I just—"

He broke off, struggling to put his tangled emotions into coherent words. He loved Izuku more than he'd ever admitted—to himself or anyone else. The thought of losing him to his own darkness terrified him more than any villain ever could.

He took a calming breath, trying again. "I'm sorry for making it about me. For pushing you away when you needed me most." Silence stretched between them, taut as a bowstring pulled tight. Snowflakes began to fall around him, melting against the heat radiating from his body like his resolve was melting under Izuku's icy gaze.

"I...I just want to help you," Katsuki continued, voice quieter now, vulnerability seeping through cracks in his armor. "Please, Izuku...let me in."

...

Katsuki trudged through the snow-covered streets, his heavy boots leaving prints behind like a trail of broken promises. His thoughts were consumed by Izuku's distant tone and harsh words, each step weighted by the burden of his guilt. Finally, he stood before their apartment building, the familiar sight offering little comfort. Climbing the stairs felt like ascending a mountain, his legs leaden and unwilling to carry him to the confrontation awaiting him. He hesitated outside their door, his hand hovering over the handle. With a deep breath, he pushed it open, bracing himself for the worst.

The sight that greeted him was far from what he expected. Izuku stood in the dim hallway, his eyes red-rimmed and puffy from crying. He looked exhausted, defeated—but instead of anger, Katsuki saw raw vulnerability etched into his features. Before Katsuki could utter a single apology, Izuku's arms wrapped around him like iron bands, pulling him into a fierce embrace. His body reacted instinctively, arms encircling Izuku's trembling frame as he held him close, trying to absorb the pain radiating off him. Izuku's cold lips pressed against Katsuki's in a desperate, bruising kiss, silencing any protests Katsuki might have had. Surprise morphed into relief as he reciprocated, his own pent-up emotions spilling into the kiss like lava from a volcano. Izuku's taste was bitter and sweet, like the tears Katsuki knew still clung to his lips.

Fuck, he loved him. The thought crashed into him like a tidal wave, drowning out everything else. He deepened the kiss, needing to erase the distance he'd created between them. His hands slid down Izuku's back, tracing over the contours of his muscles, memorizing every curve and dip like braille on a page he'd never read enough. When they finally broke apart, breathless and panting, Katsuki whispered against Izuku's lips, "I'm sorry." This time, the words felt raw and honest, stripped bare of all the pride and fear that had choked them earlier. He meant it—every syllable, every breathless plea. He was sorry for pushing him away, for letting his own demons dictate their relationship.

"I know," Izuku replied softly, his voice trembling with the weight of their shared pain and newfound understanding.