Frenzy

|CHAPTER 14|: Duality

It had only been two days since Izuku agreed to Katsuki's deal, but he was already regretting it. Sitting in his clinic, his fingers drummed against his desk as he tried to focus on the stack of patient files in front of him. But no matter how much he tried to force himself to work, his thoughts kept drifting back to Katsuki. The smug look on his face when he proposed the deal, the casual way he assumed Izuku would drop everything whenever he called—it was all replaying in Izuku's mind like a broken record.

It didn't help that Katsuki had already tested the waters by calling him for trivial reasons. Once, it was a complaint about a muscle cramp that "might" turn into something serious. Another time, it was just to mention some soreness in his leg. It was obvious Katsuki didn't really need him, but Izuku couldn't ignore the calls. He needed the money, and it was part of their deal, after all. But each time he picked up the phone and heard Katsuki's voice, that annoying mix of irritation and unwanted attraction gnawed at him even more.

Izuku rubbed at his temples, trying to push those thoughts aside. "Focus, Midoriya," he muttered to himself. But even in the middle of appointments with other patients, his mind kept wandering back to Katsuki. His frustration with himself was almost palpable. He hated that Katsuki had this effect on him—hated that he was letting the past resurface and cloud his judgment. Worse, he hated that small part of him that didn't entirely mind being around Katsuki again.

The real kicker, though, was that Katsuki seemed to think he was only in this for the money. Izuku clenched his jaw every time that thought crossed his mind. Sure, the commission was paying him well for these sessions, and he desperately needed that income for his mom's treatment. But the idea that Katsuki could brush off any other reason for Izuku's presence—it stung. What irritated Izuku even more was the fear creeping into his chest: the fear that this deal would drag him even closer to Katsuki than he could handle. Because if it did, Izuku wasn't sure he'd be able to keep his emotions in check this time.

Izuku couldn't afford to let those feelings resurface, not after all this time. He was a professional, and he had to stay detached. But even as he told himself that, the memories of the last session—the heat of Katsuki's skin under his fingers, the weight of their silence—kept haunting him. He knew he was playing with fire, and every instinct screamed at him to back out now, before it was too late. But he'd already agreed, and the money was too important to walk away from.

The second night after agreeing to the deal, Izuku lay in bed staring at the ceiling, sleep refusing to come. His thoughts were a chaotic mess of frustration, anxiety, and something else—something he didn't want to name. The tension between them was already unbearable, and it was only going to get worse. He turned over in bed, pulling the covers up over his head as if that could block out the mess in his mind. How did he get himself into this situation? He was supposed to be over this, supposed to be beyond caring about what Katsuki did or didn't feel. But the prospect of being forced into even more close, personal sessions with Katsuki was tying his emotions into knots.

Katsuki leaned back in his office chair, hands clasped behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling. He couldn't help the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. The deal had gone just as he wanted. He knew how to push Midoriya's buttons, knew exactly how to get him to agree to something even when the omega was clearly reluctant. It felt good—satisfying, even—to have that control. Now he could get Midoriya to show up when he wanted, no questions asked. His plan was working.

And yet... there was a niggling feeling at the back of his mind. Something uncomfortable. Something that felt a lot like regret.

Katsuki's brow furrowed as he let out a sharp breath, trying to ignore the unease settling in his chest. It was stupid. He got what he wanted, didn't he? Midoriya was in his grasp again, forced to be at his beck and call. There was a twisted sense of satisfaction in that—knowing that no matter how much Midoriya tried to keep his distance, he couldn't resist when Katsuki put the pressure on. But even as Katsuki tried to savor that victory, there was a bitterness to it.