Chapter 13

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THE HERMIT

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Chapter 13


Katsuki kissed him like nothing else fucking mattered.

Like the rest of the world could fall away mid-scream and he wouldn't give a damn. Like no one else existed, not the whispers, not the gasps, not the squeak of slippers on concrete as heads turned to gawk like they were watching some drama unfold for free.

It didn't matter; all that existed was this.

Him.

Izuku.

And the taste of silence, heartbreak, and a quiet, seething fuck you for leaving me laced in every damn breath. For disappearing. For dying. For always looking at him like Katsuki still meant something. Like he was still the one constant in whatever fractured parallel they'd landed in.

Izuku stiffened against him at first, reflex, maybe or shock, Katsuki didn't know. His hands twitched at his sides, caught between fight, flight, or collapse. But then, slow, shakily, like his body remembered before his brain could catch up, he leaned into it. Just barely. A tremor of movement, a ghost of a yes.

Katsuki didn't know how long he held it, didn't care. Let it be long enough to burn it into both of them. When he finally pulled back, it was like tearing himself off a ledge. His chest was heaving and his blood roared loudly in his ears. Every cell in him screamed something between finally and what the fuck did I just do.

And Izuku—

Izuku looked wrecked.

Wide green eyes blinking up at him, dazed, pupils blown, stunned stupid. His lips were parted like he didn't even remember how to breathe. As if every single thought in that stupid head had gone silent and all that was left was the scorching heat Katsuki had left behind. His arms hung loosely, fingers curling and uncurling uselessly in the hem of Katsuki's sleeve like they couldn't decide whether to hold or let go.

Katsuki's hand hovered for a second longer, thumb brushing along the line of Izuku's cheek. Good. Let him feel it. He stepped back just enough to get a real good look at him, quickly scanned his face, checking for blood, bruises, anything out of place. Collar intact. No limp. No glassy film over his eyes, at least not the kind that meant he was injured. His hands were trembling a little, but that was normal for him when he was overwhelmed like the world weighed five tons again.

That was Izuku most of the time after taking a lethal blow, and Katsuki couldn't blame him. It's not easy getting back on your feet after dying. Other than that... other than the number stamped across his chest, 067, he was fine, he was here.

Katsuki was still staring, jaw clenching like he was trying to grind emotion back down into something useful, when the sound started to bleed back in and the murmuring started. It was low at first like the collective static of a crowd trying to make sense of a glitch in their narrative. A few voices muttered "Did you see that?" and "Are they...?"

"Kacchan..." Izuku finally managed to rasp, voice rough, like it scraped its way up from somewhere too deep to heal, flinching when he spoke, as if the act of forcing sound through his throat physically hurt him. His hand twitched, half-reaching for Katsuki's sleeve again before curling back in on itself. Katsuki leaned closer, hands also trembling slightly, body half-bracing for some kind of hit that wasn't coming.

Izuku swallowed hard, throat bobbing, chest shaking with the effort. "Wha-wha-what... what happened to you? In the last one—what... did they—?"

The crowd around them shifted as someone in the crowd overheard. "Last one? What the hell's he talking about?" Another voice cut in, sharp, annoyed. "This a simulation or something?"

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