Archive of Our Own

The rain becomes much heavier with Izuku’s question, filling the void of silence between them. Katsuki gapes from his position just under him, body going limp and lifeless, as though he couldn’t believe what Izuku was asking of him.

Izuku can’t quite believe himself, either.

They had spent years, decades even, dancing around one another with very little time spent understanding where the other was coming from. Izuku had done his best to not let Katsuki’s bullying get the better of him, and he wasn’t one to give up on his dreams. Against all odds, Izuku fought to stand amongst the best of them, to become a hero - and Katsuki defied him for as long as he could.

The hatred that Katsuki felt for Izuku was something he only came to understand once he was at a level playing field to his former friend. That first year at U.A. had been filled with surprises, but the one that rocked Izuku to his core the most was when he finally began to understand Bakugou Katsuki and his unfounded hatred - hatred that stemmed from his own insecurities rather than something unforgivable Izuku had done.

Izuku was willing to believe things were better between them after that. There were moments he felt they’d fallen back into their unsteady and rocky rivalry, but they’d always bounce back soon after. Katsuki would be different, sure, but they would always, always come back to their tentative friendship, their amazing rivalry, and eventually their small partnership as heroes.

There were days towards the end of high school Katsuki would look at Izuku and it’d make his heart thump that much harder, his breath catch in his throat. But they would be fleeting, and within the days that followed, Katsuki’s gaze would inevitably return to his usual indifference and general disdain he felt towards everyone. Those small glances that set Izuku on edge would be easy to ignore, enough for him to avoid thinking of things he’d long since given up on - things he let his heart move away from long ago in middle school - and he could pretend that they didn’t happen.

Katsuki felt little for Izuku - a bit of nostalgia for their childhood friendship, maybe still some anger he never let go of, and an intense desire to compete with him, to be better than Izuku, were all easy enough to list off. He didn’t need Katsuki to spell it out for him, they weren’t quite friends. But he could still think of them as such, could still talk to and laugh with Katsuki as they moved forward as pros, as they grew closer as partners in the field. It was easy, it was good, and it meant nothing more to either of them.

Or so Izuku had thought.

Katsuki had been out of work for a few days for a surgery that no one knew the context of, and while their superiors weren’t concerned, Izuku had been on edge the whole time. He knew everything about Katsuki, from the smallest of details to the more intimate ones. Sure, there were things he didn’t know - nor did he need to - but something like a surgery seemed like an odd thing to not know about.

After Katsuki returned to work at the end of the week, he was distant. Izuku didn’t know what to make of it, but he had given him the space he apparently needed and by the following day Katsuki seemed like his old regular self again. A bit stilted at first, but things were back to normal by the time they were clocking out and heading home.

When another surgery came up soon after, Izuku was surprised. He asked around, but no one seemed to understand his urgency and just brushed it off. It didn’t help that Katsuki’s return was much later than the last, or that his first look at Izuku after he was released from the hospital seemed as though he was looking right through him.

It chilled Izuku through his entire being to have been looked at without any emotion in Katsuki’s eyes. Even after Katsuki came back to the office, worked alongside him, and slowly things returned to normal, Izuku would still wake in the night to the thought of those eyes.

The third surgery since they joined their agency came months later. The very thought of Katsuki’s gaze looking through Izuku spurred him on to snoop, and Izuku wonders now if he might have gone too far.

While Katsuki remained in the hospital to recover, Izuku let himself into Katsuki’s apartment with the spare key he was given. He felt guilt eating at him the further he walked in, but the memory of those eyes looking through him was enough to push him forward.

Katsuki’s apartment was meticulously cleaned, no documents detailing a surgery left out for Izuku to skim through. He’d pursed his lips and mumbled to himself all the places Katsuki would keep those sort of things. He started with the filing cabinet in Katsuki’s office - one drawer unlocked to find old comics and various magazines, the other locked tight. The key would be somewhere around there, so Izuku continued to snoop.

Checking under All Might figures and even a few of his own (to which he resolutely tried not to think about, considering he had figures of Katsuki and their friends, too) Izuku was able to locate a small key.

It didn’t unlock the filing cabinet.

Izuku cursed to himself and looked around, wondering what else the key could go to. There wasn’t anything inconspicuous in the office, so Izuku wandered around the apartment looking for any sort of lock the tiny key would connect to. Nothing stood out, and so he turned to the final place he would be able to search.

Katsuki’s bedroom - a place Izuku had never seen. At least, not in the apartment. He slowly pushed the door open and flicked on the light, not at all surprised by the simplicity of the room.

Dark bedspread, dark wooden furniture, a few more figures. Izuku smiled to himself, seeing a few of the figures were ones he shared in his own collection. All Might’s tiny figure smiled at him and Izuku had to shake his head to remind himself why he was there. Kneeling down, he peeked under the bed and was happy to find a simple box.

Pulling the box out from under the bed, Izuku heard a familiar rattle within that he couldn’t quite place. Frowning, he noted the lock at the top and quickly put the key into it.

A perfect fit.

Turning the key, Izuku held his breath and looked inside.

Notebooks.

Stacks and stacks of notebooks.

Just like the ones Izuku had kept throughout school, all with the same title, and up to at least volume 24.

Deku

Izuku blinked, sitting back on his heels as he stared into the box.

What did this mean…?

Izuku had swallowed down his nerves, a shaky hand reached in, and there was no going back as he opened to the first page of volume 24.

Last surgery, the 45th, took a toll on me. Doctors said it best not to let it happen again.
I can’t just forget him though. Reminder to read from volume 1. It only makes sense there.

Izuku ignored the reminder and went to the first entry, dated the day he looked through Izuku.

December 15th, xxxx Carnation
I love his smile. Even if I didn’t remember him when I saw him, he smiled and I could feel my heart skip. I didn’t know him and I still loved him.

Izuku immediately closed the book and stared at the title.

Loved him?

He wasn’t referring to Izuku. He couldn’t be.

Deku

The title taunted him. Izuku placed the 24th volume into the box and dug deeper, grabbing a more worn down journal.

Volume 13, still titled with his name.

Page one had a note about a recent surgery going over well, and another reminder to start at volume 1. Izuku ignored it and went to the entry - their graduation four years ago.

March 23rd, xxxx Red Camellia
Today would have been impossible if I didn’t get the chance to read these journals. I wouldn’t have known who he was when he talked to me.

I kept the malice up and he just laughed. I think I like the sound. He asked about what agency I’m going to and my stomach flipped. He didn’t know we were going to the same one, that I waited to know his choice to decide on mine. How stupid is that? I feel pretty stupid at least, but somehow I feel like he’s worth it.

He’s cuter than I thought he would be - nothing could have prepared me for that though. All freckles and dimples and smiles, bright eyes and fluffy, curled hair. Who the fuck said green hair could be cute? Fuck.

Izuku’s stomach hurt, the more he read. The description couldn’t have been about Izuku, not with the way Katsuki wrote about him, but who else did they know with curly green hair and freckles? Swallowing thickly, Izuku skimmed through the other entries - details of conversations they had, their time together at the agency, and occasional mentions of minor surgeries.

There were moments where Katsuki seemed to forget something, but he’d mention a previous volume and entry helped remember the details. Izuku frowned, trying to piece together what Katsuki was trying to say.

He set volume 13 back into the box and dug until he found the first volume - worn, ripped at the edges, yellowing pages… it was certainly from years ago, and flipping it open showed a long explanation with a date at the top. A little more than six years ago, in the middle of their first year.

Izuku bit his lip and began to read.

Hanahaki Disease
An illness born from unrequited love, where the afflicted person’s chest and throat will fill up with flowers. They will then proceed to vomit and cough up the petals, sometimes even an entire flower.
One of the only ways for the disease to ‘disappear’ is if the other person returns the feelings. It can’t be resolved with friendship, it has to be genuine feelings of love.
The infection can also be removed through surgery, though this will cause the afflicted person to forget everything about the one they loved.
If they choose neither option, or the feeling is not returned in time, then the patient’s lungs will fill up with flowers, and will eventually suffocate.

All this to explain that I, Bakugou Katsuki, have become afflicted with this disease.

Izuku had stared at that sentence for so long the words began to blur.

With a shaking breath, Izuku continued to read.

September 23rd, xxxx Yellow Camellia
Yesterday, while cleaning up after battle training, I began to violently cough. My friends took me to see Recovery Girl and she helped to remove the petal that was stuck in my throat. She sent my friends away and explained to me what it all meant, and was able to identify the flower for me. It was a yellow camellia flower, meaning longing.

I never would have imagined I would long for Midoriya Izuku.

Izuku shook, dropping the book and holding his hands to his mouth. He could barely breathe, his stomach twisting with every new piece of information he’d gained from this old, old entry.

He could barely see as he took hold of the book again, trying to skim through the rest of the first ever entry about himself. Izuku already could guess at what the books were for, from the mentions of new flowers and past surgeries, that details about their life together have been noted down for someone to learn about where they stood.

These were messages, from the Katsuki who - apparently - loved him, written for a future, distant Katsuki.

A Katsuki who’d chosen to get the surgery to save himself.

The surgery to forget the person he loved.

To forget Izuku.

Everything.

Their entire lives - the good, the bad, the ugly - and Katsuki chooses to forget Izuku without a single mention of any of this.

It was enough to break Izuku.

He set the old book back into the box, numb to his actions as he shut the lid and sealed it with the key. Izuku returned to the place he’d found the key and set it back, and stared at the figures of himself on Katsuki’s shelves.

Katsuki wasn’t there then, he couldn’t have stopped Izuku - he didn’t even know him at that point; after all, he was getting the surgery then.

Izuku didn’t think. He moved quickly, settling on a decision he should have known would only cause more pain. He returned to the bedroom and grabbed the box, taking it back to the office and grabbing the key, quick to grab the figures of himself and toss them in with the books.

Taking the box, Izuku moved through the apartment and grabbed anything that vaguely reminded him of himself - photos, magazines, other figures he hadn’t seen in his first look of the place. Anything and everything related to Deku - to Midoriya Izuku - was to go into the box.

He finished in record time, and with a cursory glance over the apartment, Izuku left with the box and all the contents within. By the time he’d gotten back to his place, he’d come to understand what his decision meant.

Izuku fell to his knees and held the box close to himself, choking on the sobs that wracked through him. He couldn’t stand from his place just inside the door of his apartment, falling onto his side as he cried on the floor.

An hour later he still hadn’t moved, his body cold and stiff, his throat sore from sobbing. He shifted a little, the box moving with him as he sniffled and coughed.

“Goodbye, Kacchan…”

He didn’t sleep that night, and even when he got home the next day from work, he couldn’t find a way to shut off his mind. His world felt empty, everything was wrong and nothing made sense.

But it was the only solution to save Katsuki. It was an endless cycle of surgeries and Katsuki had been warned time and time again - if the journals were true - that he needed to stay away from Izuku.

That going back to Izuku meant he’d just find himself falling in love again.

Izuku understood why Katsuki did it - it was clear in the way he wrote about Izuku leading up to the next surgery every time. He didn’t want things to change, to keep Izuku in the dark about his feelings, for fear that Izuku would do something to ruin things.

Izuku didn’t need Katsuki’s entries to tell him what that meant. It was obvious that Katsuki feared Izuku’s self sacrificial nature, that he feared Izuku would do something drastic and change everything.

And he had.

Izuku removed himself from Katsuki’s life as best as he could - the third day after learning about the books, Izuku had put in a transfer before Katsuki would be back on duty, and he contacted his friends to tell them something had come up and to not mention Izuku to Katsuki. He declined to answer their questions and continued to work at removing himself, all without a second thought to how this might affect anything, least of all his own life.

He never knew a world without Bakugou Katsuki. Kacchan was inevitable, a direct constant that Izuku could never imagine leaving him.

The decision was made easy with the reminder that Katsuki was willing to forget him.

Sure, he wrote those journals - detailed everything they’d been through and every feeling he’s ever had for Izuku - but at the end of so many entries, he would describe the need for the surgery and occasionally would mention how he’d considered hiding these books from himself, if only to avoid the pain of hanahaki again.

It was hard to avoid reading those books. Izuku’s chest ached as he read through the entries, the ways Katsuki would describe him making his face heat up in a blush, and he found himself crying over the situation every time. He went several nights without proper rest, thinking about how impossible it felt for someone to be writing about him with such beautiful words. He couldn’t stop himself from thinking “none of this was true, right?”

Bakugou Katsuki sang his praise in these journals, wrote about emerald glimmering eyes and a soft, beautiful face, about desires to hold Izuku close and kiss him gently…

Bakugou Katsuki wrote about Midoriya Izuku and how much he loved him.

Bakugou Katsuki wrote about Midoriya Izuku just so that he could forget him.

Bakugou Katsuki wrote about Midoriya Izuku and the pain he went through loving him.

Izuku read through the last entry Katsuki ever wrote the most, and he wanted to punch something every time.

February 10th, xxxx Chocolate Lily
I fucking hate Valentine’s Day. It’s everywhere. People are too sappy and sweet and in love and I’ll never have that.

I don’t even want it. I can’t have it. Not with Deku.

The stupid ass is going to be confessed to a hundred times over and he’s never going to accept a single one of them. What chance would I ever have? After everything I have done?

I barely remember it, but these books are filled with facts. I love him. I have loved him several times over. I hated him, once, if only because I feared him. I understood him as someone better, someone more important, and that used to hurt me. So I have hurt him. I have beaten him. I have ridiculed him. Years of loathing only for one stupid fight where I poured my heart out to him is all it takes to give me this disease?

I hate him.

I love him.

I can’t keep doing this.

I don’t want to forget him.

But I can’t keep doing this.

Izuku’s heart broke the first time he read through this entry, and a few more times whenever he’d read through it again. A few times he’d been angry that Katsuki didn’t just tell him how he felt, but lately he’s just been upset that Katsuki’s willingness to forget Izuku has resulted in him forgetting their childhood together. Moments of weakness long forgotten as the flowers are removed, and Izuku can do nothing to bring those back.

Not without risking Katsuki’s health again.

He’d searched up what a chocolate lily is, the meaning behind every flower noted as being in Katsuki’s chest because of him, but especially this last one.

Fritillaria camschatcensis, more commonly known as chocolate lily, kamchatka fritillary, wild rice, or northern rice root. Flower meaning: Curse, love.

Izuku had stared at the image of the dark lily flower and couldn’t begin to imagine what it would feel like to have something as big as the flower taking over your chest.

The meaning behind the flower, however, made his blood run cold.

Didn’t that mean that, in the time of writing that entry, Katsuki believed his love for Izuku to be a curse?

It took some time, but eventually Izuku was able to make it through a day without thinking about Katsuki until he was home. Occasionally he’d hear reports of what his old partner was up to at the other agency, but his focus had become hero oriented and he was able to separate the name Katsuki from the hero Dynamight.

It took a longer time to stop crying over the journals, and months had passed before he could get proper sleep.

Izuku became numb to a world without his childhood friend, Kacchan, but he was able to get through it.

Until the day their agencies merged and Katsuki was thrust back into his life.

Izuku avoided him at all costs, keeping things short and civil between them if they ever crossed paths. Their friends that knew of their history never asked him, and as far as he could tell, none of them asked Katsuki either - just as he’d asked them to.

He should have known it wouldn’t last.

Katsuki cornered him in the locker room one evening and Izuku could tell he wasn’t getting out of this.

“Who the fuck are you?”

Izuku shivered at the question. “I… I’m Deku…”

“I know that,” Katsuki scoffed, crossing his arms, “I wanna know who you fucking are and why everyone acts like you’re my best friend?!”

Izuku was at a loss for words.

“Haah?!” Katsuki shouted, punching the wall beside Izuku’s head. It was all too familiar, but the distant look in Katsuki’s eyes then made it hard to think of the past. “I don’t know any Midoriya Izuku’s and you sure as fuck don’t look familiar, so why does everyone act like I should know you?! Better yet - why has everyone been asking me about you for months on end like I was supposed to know why some stranger left our agency? What’s going on?!”

Izuku could never lie to Katsuki - not even for his own good.

“We’re… childhood friends…”

Katsuki had hesitated, clearly not believing him. But there was something about the way he pulled back and stared, something in his gaze that told Izuku the surgery wasn’t able to steal away everything.

“You had a surgery a few months back…”

“How did you—”

“To remove flowers from your chest…”

Katsuki narrowed his eyes, then the scowl on his face softened as he came to understand. “You were the one I was in love with.”

Izuku could have sobbed then.

“So… what happened? I confess to you or something?”

Izuku could barely speak, shaking his head. “I found out… because you’d been doing it for years…”

“Huh…?”

He reached out, took Katsuki by the hand and nodded slowly. “It’s easier to show you what I found…”

Within a matter of minutes, they were walking into Izuku’s apartment and he showed the journals to Katsuki. His old friend took his time, reading through every journal in silence beside Izuku. When he finished, it was late into the evening and Izuku could feel his body wanting to pass out, but his mind was full of screaming thoughts he could not shut off.

“How did you find them?”

“Do you remember anything?”

Katsuki scoffed. “Nope,” the pop of the p had felt like a gunshot to Izuku’s heart, “but this is clearly my handwriting and if everything in here is really how I’ve felt… I’ve known you for years.”

Izuku slowly nodded before explaining everything. It didn’t take long, and Katsuki never asked him to slow down, but with it all out in the open like that, Izuku had felt exposed to the man he thought he’d let go of months ago.

“So you just decided it was better to leave me in the dark in case I fell in love again,” Katsuki surmised, and Izuku gaped at him. Before he could deny anything, or better explain himself even, Katsuki rolled his neck and rubbed at the back of it. “The way I see it, if we’ve been in each other’s lives for… forever, apparently, then the surgery would remove half of my memories and make things pretty fucking foggy.” Katsuki glared at Izuku then. “In fact, I know they did - these last few months have been the most confusing ever.”

“I… I didn’t know—”

“No, you didn’t think,” Katsuki corrected, slamming his hand onto the table beside the box. “Damnit Deku, I have been missing so much information, do you really think my little love notes were just to help me fall in love with your sorry ass all over again?!”

Izuku crumbled, falling back into the chair behind himself and unable to meet Katsuki’s eyes. His heart thunderously grew louder, making it hard to hear Katsuki as he continued speaking.

“Was it so difficult for you to even consider loving me back?! Did you honestly believe I was better off without you in my life?! That somehow you were so goddamn loveable that I wouldn’t be able to stop myself?!”

“Forty-five…”

“Haah?!”

“Your final volume,” Izuku managed to say, “says you got that surgery at least forty-five times… the Kacchan I knew wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. If you could stop yourself from falling in love, you wouldn’t have needed forty-five surgeries.”

Katsuki narrowed his eyes, glaring straight though Izuku. He shivered at the feeling - that Katsuki knew everything again but could stare so coldly at someone he once wrote such sweet words for…

“There’s one thing my past self got right,” Katsuki sneered, snapping the box closed and grabbing hold of it, “you’re a self sacrificial dick who doesn’t think about how hurting himself might affect others.”

Izuku couldn’t bring himself to stop Katsuki as he left, and the sound of the door slamming shut behind him was all Izuku needed to begin sobbing.

That was the night the first white petal made its way up Izuku’s throat and out his mouth, covered in blood and innocently floating to his hand after a particularly violent cough.

He didn’t need to see a doctor to know what it was, nor did he need to think twice about what it meant.

Izuku could only stare at it for a moment before searching up what type of flower it might be. Once he was certain of the flower type, he searched for the language meaning.

Camellia (white): Waiting.

Izuku could only feel frustration in that moment, the petal immediately becoming crushed in his fist as he read the meaning again.

Of course Izuku’s love becomes unrequited in the moment he gets Katsuki back.

Of course Izuku only realizes he’s in love after he’s completely ruined everything.

Why would the flower come to mean waiting? Why would Izuku ever expect anything now?

If there was one word to describe Katsuki, it would be stubborn. And he’d just made the man believe Izuku didn’t think he had it in himself to not fall in love again.

Katsuki was bound to do everything in his power to avoid going down that path again.

He could take a guess as to where his own feelings came from. An old fondness for Katsuki, his first crush, and reading all of those beautiful words he wrote. That it would hit him like a ton of bricks when it’s confirmed for him that Katsuki wouldn’t feel the same.

Just as it was when they were children.

It was easy enough to hide, this newly developed hanahaki. His camellia flower remained white, always waiting for something he knew wouldn’t happen. Katsuki might have fallen for him time and time again, but this time it was different - this time, Katsuki didn’t take the books to recall things to carry on with his life, to continue to speak to Izuku and keep their relationship as it was. No, this time, Katsuki had the freedom to avoid Izuku without needing to answer questions he wasn’t ready for. He didn’t need to explain to Izuku why he needed to stay away from him, or why their long term relationship of bitterness, hatred, tentative friendship, and heated rivalry would need to end just like that.

Izuku knew it all. He understood his actions had consequences, as they always have had, and this time, he paid an ultimate price.

He doesn’t know a life without Bakugou Katsuki - and now, Bakugou Katsuki wanted nothing to do with him, even if he had a vague awareness of the life they shared.

His camellia flower tinged yellow - longing - when days stretched to weeks, from weeks to months without seeing more than a glimpse of Katsuki. His heart ached with the pain of a flower overtaking his chest, pushing at his organs and pooling from his throat when he recalled the sweet words he’d memorized.

Words about him - words that weren’t for him - sweet words that now meant nothing to the man who wrote them.

The flower came away red after their first co-op mission since the agencies merged, months after Katsuki relearned their history, and Izuku could only stare in anguish at the red tinged petals. He’d thought it was just the blood, but even when he wiped it away, the petals remained a deep and vibrant red.

Love.

Izuku hated himself even more.

Ads were popping up on his search engine - different doctors and companies promising a safe removal of the flowers and reassuring their prices were the best. But Izuku could only wrinkle his nose at the very thought of forgetting Katsuki, scrolling past and away from the very idea of surgery.

Kacchan was inevitable - he was constant - he would always be important to Izuku. The very thought of letting himself forget him hurt.

They were working together again - not as well as they once did, and definitely much quieter than ever before, but Izuku began to see more of Katsuki. And still, the camellia flower remained red.

Until Katsuki saw them.

“How long?”

Izuku felt his body tense, his fist tightened around the petal and he stared into the locker before him. “How long what…?”

“How long have you been sick?” Katsuki’s voice was soft, an unusual sound for someone so explosively vibrant.

Izuku closed his locker and turned to look at his co-worker - his childhood friend - his once rival - his love.

Katsuki stared at him, waiting for the answer.

“Is it sick to love someone…?”

Katsuki clicked his tongue, rolling his eyes. “It is if you have something growing in your chest. How many are there? Are they rooting yet?”

Izuku didn’t know, nor did he care. “I haven’t seen a doctor.”

“So it’s recent?”

Izuku shrugged. “A few months.”

Katsuki’s eyes widened. “Months?! They have to be rooting - damnit Deku, we need to get to a hospital and—”

“And what?” Izuku cut in, jaw clenched. “Forget everything about them?”

Katsuki hesitated, but he did not back down. “Deku. You could die if you’re not treated.”

“You would be the expert, I guess.”

“Deku.”

His throat tickled, and Izuku held back the cough as best as he could. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Bakugou-san…”

He ignored the pained look in Katsuki’s eyes as he turned, and he couldn’t hold the cough back any longer when Katsuki made a grab for him. Izuku is pushed back, coughing heavily into the crook of his elbow as Katsuki stared at him.

“Whoever the fuck it is, they aren’t worth risking your life like this,” Katsuki muttered, watching Izuku come down from his coughing fit.

Izuku’s vision is blurred from the tears, but he can see there’s too much blood to be normal on his arm. “You don’t know that.”

“Deku—”

“Leave me alone.”

Katsuki doesn’t fight him again, letting go as Izuku stumbled from the room and moved as quickly as he could away from the man who caused all of this.

By the time he’s home, he’s finally able to see the petals stuck to his sleeve - mixtures of red and white, all tinged in the dark blood that’s dried and crusted over. Izuku felt numb as he stared at his sleeve, his heart catching on the stems rooting into his respiratory system, trying to make him feel.

It was difficult to say what he should feel at that point. Hatred? Anger? Loss?

Should he cry that Katsuki wanted him to forget it all, that he acted as though it was so easy to just let go of the person you loved…?

Izuku fell back onto his couch and plucked a petal from his sleeve. The blood stained satin feel of the white camellia flower seemed distant, and Izuku found it harder to breathe the longer he stared. He slowly pulled his phone out and opened a search engine, googling temporary cures for hanahaki.

There had to be something to stop this from hurting - hold off the pain a little longer. Something to trim it all back, but maintain the roots holding firmly onto his memories.

He couldn’t forget about Katsuki - not yet, he couldn’t give up yet. The flower spoke of his patience, and surely Katsuki’s stubborn attitude would crumble if they continued to speak.

Katsuku could love him again - has loved him several times over.

Izuku found a surgeon nearby, one that boasted prolonging one’s life without the full removal of hanahaki - without destroying their memories. He glanced to the window, the skies dark with the night and storm clouds beginning to form. The clinic claimed to be 24 hours - he could at least go to see it.

The walk took longer than Izuku expected, and he found himself just outside of U.A. not too long after. He stopped and stared up at the building beyond the gate, the storm clouds getting darker by the second.

It was just like he remembered, and for a moment, he felt a fondness for the place he spent three years of his life. But the roots tug at his heart, and he remembers the first entry of Katsuki’s journals took place here.

“It’s going to rain.”

He knew that voice all too well.

Izuku felt the cough before it came, holding it in as he turned to face Katsuki.

“You’re out here in a hoodie and without an umbrella,” Katsuki continues, but his eyes never met Izuku’s. “What are you gonna do when it rains?”

Izuku shivers at the question, glancing at Katsuki's bare arms. “You’re in a T-shirt. What do you plan to do?”

Katsuki huffs, glancing to the gate, up to U.A.’s building, and then to nothing, his gaze growing distant. “Why’d you come to U.A.?”

“Wasn’t where I was going,” Izuku admits, shrugging a shoulder. “Just passing by.”

Katsuki’s jaw shifts, kicking at a loose stone from the concrete. “Where were you headed…?”

“Why are you here?”

Izuku waits. Katsuki’s gaze slowly rose from the ground, to Izuku’s hand at his sides, up to his shoulder where he hesitates. Izuku blinks, shifting his weight from one leg to the other.

Katsuki swallows before finally meeting his gaze.

“I’m worried about you.”

That’s the last thing Izuku wants to hear.

Izuku turns to the gate, pulling out his license and letting himself in. Katsuki gapes, watching Izuku as he enters the school grounds. He doesn’t look back, and just continues to walk through the familiar campus - he knew Katsuki would follow.

The gates that blocked off Ground Beta are easy to pass through, and Izuku kept walking to the center of the mock cityscape. Katsuki is silent as he follows. Izuku only stops once he feels the first cold drop of rain.

“Do you remember this place?”

Katsuki is silent.

Izuku’s chest hurts, and his eyes sting with the tears that fill them. “Do you remember anything about U.A.? About me?”

“You know that I don’t.”

Izuku rounds on him then, tackling Katsuki to the ground and grabbing a fist full of his shirt. Katsuki’s eyes widen, surprised at the attack, tensing as he prepares to fight back.

“Was it really so terrible loving me?!”

The rain picks up then - growing heavier with the question. Immediately Izuku comes back from thinking about this past year and a half to this moment, the void of silence between them becoming filled with the weight of his question. Katsuki gapes from his position just under him, body going limp and lifeless, as though he couldn’t believe what Izuku was asking of him.

Izuku still can’t quite believe himself, either.

He’s crying, not even the rain can mask this. “Y-you gave up,” Izuku sobs, shaking with the force of his breath, trying not to cough around the petals threatening to pool from his mouth. “You let go of everything that was between us, without so much as a word to me, and you really think I wouldn’t be hurt by that…?!”

Katsuki remains silent.

“Th-there’s too much,” Izuku says, catching his breath. He shakes as another sob wracked his body, the flowers in his chest clenching down on his lungs. “T-too much that I don’t wanna forget - it… it scares me so much to think that I could ever forget you.” Izuku’s voice is hoarse, his throat burning from the petals scraping at his throat. “Wh… who am I without you, Kacchan…?”

Izuku looks at him, watches the way his eyes fill with tears, and he knows he finally understands.

“I can’t even imagine it,” he whispers, the rain soaking deep into his sweater, chilling his skin. “I can’t do it, Kacchan… I’d rather die than lose you…”

Izuku begins to cough then, unable to hold back any longer. The petals come pouring from his mouth, and he tries his best to catch the white camellia flowers. He’s waited this long - surely, he can hold out just a little longer.

Katsuki shifts, sitting up from under Izuku and holding his shoulders to help him sit up right. “D - Izuku… what are you saying?”

He knows Katsuki knows - that he can’t believe it. But Izuku laughs around his coughs and looks at Katsuki, lips bloodied as he smiles.

“I’m in love with you.”

Izuku wasn’t expecting anything grandiose or even anything romantically beautiful - Katsuki wasn’t a romantic, and frankly neither was Izuku. At the very least, he expected things to feel right again - that this hopeless feeling of loss would subside and he’d be held in Katsuki’s arms, that wouldn’t let go this time, and they’d be happy.

He just… wasn’t expecting Katsuki to grab his wrists, holding them up above Izuku’s head and staring at him with a determined look in his eyes. Izuku stares back, confusion sweeping through him.

“H… huh?”

“You need to clear the airways, catch your breath,” Katsuki says, releasing hold of his wrists when he believes Izuku won’t drop his arms. He then looks between Izuku’s eyes, the tears pooling from them mixing with the rain. Katsuki takes hold of Izuku’s face, considering him for a moment as his eyes seem to shift with recognition.

Izuku calms his breathing as he stares back. The look of Katsuki’s eyes keep shifting, changing, and for a moment, he wonders what it could all mean.

But then Katsuki is smirking, swiping a thumb over Izuku’s bloodied lip to wipe it all away. “You’re the biggest idiot I have ever met.”

“Huh…?!”

“In every erasure of my memories, I never once forgot what hanahaki was, or that I had it at some point,” Katsuki explains, shrugging a little. “It’s why I only noted it down the first time. I researched it a lot, and the doctors I went to all knew who I was and what I was going through. They wanted me to find ways to avoid you, but you were too important in my life to avoid ever falling in love again.

“Eventually, they’d made a discovery through another patient that hanahaki’s unrequited love is only through the perception of the one afflicted.” Katsuki smirks, raising his brows. “So if you believe with all your heart that your love cannot be returned, hanahaki will root itself into your chest - even if the other person does love you, you have to convince yourself that they truly do.”

Izuku lowers his arms, the rain now trickling down his back and sending a shiver down his spine. “So… what does this mean…?”

“The surgery removed my memories, but the hanahaki would re-root if I fell in love with you again,” Katsuki heaves a sigh, “and I always did because… well, despite you being insane, self-sacrificial, and absolutely annoying, you were still everything I wanted to be.”

Izuku shakes his head. “Y-you can’t be serious…”

“Deku,” Katsuki’s brows furrow, and the way he says Izuku’s hero name is so familiar, it hits Izuku then that he hasn’t heard it said this way in so long. “You are an amazing hero, who loves without question, and cares for those in need. I don’t know how you do it, but… I want to be able to save people, too. I just went about it differently, but you… you worked so hard at everything, of course I’d end up loving you.”

Izuku sniffles, and Katsuki wipes at the fresh tears on his cheeks, warming his face from the cold rain. “You… you remember?”

“I thought it was impossible for you to love me back,” Katsuki murmurs, “so I didn’t even consider for a moment that my perception was wrong. I dealt with the pain, and lost everything, knowing damn well I’d make my way back to you no matter what.”

“Kacchan...!”

“I love you, you damn nerd,” Katsuki breathes, leaning in to brush his lips to Izuku’s. “Always and forever, I am in love with you.”

Izuku hiccups, smiling as he kisses Katsuki.