Chapter Text
Katsuki doesn’t remember every detail about that day, but he remembers enough. He remembers how he was out patrolling with Izuku for his second-year work studies. He remembers the sun on Izuku’s freckled face, the way his skin glistened with sweat making him look almost golden against the sky as he zoomed past him, and he remembers ow the wind flowed through his green curly hair as he fell—
Wait. Fell?
It hit him like an explosion — no, worse than that.
Izuku wasn’t swinging back up.
Blackwhip wasn’t firing.
No apology. No shaky smile.
Just… falling.
His body moved on his own after that, explosion after explosion, blasting through the air, chasing the falling boy like the laws of physics weren’t something he had to obey.
“IZUKU!”
His voice was raw, tearing through the sky, but Izuku didn't answer, he just... fell.
He somehow managed to catch him. Barely.
He’d caught many falling idiots before, mostly civilians or sometimes even his own classmates, but this was different. Because Izuku wasn’t fighting it. No frantic scrambling, no quick-shot quirk switch, no panicked “Sorry, Kacchan!” Just wide empty eyes and a raw, unshaped scream.
For a split second, Katsuki saw him fourteen again — small, quirkless, standing on that middle school rooftop.
and his words rang out again,
'If you want to be a hero so bad, take a swan dive off the roof.'
The words punched him through the skull uninvited, sour and burning.
But he caught him, arms locking tight, the force of impact slamming the breath out of both of them. Katsuki twisted midair, taking the brunt of the fall himself, the concrete biting into his back as they skidded across the street and the pain stroke trough his spine, then—silence.
...
Katsuki’s ears rang, panic flowing trough his body as he felt Izuku heavy and too still in his arms, his breath shallow. There was no o blood. No obvious injury.
Izuku was just… out.
“Oi. Deku.” Katsuki shook him once. “Don’t screw around with me.”
Green eyes blinked open slowly. “…Kacchan?”
“You dumbass,” Katsuki sighed, relief tangling with fury.
“What the hell was that?”
Izuku swallowed, pushing weakly at his trying to get up. “It— it’s fine. Just… slipped. My aim was off and—”
“Shut up,” Katsuki snapped. It came out harsher than intended. His arms stayed locked around him like he could anchor him here by sheer force, like he would float away if he let go.
Izuku’s breathing was still uneven, his hands were trembling where they clutched at the edge of Katsuki’s hero costume.
“You almost died,” Katsuki said finally, his voice low now. “You get that, don’t you? This isn’t just some training hiccup. Something’s wrong with your damn quirk.”
Izuku flinched at that word — wrong.
“It’s… fine. I’m fine. Maybe I just pushed too much—”
“Bullshit.” Katsuki interrupted, his grip tightened before he realized it. He forced himself to ease up, but he didn’t let go, not entirely. “You don’t just forget how to use your own damn quirk mid-swing, that just doesn't happen.”
They sat there for a long moment, the only sound the hum of the city below blurring around them. Katsuki’s pulse was still hammering with adrenaline, but it was starting to slow, just a little but, now that he could feel Izuku breathing against him again, maybe they could stay like that forever, no villains, no quirks, just him and Izuku holding each other like their lives depended on it.
But Izuku was already pulling away, stumbling to his feet with that too-bright, too-practiced fake smile.
“Really, I’m fine. It was just a slip, let’s just keep going.” .
The rest of patrol passed in a haze. Katsuki kept his explosions small, sharp bursts at his palms, just to stay wired — every few minutes checking over his shoulder. Izuku kept smiling, kept talking like he always did, muttering about angles and grip strength and “oh, next time I should try…”
But he wasn’t fooling anyone. His footing was off. Twice he tripped stepping onto a rooftop, and once Katsuki thought he saw his arm twitch like he was going to fire Blackwhip before jerking it back to his side.
Katsuki wanted to yell, to demand he cut the act. But yelling felt useless here, like throwing grenades at smoke.
So he said nothing. He just stayed close, close enough to catch him if it happened again.
...
The walk back to the dorms was silent, the kind of silent that begged to be filled. Both of them wanting to say something, but neither knowing how.
Halfway there, Izuku caught his foot on a crack in the pavement. Katsuki’s hand shot out on instinct, steadying him with a firm grip at his arm.
He didn’t let go right away.
Their hands brushed against each other. Not long enough for anyone to notice, but long enough for warmth to linger. A strange calm washed over them, and something eased in Izuku’s shoulders.
Izuku still avoided his gaze, but Katsuki noticed how tightly he gripped his own hero costume, his knuckles white with tension.
“You okay, nerd?” Katsuki asked quietly.
“Yeah,” Izuku said, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m fine.”
Katsuki still didn’t believe him. He didn’t know what the hell was wrong with Izuku, or with One for All, but one thing he knew for sure:
He wasn’t letting him fall. Not again.
...
That night, Katsuki walked past the common room, he wasn't one to stay up late, he had a very strict schedule to follow, but he just couldn't get himself to fall asleep, still worrying about what had happened that afternoon.
He walked past the kitchen and opened the fridge, thats when he saw it. Izuku was alone, sitting at the kitchen table with the lights off. His hands were open in front of him, fingers flexing and curling like he was testing for something. Like he was trying and failing to call something back.
Katsuki approached him, opening his mouth, to say what, he didn’t know, he just needed to talk to him, make sure he was really fine — but Izuku flinched at the sound of his footsteps.
Not like someone caught doing something embarrassing.
Like someone who had been somewhere else entirely.
Somewhere fourteen again, maybe. Somewhere hearing you could never be a hero without a quirk.
Katsuki’s jaw tightened. He shut the fridge door without getting anything and just walked back to his dorm. Still unable to sleep, his chest felt too tight.
Because explosions couldn’t fix this, and for the first time,
Katsuki had no idea what could.