Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I see a lot of people out there falling head over heels for folks they’ve never even laid eyes on, let alone exchanged a simple good morning with.

Me, at least, I’m lucky enough to like someone I not only see and talk to every day but also know really, really well.

But there’s a problem.

“Hey, useless Deku.” The rough, gruff voice rudely interrupted my train of thought. I realized then that I’d been staring into space for who-knows-how-long, unblinking, for several good minutes. “No wonder your legs creak just climbing five steps—you don’t do jack shit, just sit there scratching your ass.” Kacchan was panting, and for a moment, he yanked the collar of his black T-shirt up to wipe the sweat off his face. The hem lifted too, revealing a bit of his chiseled abs. I shivered all over. “Get up, damn it, come play with us.”

“I’m terrible at this, Kacchan. You know that,” I replied with a pout, hugging my backpack resting on my lap. I was sitting in the bleachers, waiting for Kacchan’s basketball practice to wrap up. “It’s easy for you to say—you’re not the one they look at like, Oh my God, what’s this guy doing here? They’re one step away from cussing me out, and I’m pretty sure the only reason they don’t is because of you.”

He sighed.

“I’ve told you, just point the finger, and I’ll beat the shit out of any bastard who messes with you.”

I burst out laughing.

And no, Kacchan wasn’t kidding.

“Then you won’t have a team left, ‘cause you’d have to take on everyone.”

He shrugged.

“I’d beat ‘em and put a leash on ‘em and make ‘em bark.” He held out his hand. “Pass me the water.”

Yeah, he’s already roughed up two or three guys because of me—whether they made nasty comments or just gave me a dirty look. All because they can’t wrap their heads around how the most popular guy in school, basketball team captain, hot as hell, and—on top of all that—a straight-A student, which everyone finds hilarious because it totally shatters the dumb jock stereotype, could be best friends with a scrawny little guy who wears round-framed glasses and spends his breaks holed up in the art room.

And he doesn’t even know how much it messes with me that he’s always got my back, teeth bared, not giving a damn about how weird people think our friendship is.

I grabbed the water bottle and tossed it to him.

Kacchan has a ritual. First, he leans his hip against the little railing between us and watches his teammates play while he twists the cap off the bottle. After chugging half the water in one go, he throws his head back and dumps the rest on his face. Then, like a dog fresh out of a bath, he shakes his head like crazy and, last but not least, runs his hand through his wet blonde bangs to push them back.

It’s a ritual I enjoy quite a bit, I’ll admit.

Katsuki’s the kind of guy who, at first glance, seems like your typical macho jerk who’d shoulder-check nerds in the hallways on purpose or smack girls’ butts when they’re not looking. I used to think he was like that too—his perpetual scowl doesn’t help much. He’s got this natural look like he’s pissed off all the time, which, at first, scared the hell out of me. I’d avoid even making eye contact with him. But now? I think it’s kind of funny.

“So, bro? What’s it gonna take for you to get back in the game? Need a nap too? Or you thinking about that busty brunette you banged yesterday?” Kirishima piped up, the only guy on the team who’s actually close to Katsuki off the court and the only one who bothers to say hi to me when I show up.

“Go fuck yourself, shitty hair,” Katsuki shot back. “Damn it, you can’t make a single shot without me there to pass you the ball, can you, you worm?”

That got a round of loud laughs from everyone, while Kirishima, with a playful grin, just rolled his eyes and flipped him off.

Katsuki tossed the empty bottle back to me before heading back to the others, and a new game kicked off.

We met in our first year of high school. I was spending yet another break in the art room, which is always empty at that time—that’s exactly why I love it so much.

I was painting with my back to the door, an easel holding a canvas in front of me, some tubes of paint scattered on the little table beside me, a brush in one hand, and a palette in the other. The only light came from the sun streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows covering the walls—I feel more comfortable like that than under harsh white bulbs.

And I nearly jumped out of my skin when a deep, raspy voice sounded behind me.

“Holy shit, that’s badass, dude. You made that?”

I jolted in my chair, almost dropping the palette from the shock. Wide-eyed, I spun around and came face-to-face with a tall blonde with a furrowed brow, wearing the red-and-black team jacket, apparently pretty focused on what I’d been doing on the once-blank canvas. Both hands were tucked into the pockets of his oversized jacket.

I recognized him right away.

Isn’t that the guy who’s always pissed at everyone?

I’m screwed. He’s gonna smash my face into this canvas, I thought, already trembling at the idea that he was probably just messing with me and would take advantage of the empty room to beat me senseless.

“I-I made it…” I stammered so bad that, combined with my bugged-out eyes behind my glasses, it was painfully obvious how much I was freaking out.

Katsuki laughed and gave me a light smack on the shoulder.

“Of course you did, dude, I was just messing with you. It’s what people always say when they see someone doing something cool, even when it’s obvious they’re the one making it, right?” he said, shifting his gaze from my painting to look at me for the first time. I kept staring at him like I was waiting for the first punch, because I’d built up such a solid image of him as a total asshole that I couldn’t convince myself otherwise, even with his casual tone. He clearly noticed and, locking eyes with me, suddenly got serious. That’s when I really swallowed hard, subtly raising my arms to brace myself for defense. “You’d better give me that painting if you wanna live to make another one.”

“S-sure!” I didn’t hesitate, frantically pulling my painting off the easel to hand it over. But when I held it out to him, the scary scowl melted away, replaced by a hearty laugh.

That’s when, with the sunlight bouncing off his spiky blonde hair and his red irises—making them even brighter—I thought, for the first time, despite still being confused and scared: Wow, this guy’s actually really good-looking.

“Damn, nerd. You should’ve seen your face,” he said between laughs, taking the canvas from my hands just to set it back on the easel. Then, that same hand landed on my shoulder, and I gulped at how warm and heavy it felt, even through my uniform. “Chill out, broccoli head. Catch you later.”

And, still stunned by what had just happened, I watched him stroll out of the room, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his jacket, which had a number on the back and, above it, a name stitched in black-and-white letters:

Bakugo Katsuki.

After that day, Katsuki started dropping by the art room during breaks every now and then. At first, he’d just pop in quick to see what I was painting, and we’d exchange a few words. I didn’t really get what his deal was, but I didn’t mind his visits either. Over time, he started striking up conversations, asking stuff like how old I was when I started drawing, what I liked to draw, that kind of thing. I liked the attention, even if I still didn’t get why the most popular guy at Yuei cared about spending his breaks exiled from the world with a nobody in the school hierarchy.

Before I knew it, I was never alone in the art room anymore—Katsuki became a regular there.

I don’t know when I started calling him Kacchan. The nickname just came to life on its own, without me even noticing. All I know is that, from the start, he’d been calling me Deku, which means “useless.” Contrary to how it sounds, it’s actually a funny, even affectionate nickname, because after I thought he was gonna pound me into dust when we met, he started calling me Deku to tease me about it, playing the tough guy. It turned into an inside joke between us.

Suddenly, the reclusive, kinda awkward nerd became best friends with the guy at the top of the school’s food chain. Katsuki, a wolf. Me, a lamb. No one got it—least of all me. Even Kirishima, who’s a lot like Kacchan in terms of looks and social status, doesn’t spend afternoons playing video games at his place like I do. I even wondered once if Katsuki wanted me as a friend because I wasn’t a threat to him—on the contrary, his presence would stand out even more next to me. But I never voiced those insecurities to him; I just decided to shove those dumb thoughts aside.

Nowadays, we still spend our breaks together in that room, but we also eat in the cafeteria—something I only do because of Katsuki, since there’s nothing more uncomfortable than sitting at a table surrounded by people who don’t even care if you’re there. During those times, Kacchan was usually too busy with everyone vying for a piece of his attention to give me much of it, but it wasn’t on purpose—it was just a side effect of being so popular, and I got that. Still, it’s not like he ignored me. He always made sure I sat next to him, and if that spot wasn’t free anymore, he wouldn’t hesitate to get up, grab a chair from another table, and plop it right beside him for me. I’d die of embarrassment because everyone stared at me like I was some problem that needed fixing, but deep down, my heart warmed at those little things he did.

Those little things, by the way, sparked a rumor that Katsuki and I were a thing.

I was scared that gossip might push him away—after all, in high school, everything’s fair game for mockery, and apparently, two guys kissing is the biggest joke of all. I thought he’d care about what people thought of him, but I should’ve known by then that Katsuki’s the most unpredictable person I’ve ever met.

All the rumors, to him, went in one ear and out the other. He didn’t distance himself from me—quite the opposite.

And, ironically, that’s when my problem started.

He made a point of showing he didn’t give a crap what anyone thought. Just to mess with people, he started throwing his arm around my shoulders when we walked through the halls together and even lent me his team jacket sometimes, with Bakugo Katsuki plastered huge on the back. It made me feel like a dwarf since it was way too big for me, but I liked it.

I started liking it more than I should’ve.

Katsuki’s indifference to it all made the buzz about us die down eventually. Seems like, for people, it’s no fun if the target of the teasing doesn’t care. If Katsuki didn’t give a damn, why should I? My only worry was that he would care.

And, well, there’s my problem.

Because I caught myself wishing all those rumors were true.

“Wanna come over to my place?” Kacchan asked, staring straight ahead as we walked side by side. His hand held his bag slung over his shoulder—a habit only he had. The other was stuffed in the pocket of his sweatpants. His blonde hair, damp from a recent shower in the locker room, was pushed back, though a few stubborn strands insisted on falling over his red eyes.

I let out a quiet sigh at the sight, looking away and gripping my backpack straps tight with both hands.

“Sure, Kacchan. I just need to swing by the art club first… I lent some paints to a friend and told her I’d pick them up now.”

“Got it, nerd.”

I let out a laugh.

Hearing Katsuki call me a nerd will always be funny, since his grades are way better than mine.

“Just don’t wear his ass out too bad, huh, Bakugo?!” one of the guys from the team yelled from a distance, laughing with the others. “If this kid doesn’t show up to school tomorrow, you’ll know why…”

I rolled my eyes, adjusting my round glasses on my nose.

I blushed when, out of nowhere, Katsuki’s strong arm draped casually over my shoulders.

No matter how many times he’d done it, I’d never get used to it.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing. Got more ice cream yet, dude?” Kacchan fired back, not bothering to turn and give them a glance, not even breaking his stride. “You’ll need it when you’re bawling your eyes out watching Titanic alone for the millionth time tonight, you bastard.”

The court erupted in laughter, and I couldn’t hold mine back either.

On the way to the art room, everyone flashed big smiles and greeted Katsuki enthusiastically. He’d just give a barely-there smirk and a slight wave with the hand resting on my shoulder, not leaving much room for anyone who might want to stop and chat.

Even after all this time, I could still see on people’s faces how they couldn’t get used to a guy like me being best friends with the most sought-after dude in school.

I can’t say I’m much different—I haven’t totally gotten used to it either.

Kacchan only took his arm off my shoulder when we reached our destination. Unlike during break, the art room was packed after classes, but since I’d gone to watch his practice, everyone was already getting ready to head out.

Uraraka, who was packing her brushes and supplies into her bag, beamed when she saw me.

“Izuku!” Her brown eyes turned into crescent moons as she jogged over to me. “I thought you weren’t coming. Here, take these.” She handed me my paints in a little bag.

“Thanks, Uraraka!” I gave her a big smile back. “Did you finish your painting?”

“Thank you! And yeah, I did.” She clenched her fist in front of her face and pumped her arm down, like she was celebrating her victory. I laughed. “Thanks to you! Thank you, thank you, thank you.” She threw herself at me, hugging me tight and rocking me side to side. I laughed, returning the warm squeeze. “Hm, and you are…?” She finally seemed to notice Katsuki beside me. Surprised by that, my eyes widened.

How is there a single soul in this school who doesn’t know who Bakugo Katsuki is?

“Katsuki,” he answered, extending his hand to shake hers. She flashed him one of her signature bright smiles.

“Nice to meet you, Katsuki! Are you on the team?” she asked, curious, noticing the black-and-red jacket tied around his waist.

Katsuki hid it well, but I knew he had to be just as shocked that she didn’t know him.

“He’s the captain,” I answered for him.

“Oh, got it. You must be amazing, then! I’m terrible at sports,” she laughed. “I’m Uraraka, nice to meet you.”

Kacchan crossed his bare arms, making his muscles look even bigger in that stance.

“I can teach you, if you want.”

What?

My eyes widened.

“Ever played basketball? You could come with Deku to one of our practices.”

My heart skipped a beat.

I turned to look at him.

Katsuki was staring at her intently. There was something different in that look.

I lowered my head a bit.

“I have, yeah, but, you know, it wasn’t really a proper game… I’d just bounce the ball and try to make a shot,” Ochako laughed. What threw me off, though, was that he smiled back. And it wasn’t one of those fake smiles he threw at other people. “Oh, I’d love to go, then.”

“Cool. Swing by.”

A brief silence settled in, but they kept looking at each other. I noticed the faint blush on her face and could tell Katsuki did too, because his smile grew.

My stomach twisted.

I was the odd one out here—they didn’t even see me anymore. I wondered if they’d notice if I just turned and left.

“Alright, thanks for the invite,” she finally said, looking away and brushing a brown strand behind her ear with an exaggerated flourish.

That whole scene was pissing me off.

“See you there, then.”

“See you tomorrow, then.”

“Later.”

“Later.”

They laughed at each other, and I thought they’d keep going with the yeah, cool, see ya for another millennium, but thankfully Uraraka put an end to my misery when she turned, shyly heading back to her table to finish packing up.

“Let’s go, Kacchan?” I nudged his arm, but he stayed still, watching the short-haired brunette who was now oblivious to us.

My chest felt a slight weight over my heart, pressing it down in an almost subtle way. It wasn’t enough to knock the wind out of me, but it was enough to make me scared it might.

I swallowed hard.

My heartbeat was racing. In all our two years of friendship, I’d never once seen Katsuki look at a girl the way he was looking at her now.

“Kacchan…?” My voice barely came out. I wanted to turn and leave—he wouldn’t notice anyway—but my legs just wouldn’t move. My eyes were glued to his goofy face, and his were glued to her.

I just wanted to disappear.

“Let’s go,” he finally said, turning and walking out of the room without waiting for me. At that moment, a group of three girls swarmed Ochako, and the four of them dove into an excited, animated conversation, gesturing wildly and grinning ear to ear. Even if I couldn’t hear what they were saying, it was obvious it was about Katsuki.

I huffed and left the room.

I gripped my backpack strap hard.

“You guys known each other long?” was the first thing he asked when I caught up.

That weight in my chest kept growing.

“Not really…” I answered simply. I wanted to sound casual, but gravity kept pulling my head down.

“You close?”

Every question about her made my heart jump in a different way.

I gripped my backpack strap tighter.

“Not really.” That was a lie. If I’d said otherwise, he’d definitely ask me more about her.

“Hm.”

He wasn’t looking at me, and I was secretly grateful for that. On the other hand, the fact that he was staring off into space made me think he was probably thinking about her, and that freaked me out more than if he’d been staring at me.

“You into her?” I blurted out fast before my courage ran dry. But the second the words slipped out, I already felt myself deflate.

“Oh…” He scratched the back of his neck with his hand. Still not looking at me. “Well, she’s pretty cute, right? And she seems interesting, so… yeah, we’ll see.”

The way he tried to brush it off like it was no big deal hurt more than if he’d just said a straight-up yes.

A million things raced through my head right then.

I wanted to say she already had a boyfriend or, an even more obvious lie, that he wasn’t her type—because Katsuki’s everyone’s type.

But anything I thought of saying to make him less interested in her just felt too stupid.

And even though I wanted to vanish, I didn’t want him to notice that.

So we went to his place to play video games, like we’d planned.

I see a lot of people out there falling head over heels for folks they’ve never even laid eyes on, let alone spoken a single word to.

Me, at least, I’m lucky enough to like someone I not only see and talk to every day but also know really, really well.

But there’s a problem.

He’s my best friend.

And he’s totally straight.