Chapter Text
Katsuki had a secret.
It wasn’t that well-hidden of a secret, but it was one that he held close to his chest. He was a huge reader. It didn’t matter if it was romance manga or murder, queer fantasy or knitting history. He loved it all. Reading had been one of the few things that could soothe him after his relationship with Izuku went south all those years ago. It was one of the few times that he and his mother could exist together without ripping each other to shreds or relying on his father to soothe their raw edges. Mitsuki and Masaru Bakugou had both cultivated his love of reading, praising him for how much he enjoyed it and how much it reflected his intelligence. When the world was too much, too loud or the wrong texture, Katsuki could find solace in the written word.
From a young age, the blonde had built a quite impressive collection of books and manga. It was a horde proudly displayed throughout his home, something that his parents had initially encouraged. All that changed when Mitsuki Bakugou decided to downsize their house.
Katsuki felt anger roiling in his gut, burning up his throat. He looked around their living room, the sparse shelves bare of his books. The books that he had decided to leave at home to collect the next time he visited. The books he trusted his parents to look after, even if he hadn’t said that out loud.
“What. Did. You. Do?” Katsuki’s throat scratched as he forced the words out. He bit back the scream building behind his eyelids. The pressure went straight to his veins, his heart pumping faster and adrenaline flooding through him.
“What did you say, brat?” A voice called from the kitchen. The voice, which Katsuki distantly realized belonged to his mother, was light and airy, cheerful and not at all repentant.
“Where is everything, hag?” Katsuki’s hands shook as they clenched into fists. Footsteps clacked softly in the hallway behind him. The front door slammed as his father returned home. He turned around. Mitsuki leaned against the wall.
“What are you talking about, Katsuki?” She sounded genuinely confused, like she wasn’t at the center of his missing belongings. Over her shoulder, Katsuki could see the brown fluff of his father’s hair. Mitsuki raised an eyebrow. Desperately, Katsuki swung a hand around, gesturing to the empty shelves.
“My books?! Where the fuck are they?!” Katsuki couldn’t help the note of fear creeping into his voice. “They were here the last time I came to visit.”
“Oh, Katsuki, you scared me!” She sounded relieved. Why the fuck did she sound relieved?! “I tossed those last week. You’ve barely looked at them for years and we decided it was time to do some downsizing.” Mitsuki shrugged, smiling as she spoke. As if she hadn’t just confessed to throwing away something that mattered to him.
Katsuki felt something shatter in his heart. “Last week?” His voice was small, so much smaller than he had ever spoken. He felt sick to his stomach. Ice poured down his skin. There was an almost inaudible ringing in his ears. His books were…gone? Thrown away like trash? Like they didn’t even matter? Like he didn’t even matter? Mitsuki blinked, looking at his face with clearer eyes.
“Katsuki?” She asked, “Is something wrong?” Just then his father walked up.
“Hello, Katsuki! It’s good to see you again. Are you staying long?” His father’s face was cheerful. There was no twist in his brow, no glances to the side. Katsuki couldn’t speak for a moment. Masaru’s head tilted to the side, seeing his son’s ashen face. “Katsuki? Are you okay?” He turned to his wife, asking her what happened.
“I don’t know, honey,” she replied, “I just told him about us getting rid of some junk last weekend.” Katsuki just barely bit back the keening whine building in his throat. She called it junk. SHE CALLED IT JUNK. Katsuki’s fists clenched once again, his hand balling up into the hoodie he wore.
He coughed slightly, clearing his throat. “Can’t stay long,” he muttered. He didn’t bother to hide the huskiness of his voice, the raw ache in his throat. “Just came to check in.” Mituski’s brows crinkled.
“Katsuki? Sweetheart?” Katsuki took a deep breath.
“Gotta go before the train leaves. Good to see you again.” Katsuki turned on his heel, forcing himself to walk calmly to the door. He heard his parents protest behind him, but ignored it in favor of slinging his backpack onto his shoulders. It was filled with a weekend’s worth of clothes and some collapsible storage bins for the books he had planned to take back to campus with him. One of his parents, Katsuki couldn’t tell which, called out to him just as he slammed the door closed. He breathed out a shaky sigh, feeling his eyes burn. He didn’t let a single tear fall until he had closed the gate to his parents’ property and began the trek back to UA.
A soft thumping at his door brought Katsuki out of his sulking reverie. His face twisted. No one was supposed to be here. The rest of the class had gone home for the weekend. Aizawa was with his husband and children. He had come here because he needed to be alone so he wouldn’t blast his parents to bits.
He looked over at the door before standing up. His phone, shut off, tumbled off the bed. He had switched the device off after declining the fifth call from his parents. He couldn’t talk to them right now, not until he was in control of his emotions again. Therapy had taught him at least that much. Remove yourself from the situation before you do or say something you regret . Give yourself time to process things. That’s what Hound Dog had told him at the beginning of their meetings. If nothing else, the hero’s advice would keep him out of prison for patricide.
The person on the other side of the door knocked once again. Taking a deep, soothing breath, Katsuki scowled and wrenched the door open.
Izuku fucking Midoriya stood framed in his doorway. His hands fiddled with the hem of his shirt, scarred fingers passing over the fabric with self-soothing motions. The shorter boy rocked back and forth on his feet.
“Hi, Kacchan,” he said. His voice was subdued, much quieter than usual.
“The fuck do you want, nerd?” Katsuki’s voice lacked its usual bite. Instead of anger, he just sounded tired.
“Um,” Izuku hesitated.
“Just spit it out.”
“Sorry, Kacchan. I’m just trying to figure out how to say this succinctly. Oh, never mind.” Katsuki blinked, opening his mouth. Before he could say anything, Izuku continued. “Your mother texted me asking if you were okay. She said you ran out on them. Based on the fact that you initially planned to stay over the weekend at your parents, and the fact that you’re sitting in your room with the lights off, I’m guessing she did or said something that upset you. Is that right?” Izuku’s head tilted to the side. Despite his shitty mood, Katsuki felt his heart melt a little. He looked so much like a puppy in that moment. Then, he processed what the other boy had said. He scowled once again, slumping further down and leaning against the doorframe.
“Can’t believe she’d get you involved in this shit,” he grumbled. Izuku stepped forward, one arm slightly raised as if to give comfort. The arm quickly retracted, flapping wildly before returning to its ministrations on his shirt.
“Would you like to talk about it?” For a moment, Katsuki felt the ugly head of his pride and embarrassment rear up inside of him. The thought of telling someone what had happened felt physically painful, especially because he could predict what his classmates would say:
Why does that matter?
I mean, it’s her house. Doesn’t she have that right?
They’re just books. You can replace them.
Why are you so upset about this?
You’re overreacting.
There was something, though, that ached to tell Izuku. Katsuki’s gut told him that the green haired boy would understand, or at least not make fun of him for being so upset about this. Before Katsuki had ripped a hole between them, he and Izuku shared a love of reading. After their fight at Ground Beta, Katsuki had begun reading in Izuku’s presence, slowly getting used to sharing part of his life with the other boy once again.
If nothing else, Izuku wouldn’t judge him for being so illogically attached to a bunch of books that he hadn’t had the time or energy to read in a while. Katsuki scrubbed a hand down his face. He gestured for Izuku to come in. He slouched over as he shuffled back to his bed, sinking down into the flimsy mattress. Izuku tucked a foot under himself before curling up on his desk chair. His other foot, still on the ground, pushed the chair back and forth. The green haired boy’s head tilted to the side, resting on the crest of his knee. Izuku looked in his direction expectantly. Katsuki let out another sigh before explaining what had happened.
“She said it was junk, Izuku.” Katsuki pretended not to notice the unconscious blink Izuku did upon hearing his full name. “It’s like she didn’t care that it was important to me, that those were my books that I bought with my own money and they were important to me.” Katsuki let out a breath that sounded more like a sob. “That’s the only thing that should’ve mattered, that they were important to me. ” Katsuki looked down, bracing his elbows on his thighs. He heard the rustling of fabric as Izuku shifted somewhere in the room. The bed shifted, dipping down next to him.
“Do you want physical affection?” Izuku’s question was soft, bereft of judgment. Katsuki nodded before being pulled into strong arms. Izuku was chilled around him, skin seeming cold in comparison to his own. It was soothing, like icing a sprained wound or applying balm to a burn. One of Izuku’s hands, scarred and gentle, dragged lines up and down his back. The shorter boy’s head was tucked into the juncture of his neck. Katsuki felt Izuku’s hair prickle against his cheek as the other boy shifted to mumble in his ear.
“I’m sorry, Kacchan,” he murmured, “You’re allowed to be angry about this. Let yourself feel this.” Katsuki buried his face into Izuku’s shoulder. His arms tensed against the other boy. Izuku let him do what he needed, breathing through the creak of his ribs as Katsuki squeezed him too tight. Eventually, Katsuki relaxed, sagging into Izuku’s embrace. The boys were quiet for a moment.
“I know it doesn’t fix the problem,” Izuku began, “But last weekend, when I was home, I ran by your house on my jog. I saw Auntie putting some boxes out by the curb. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, and I couldn’t sleep that night, so I checked it out during the night.”
“When did you go?”
“Hmm?”
“I need to know if I should picture you as a garbage-stealing racoon or a cryptid.”
Izuku snorted. “For your information, stinky man, it was three thirty five in the morning and I dug through your parents’ trash like an upstanding citizen - hunched over and paranoid.” Katsuki laughed at that. He felt Izuku smile against the side of his head. “I picked up as many of the boxes as I could and took them home with me. I got a few trips in before I triggered the flood lights. Got away just before your parents came out to threaten me.” He paused. “I didn’t know the whole story, or I would’ve told you right away. And I don’t know if I was able to save all of them. I’m sorry, Kacchan.”
Izuku felt the other boy tremble in his arms. He closed his eyes and resumed his ministrations on the other’s back, ignoring the growing damp spot on his shoulder. Eventually, Katsuki sniffed and pulled away. He sat watching his hands. With another sniff, he spoke.
“Thanks, nerd.” His voice was rough and raw. “It…it means a lot to me. That you did that.”
Oh, this sweet boy. I just love him so much, Izuku thought.
“Miss me with that gay shit” was what Izuku actually said to Katsuki. The blonde rolled his eyes, grinning.
“Damn, nerd. Gotta come for my throat like that?” Izuku laughed.
“The boxes are in my room. I’ll bring them down tomorrow when we’re both rested and we can go through them to see what’s missing.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Sorting through the books in the morning found a tinge of melancholy working its way down Katsuki’s throat. So many of his books were there, saved from the flames by Izuku’s fucked up hands. But he still couldn’t help mourning the ones that were missing, that had been tossed or left behind. Izuku said nothing, but squeezed his hand.
A few days later, Katsuki opened his door one day to see a wrapped package with this name on it sitting innocently outside his dorm door. He picked it up, recognizing the familiar scrawl. He felt his heart melt as he ripped open the package to reveal a copy of one of his missing books.
Sweet baby, king of my heart, Katsuki thought.
“Sappy fuckin’ nerd,” is what Katsuki actually proclaimed.