Chapter Text
Izuku’s about to lose it.
He’s pretty sure he’s checked his phone for The Email at least three times in the last thirty seconds and his friends are starting to give him worried looks.
The thing is… Izuku took a DNA test—one of those kits you mail in—and the results are supposed to come back today.
He knows the main draw of these things is supposed to be finding lost family members or learning about your family’s quirk history, but he’s more interested in—well, actually, that quirk stuff would be pretty fascinating, especially if his own quirk were actually genetic, and that’s kind of his cover story, but all he really wants is confirmation.
As of now, he’s floating along being forced to assume he either doesn’t have a soulbond or he’s the world’s latest bloomer. And he’s kind of sick of it. He’s been through this whole thing with his quirk before, and as painful as hearing his results were all those years ago, he’s glad the test was done. There’s something that’s somehow… comforting in the concrete knowledge that you’re different and there’s a real reason behind it.
Ever since he was little, he and his mother waited for his soulbond to show up. They started out like everyone else does, assuming it’d be genetic. Except, unlike his father, he could see the full color spectrum, so all colorblindness variations were off the table. And he didn’t have any sort of first words mark from birth like his mother. So they branched out, and went on like that until they’d ruled out pretty much every soulbond ever documented in more than one case (shared physical and/or emotional sensations/phenomena; any sort of string of fate; a countdown clock to your meeting; body swaps, annual or otherwise; matching marks; marks that would color in when touched for the first time; etc.), and his mother had practically given up by the time he’d hit middle school. Not Izuku, though.
He tried everything, from writing messages on his skin, hoping they’d be visible to his soulmate, to, after reading about a case where one soulmate’s tears manifested as flower marks on the other’s body, crying non-stop in an attempt to get some sort of rise out of the person on the other end of his bond.
(To be fair, that one wasn’t much of a stretch for him. Honestly, it’s probably a good thing that didn’t work. Izuku’s soulmate would be completely unhireable all tatted up like that.)
None of it worked. In the beginning, Izuku’s obsession was rooted in his hopeless romantic streak. He loved love, loved the idea of being destined to be with someone, romantically or platonically. That there was someone out there made for him, just as he was made for them.
But as the years wore on, it became something darker. A desperation. There was no way he was quirkless and missing a soulbond. Right? That’s like winning the lottery twice, but in the wrong direction. Almost no one is missing a soulbond, even if most people never actually find their soulmates. The only other person he’s ever met in real life without a soulbond is, well, Kacchan. (Yet another reason he figured he had to have one. Like, what are the odds of two kids in the same neighborhood with missing soulbonds? Very low. Izuku’s done the math.)
He knows that soulmates are kind of archaic at this point, and most people don’t take much stock in them, but come on, universe. Throw Izuku a bone here.
All this to say, Izuku needs these results. Just as Ochaco is opening her mouth to point out his fifth phone check in fifty seconds, he hears a ding!
Finally.
Izuku leaps from his chair, startling Ochaco, Tenya, and Shoto where they’re studying. “I’ve gotta go, sorry, see you guys!” he rushes, already on his way to his dorm room. On the way, he bumps into someone, and it must be Kacchan because he hears a Watch it, nerd! behind him. No time to stop and explain, though.
…He might get beat up for that when they spar later. Eh, he’ll give Kacchan a run for his money. He always does.
Safely in his room, Izuku rushes to his bed, not stopping to turn on the light, and opens The Email maybe as fast as he’s ever done something non-life-or-death.
Hello, Izuku Midoriya! Thank you for—
Blah, blah, blah, get to the good part, please!
Click here to see an in-depth breakdown of your results!
Izuku’s a little surprised his phone doesn’t crack from the force of his tap. At the top of the screen, he’s presented with four tabs: Medical, Family, Quirk, and Soulbond. This is it. Izuku takes a few deep breaths. A few more. And clicks.
Soulbond type: Colorblindness (Almost Total)
Colorblindness soulbonds typically manifest as a lack of one color until soulmates meet, usually the color of your soulmate’s eyes (one-color). Sometimes, however, this is reversed, and soulmates see no colors but their bond partner’s eye color (almost total). In very rare cases, there has even been documentation of complete—
Izuku doesn’t have it in him to keep reading. That… that was the first thing they ruled out. It can’t be colorblindness, especially not an almost total bond. That’s impossible. That means he’s already met his soulmate.
Wait. Could it be—
No. No, Kacchan doesn’t have a soulbond, and Izuku is just being silly. It’s a nice little fantasy, but that’s ridiculous. He’s sure whatever the odds are of two neighborhood kids being soulmates are probably half the odds of two neighborhood kids both being bondless. Or less! Plus, Izuku wouldn’t even want Kacchan as a soulmate. That’s a change. And neither of them are particularly good with change. Their relationship isn’t good with change. And being bonded would just break everything they just fixed. It’s a ridiculous thought. Which is why Izuku is going to stop having it now.
There’s only one way he can think of to get to the bottom of this.
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
“Izuku! It’s so good to hear your voice. How is school going? You know I don’t hear from you as much as I’d like, and—”
“Mom, I have a soulbond.”
Silence for a beat. Another. Then:
“...What?”
Izuku swallows. “Yeah. I got that DNA test back. I have an almost total colorblindness bond.”
“Oh. Oh! Sweetie, this is… great news, but… how?” Mom sounds about as shell shocked as Izuku has ever heard her.
“That’s what I don’t know. The only thing I can think of is that I met them before I could talk. That’s the only way I can imagine us missing me suddenly seeing almost every color all at once. But who could that be?”
“Well, you started talking pretty early, honey, I’m not—” She cuts off. Then, for the millionth time, she says, quiet, “Oh. Sweetie, you met Katsuki when you were both just tiny little things. Mitsuki and I took both of you to a park to visit, and…” She pauses again. Her voice is a little shaky, sort of far-off and dreamy, like she’s putting the pieces together as she speaks. “As soon as you saw each other, you both burst into tears. I only remember because Mitsuki and I were so confused. It took so long for both of you to calm down, but after that… Little Katsuki wouldn’t stop picking at the grass and you… You fell in love with this ladybug you found. Green and red. Oh, baby…”
Izuku thinks she might keep talking after that, but his head is full of glue. Green and red. Of course. Of course. He’s an idiot! Of course, if Izuku got his colors that early from Kacchan, Kacchan would get his from Izuku. And they would both think they didn’t have a bond. And everything Izuku spiraled about earlier still stands. This is going to wreck everything. He could try to play it off as a totally platonic thing. He and Kacchan are best friends now. Platonic bonds are real. Common, even!
…Who is he kidding, he’s never been a good liar. He’s been holding back these… feelings because he knows Kacchan doesn’t want a partner, let alone a soulmate. He thinks Izuku’s obsession is stupid. He’s always said his soulmate is hero work. Izuku and Kacchan built all this back up and for what? To be forced together by the universe? After they spent so many years choosing each other again and again? What if none of that was them? What if none of that was free will? What if—
“Izuku! Sweetheart! Are you alright?”
Izuku suddenly realizes he’s been hyperventilating into his phone. He touches his cheeks and his fingers come back wet. Hurriedly, we wipes his face with the All Might blanket pooled around him. It doesn’t do anything to stop the onslaught of tears.
“Mom, it’s h-him. Of course it’s—” he manages to get out before devolving into hiccupping sobs.
Mom’s voice is quieter now, more even and steady. “I know. I know. It’s alright, Izuku.” She keeps on like that for a while, a firm sort of calmness in her voice that makes it feel like Izuku is really there in her arms, like he’s just a little quirkless boy again, watching All Might videos until his eyes burn. He’s talked to her about Kacchan before. Not—not the whole picture and certainly not some of his semi-recent-but-realistically-probably-there-the-whole-time feelings, but Izuku talks about him a lot. He wouldn’t have ever noticed if his mother hadn’t pointed it out and gently teased him about it. But thinking back on it, she probably does have the whole picture. Especially with the way she’s comforting him right now. Izuku would freak out about being so transparent, but he can only panic about so many things at once.
Once his tears dry, he says goodbye to his mother (a several-step process involving a status update on all his friends and classes) and hangs up the phone. He falls flat on his back and stares up at the dark ceiling.
He stares and stares and thinks and stares until—
Banging. “Hey! Nerd! You in there?”
Oh crap.
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
The sparring session! He was supposed to spar with Kacchan tonight, and judging by the aforementioned dark ceiling, it’s tonight. Crap. Crap crap crap. What is he gonna do? Izuku can’t see Kacchan right now, not like this! He looks awful. Not that Kacchan has never seen him look awful before, they’ve seen each other almost dead and then some, but if Kacchan sees Izuku like this? Hair wild, eyes red, sitting alone in a dark room? He’s going to have some questions. And if Kacchan is one thing, he is persistent.
Case in point: the continued banging on the door. After about ten more seconds of silent panic, Izuku hears “Alright, I’m coming in and if you’re naked, it’s your fault.” followed by the sound of a doorknob turning.
Kacchan blinks into the darkness for a moment before flipping on the light switch. “The hell you doing in here in the dark, alone, Deku—?”
Izuku can see the exact moment Kacchan catches that he’s been crying. He can see it, see the almost-imperceptible, because he can read Kacchan. Because of the softening in his eyes and the fight leaving his soldiers and the concerned downturn of his lips and the million other things that make this situation impossible.
“Hey,” Kacchan says, stepping into the room and closing the door. “What is it? You have a nightmare?”
And because Izuku’s a crybaby and he’s been high-strung all week about these test results and Kacchan’s being so sweet and he’s being forced to deal with this so fast, those eight words are all it takes for him to burst into tears again.
“Woah, breathe, nerd. It’s alright. I’m here.” Kacchan sits on the bed, takes Izuku’s hand, and places it where he can feel his heartbeat. If he really was post-nightmare, Izuku would wrap his arms around Kacchan’s body, press his head into his chest, and never let go, but as things stand now, Izuku rips his hand away like the contact burns. Probably because it does, even if it’s just his imagination.
“I’m sorry,” Izuku sobs, pulling his knees to his chest and hugging them. “I’m sorry, I r-ruined everything.”
Kacchan seems slightly bewildered by this turn of events, but he’s been being bewildered by Izuku for years. He scoots a little further away and takes it in stride, because he’s amazing like that. “Again, breathe . I can’t even understand you through all that gross.”
Izuku’s really not sure he would be able to stop if he hadn’t cried out half his moisture earlier, but he did, so he manages to pull himself together—or at least stop making wounded animal sounds every time he takes a breath—in record time. (Record time being a pretty low bar for Izuku Midoriya.)
“I’m sorry,” he repeats, mumbling into his knees. He can’t bear to see Kacchan when he breaks this news. “I ruined everything.”
This earns him a quiet scoff. “What is it this time? Some kitten you pull out of a tree get a scratch and now the world’s gonna burn?”
“No, not—not everything everything.” As someone who’s done most of the heavy lifting to save the world before, this is an important clarification for Izuku to make. “Just… my everything.”
A second too late he realizes that if this conversation ends with Izuku ruining their relationship, it now also ends with Izuku admitting that their relationship is his everything . Ugh, of course he had to run his mouth and make things worse. As per usual. Izuku groans and curls further into himself.
“Okay,” Kacchan says, sounding more serious now. “You get into a fight with Round Face or some—”
“Can I get through this? Please,” Izuku begs. “Because you’re not gonna guess and it’s something you really need to hear even if I don’t want you to hear it and if I don’t do this right here and right now I’m going to lose my mind—”
Kacchan cuts him off this time. “Alright, Izuku. Say what you gotta say.”
Just what he needed right now. More unprompted grace and understanding from the guy whose life he’s about to upend. Izuku takes a big breath. He’s used to getting a lot of words out at once; this should be a piece of cake.
“My DNA test results came back and it said we’re soulmates. Well it didn’t say we’re soulmates, but it basically did because I have an almost-total colorblindness bond and the only way for everyone to miss me seeing all the colors at once is for me to have met my soulmate when I was tiny, and the only person I met when I was that tiny was you, and I went through this whole thing with my mom already and she said that when we met, she and Auntie Mitsuki couldn’t get us to stop crying for no reason and it was really weird, but then after that I was really interested in some ladybug and you were really interested in the grass, like red and green, and so that basically all just confirms it, and—”
Izuku pauses to take another breath, but in that brief silence, he realizes it’s just that. Pure silence. He can’t even hear Kacchan breathing next to him. On the off chance the news of being soulmates was terrible it literally sent Kacchan to an early grave, Izuku raises his head just enough to look at him. Izuku really hopes he’s not dead. Surviving the world’s end but dying from the mere thought of a lifetime with Izuku seems unbalanced somehow.
Kacchan is sitting stock still. His face is drained of its color and his eyes—his red, red eyes, the color of apples and blood and seventeen years of heartbreak and joy, the very things, Izuku supposes, that started this whole debacle—are wide, glued to Izuku. They’re the only part of him moving, rapidly darting across every inch of Izuku’s form, like he’s trying to figure out if this is all a bad dream or not.
“...yeah,” Izuku finishes lamely. “So. I’m sorry.”
God, he wishes this was just a bad dream.