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Plastic figurine eyes and printed poster stares judge Izuku from every possible angle. There are fewer now than just an hour earlier; empty spots dot the shelves, ghosts of memorabilia now packed away. Kacchan will have to reorganize their—his collection later. For now, Izuku just ticks off boxes in his mental inventory as he carefully wraps his belongings and puts them into a brown cardboard box. He's nearly done. Thank goodness. He’s a blink away from breaking down. This isn’t what he’s supposed to be doing right now. They both finally have the same day off. This weekend was supposed to be spent planning date night and making grocery lists. Instead, Izuku is planning for a future he never wanted. A life without Kacchan. The Pro-Hero’s hand shakes as he caresses the Silver Age Limited Edition All Might Action Figure still in its original box. He’d never seen one in the flesh until he and Kacchan had moved in together. Four years of dating and yet Izuku had no idea Kacchan owned such a rare piece. The other Pro was always protective of his collection. He never saw the point in having them out on display; they are for him and him alone, after all. Izuku could never convince him otherwise. Until they were looking at apartments. Izuku was placing their furniture and creating futures with his words at every showing. Kacchan scowled at him while grilling each landlord. Once he flat-out screamed, “Shut up, Deku! What’s the point in all your mumbling if they don’t even have a security system?” At the last place, Izuku had no words. He walked around in awe as he saw their life play out like a movie before his eyes. Katsuki noticed, he always does, but gave Izuku space to enjoy the moment. When Kacchan found him standing in the center of the—this—spare bedroom, he didn’t even laugh when Izuku confidently stated, “And this is where we can put all our collectables. Just imagine them lining the walls! Our collection would be complete. It’s perfect.” It was perfect. “The fuck do you think you're doing, nerd?” There’s no air in the room. When Izuku turns, Kacchan is already halfway to him, his stomps muffled by the futon Izuku has been sleeping on for the last three days. Their hands brush briefly as he rips the box out from beneath Izuku’s fingers. “This one was mine, remember?” Izuku turns to his partn—to Katsuki with a frown of his own. “I wasn’t packing that one.” “Coulda fooled me.” Red eyes fall down to the box at Izuku’s feet and he growls. “Look at this!” The other man reaches down and picks up the chibi All Might figurine, only available to the first 100 people who bought the collector’s edition of the All Might Power Hour series. “You’re already stealing my stuff!” “No!” Izuku reaches for the figurine only for Katsuki to hold it out of reach. “That one is mine! Yours is still over there on the shelf!” “No, that one is yours. Yours is the one missing the top corner of his right hair piece.” “What? When did that happen?” Katsuki gives him a pointed look. “Third year?” And suddenly Izuku does remember the particularly rough fuck that knocked several of his action figures off the wall. Chibi All Might included. Izuku knows he can’t fight the red spreading up his neck, so he buries his head in his collar and keeps his eyes downcast. “Right.” There’s a moment of silence before Katsuki sets the figurine back on the shelf. He takes two steps to the door before he stops. “What the fuck are you doing?” Izuku looks up then, but all he sees is Kacchan’s tensed back. He sighs against the weight in his chest. “I’m not trying to take anything of yours on purpose.” “Why are you giving up?” The stretched strings of Izuku’s resolve snap. “I’m giving up?” Kacchan turns, all heat and no sympathy in his eyes. Like always. “You’re the one leaving, aren’t ‘cha?” “Because nothing ever changes!” “What more do you want? I’ve given you everything you wanted, haven’t I? You wanted to move in together, you wanted that ring on your finger, the fuck else could I have done?” “You could’ve talked to me!” Izuku’s voice is too high; he hates when it gets like this, but he can never quite control it when he’s upset. “That’s all I’ve ever asked for.” “That’s all?” Kacchan barks a humorless laugh. “What have I been trying to do?” “I know you’ve been trying--” “Then?” “It’s not enough to just try.” “The fuck!” The pillow flies across the room and into the wall thanks to Kacchan’s powerful kick. “What kind of bullshit is that?” “I can’t keep guessing what you’re thinking, Kacchan.” The air in the room had never come back and Izuku is starting to feel the last of his supply dwindle. “Some days I can’t tell which scowls mean you’ve had a bad day and which mean I’ve forgotten something important. I can’t tell which smiles are meant for me or are making fun of me. I can’t read your mind.” “I’m not fucking asking you to!” “Aren’t you!” Katsuki freezes but time picks up. “All I wanted was for you to talk to me! I come home and I have no idea what I’m walking in to. Are you happy? Are you not? After a long day of patrols, I don’t want to fight with you, too. So, I’m stuck walking on eggshells, in my own home. You never tell me when things are wrong until we’re too far gone. But if you’re not screaming, you aren’t talking. “And when it’s not coming home, I’m afraid to walk out the door. Because, hell if I know why, but you always get so angry when patrols run late or I get offered extended missions, even though that’s our jobs. We’re heroes, and I don’t get to decide how long that takes. I never say anything about your late nights, but if I’m held up, I come home to the cold shoulder! “Don’t you get it? Don’t you get that I just don’t understand. I want to; I really, really want to understand you, Kacchan. But you don’t tell me. And if you don’t tell me, nothing can ever change, and I can’t keep living like this. I just can’t.” Finally, Izuku’s air runs out. He silently gasps in as many breaths as he can, but there’s never enough oxygen. His eyes burn and his cheeks are wet and he hates that. Kacchan hates when he cries, as if Izuku can control it, but no one hates his tears more than him. The words he’s just said slowly catch up to him now and they cause his ears to burn. He shouldn’t have to say these things, to repeat the same complaints in new words every fight. Except, this time will be the last. There will be no more fights because there will be no more “them.” That thought makes Izuku want to vomit. “...you don’t understand?” The words come out as a whisper and hit Izuku like a whip. Through his blurry eyes, Izuku can’t really tell that Katsuki has come in close until a palm that can control him as well as it can control explosions grips at the front of his shirt. “You don’t understand? What the fuck is there to understand! Do you want me to not give a fuck when you come in late? Do you not want me to worry if you’ve gotten yourself killed? Do you not want me to be pissed that they put us on those separate dumbass missions where I can’t fucking have your back?” Katsuki’s free hand comes up and grips Izuku’s chin roughly, straightening the other’s face so there’s nowhere to look but into Kacchan’s pain-filled eyes. “I don’t say shit because there’s nothing to say. To me it’s fucking simple. I love you, so what else is there to understand?” Pain strikes through Izuku’s chest. He wants to scream because that’s not enough. Love doesn’t save them from the fights, from the misunderstandings, from the fundamental differences in how they see the world. It hurts because Izuku loves Kacchan more, he means it every time he says it, but there’s no way to stop their fights from happening again. He’s tried. And the time for trying has come to an end. He should keep packing, he should finally take the ring off his finger, he should— Kacchan’s lips still send electricity down Izuku’s spine. Even after all these years. And while Izuku’s mind is still running a mile a minute, his chest begging for air and his heart pounding against its ribbed cage, his lips are already moving on their own. Kissing is easier than being; the muscle memory kicks in. He feels trapped, both literally and figuratively, because Izuku could stop this, probably without even using his quirk. Only he can’t. He really can’t. Instead, his hands slide into the dip of Kacchan’s hip bones with his thumbs reaching under the edge of his lounge shirt to rub against well defined abs. Katsuki reacts like he’s been touched with a hot iron, his body jerking slightly only to lean in closer. The kiss deepens. Their mouths open and there’s no words this time, just tongues that slide against each other in perfect understanding. Izuku is falling. He feels himself detach as clearly as he feels Katsuki’s hot breath against his neck when they finally pull apart. The kisses against his throat catch the gasp of surprise Izuku wants to give when Kacchan’s hands suddenly catch him under the thighs to lift him up. As soon as he’s up in the air, Izuku’s going down. Katsuki easily lowers the two of them to futon below, his knees meeting the bedding one at a time before putting Izuku on his back. Izuku’s legs are still held up around Katsuki’s waist, powerful, but trembling nonetheless. In this position, his ass is pressed into Kacchan’s hard erection. “Kacchan,” Izuku breathes to the ceiling, his eyes falling closed. The hands on his thighs grip harder into his skin. “What, Deku?” Again, Kacchan isn’t saying what he’s thinking, but Izuku hears it in his voice. He’s waiting for Izuku to stop this. He’s expecting Izuku to leave. He’s afraid he still will. “Can you get the lube?” The way Katsuki’s grip relaxes makes his heart clench and his quiet, thankful, “yeah,” is enough to shatter whatever is left of Izuku’s sanity. Izuku’s legs fall to the futon, but he doesn’t bother stretching them out. There’s still time to stop this; he can sit up and leave right now. But he doesn’t. He waits for Kacchan to return in exactly the same position as he was left in. He leans up to catch Katsuki’s lips in a kiss when he’s back in his position too. He helps remove both their clothes, ignores how reverently Kacchan touches his body, and, all the while, he screams at himself to stop. Katsuki’s lubed finger slides into his ass easily. There’s no stretch or burn as his whole body just gives into the movement. For a bit, there’s actually nothing, no pleasure, no pain. But Kacchan doesn’t let that continue for long. This isn’t like their first time. They aren’t young idiots fumbling in Kacchan’s dark dorm room who go too fast and too hard because that’s what they’ve learned from porn. Katsuki knows how to angle his finger into Izuku’s prostate and drag a moan from his throat. He remembers how Izuku loves having his leg hooked up over Katsuki’s shoulder so the angle is just right when he scissors him open further. But more importantly, their bodies remember what it feels like to fuck. “Deku,” Katsuki snarls as he pushes all the way into Izuku’s still incredibly tight ass and Izuku can’t respond. He has no words. Kacchan fills him up and Izuku’s insides perfectly accommodate his dick. They’re made for this, for each other, and each thrust only drives that point home. “Hgnn, Kacchan, I’m—” Izuku stops as Kacchan reaches forward to pinch at one of his nipples. He digs his teeth into his lower lip but nothing can stop the orgasm that spreads through him like a tsunami and causes spurts of cum to cover both of their abdomens. Izuku can breathe again. The thrusting gets faster now. Still, it’s three more minutes before Kacchan cums too. Izuku’s orgasm is long done by the time Katsuki finally pulls out. And so is the pleasure. All Izuku feels now is pain as Kacchan falls to his left side. Izuku’s staring at the ceiling again, but he can see the figurine eyes and printed poster stares from the corner of his vision. He snaps his eyes shut and turns onto his side. The voice that comes from behind him is too distant and rough to be Kacchan’s. “Are we ok?” His eyes can’t close any harder. “...yeah, we’re ok.” The arm that wraps around his waist makes Izuku want to cry, but instead he chases sleep. He can unpack again in the morning. If he remembers.