Chapter Text
i.
"Rumor has it, his agency’s trying to bury the story."
Izuku’s head snapped up from the glowing screen of his laptop.
His fingers were mid-hover over the keyboard, frozen in place. He wasn’t the type to indulge in gossip anymore, he barely had time for it, not since stepping into the demanding role of a teacher at U.A. But it was heroes they were talking about. And no matter how much he tried to brush off such chatter, there was still something in him, that endless curiosity, that made it impossible to tune out.
The voice belonged to one of his students, her words drifting lazily through the half-empty classroom. Most of the others had filed out by now, but a handful lingered, as they often did, dragging out the after-class calm. Izuku glanced toward them, his eyes narrowing slightly.
He sighed and shut his laptop with a soft click, careful not to make it seem too abrupt, though his pulse had already started to pick up.
"What are you all talking about?"
Izuku leaned back slightly in his chair. He tried to keep his voice casual, as if he wasn’t hanging on every word.
The girl who had spoken grinned at him, her chair screeching as she dragged it across the floor toward his desk. Her enthusiasm was contagious, and soon a few others joined, one even lazily floating their chair across the room using their quirk. The chair thudded into place, and Izuku opened his mouth to say something about the school rule they were blatantly ignoring, but then shut it again.
Who was he to scold? He’d done far worse as a student.
Instead, he folded his arms on the desk and raised an eyebrow.
"Well?" he pressed, his tone just on the edge of curiosity and reluctance. “No one’s answering my question…”
"Sensei," the girl said with a conspiratorial smirk, sliding her phone across the desk toward him. "It’s wild. You’re gonna wanna see this."
Another leaned in, his phone also glowing as he tapped the screen.
"Yeah, check the headlines. It's everywhere. Kind of hard to believe it’s real, though."
Izuku hesitated, his stomach sinking as the glowing headlines stared back at him from the screens they were shoving toward him.
The first read: "Pro Hero Dynamight Caught in Leaked Tape: Agency Scrambles to Respond"
And below it, a blurry still from what was unmistakably a sex tape.
Izuku’s mouth went dry. "Where... where did you find this?"
“Oh, it gets worse.” Another student chimed in, showing him another headline. “Look.”
It reads: "Dynamight Spotted with a Black Eye After Scandal Breaks! What Happened?"
"It’s everywhere," the girl says, "Twitter, HeroNews, even mainstream media’s picking it up. People are calling it ‘BoomGate.’"
Izuku’s chest tightened, though he wasn’t entirely sure why.
Someone laughs, "Guess he’s not as perfect as he acts-”
“Hey.” Izuku didn’t laugh. "That’s enough. Class is over, remember? Go home."
There were groans of protest, but slowly, they began to disperse, leaving Izuku alone.
The classroom felt far too quiet all of a sudden.
Then, with a deep breath that did nothing to steady the sinking feeling in his chest, Izuku reached for his own phone.
The screen lit up, showing a string of notifications. Missed calls. Messages. A few from Ochako. Most were from his old classmates. And at the top of the pile, their old high school group chat was blowing up. The notifications blinked like they were mocking him, each one pulling him further into a familiar anxiety.
He hesitated before opening it. His thumb hovered over the screen, the pit in his stomach deepening as he braced himself. It’s just a group chat, he told himself. Just your friends, just your classmates… nothing more. But when he finally tapped into the chat, the deluge of messages made his breath hitch.
Mina: Holy shit, can someone PLEASE tell me that video isn’t real?
Denki: Of course it’s real. Who would fake something like that?
Kirishima: You guys should stop spreading it around. Seriously.
Tsuyu: What’s with the black eye though?
Shouto: This isn’t something we should speculate about in a group chat. Let Bakugou handle it.
Mina: Ugh, but I wanna KNOW.
The messages blurred together as Izuku scrolled through them, his heart pounding in his ears. He wasn’t sure if it was the content of the conversation or the realization of how distant he’d become from everyone that hit him harder.
He closed the chat before he could overthink it any further, swiping back to his home screen and staring blankly at the wallpaper of him and Ochako. They were smiling, arms slung around each other’s shoulders, with the U.A. campus in the background.
He tried to calm himself down, gripping the edges of his desk. But the knot in his stomach didn’t loosen.
It wasn’t like he and Katsuki had been close lately.
Life had a way of slipping through their fingers, adulthood pulling them in different directions. He’d tried to keep in touch. Really, he had. But with Ochako and him trying to find an apartment that wasn’t absurdly expensive and still close enough to U.A. and her agency, time felt like a luxury he couldn’t afford.
Eight months.
That’s how long it had been since the whole class had gotten together for drinks. Eight months since he’d had a real conversation with Katsuki that lasted longer than five minutes. He couldn’t even remember what they’d talked about the last time.
Something stupid, probably.
The weather, maybe? Work? Nothing like the things they used to share back at U.A.
And now… this.
It made him feel… weird. No, not weird. Wrong.
His hand hovered over his phone, his thumb brushing the screen. He wanted to call. To check in. To ask Katsuki what the hell was going on. But with the current distance between them, he wasn’t sure if Katsuki would even pick up.
He didn’t even know Katsuki was dating anyone. When had that happened? Katsuki wasn’t the type to open up about things like that. Hell, Izuku couldn’t even remember a time Katsuki had ever shown the slightest interest in anyone.
He chuckled to himself, shaking his head. A memory came back, unbidden, of all the times he used to tease Katsuki. Back when they were teenagers, it was almost a running joke, how Katsuki found girls annoying and actively avoided them. He’d storm off, red-faced, if anyone so much as suggested he was blushing because of some girl.
And now? A sex tape? It was absurd.
It was hilarious, really.
Katsuki, who couldn’t stand someone brushing against him in the hallways without snarling, agreeing to something like that?
Years ago, after the war with All For One, Katsuki’s popularity had exploded. It earned him legions of fangirls who would chase him across campus, begging for pictures and autographs. Izuku smirked at the image of it. Katsuki, cornered near the dormitories, snapping at them to "fuck off" before darting into the nearest empty classroom like his life depended on it. The way he’d slam the door shut, cursing under his breath, and yell through the cracks for them to leave him the hell alone, it was almost endearing in hindsight.
Katsuki had always been so private .
Had.
Izuku shook his head again, but this time, it wasn’t in amusement. His curiosity gnawed at him, relentless and unshakable. He unlocked his phone and opened his browser, fingers hesitating over the search bar.
"This is stupid," he muttered to himself, but it didn’t stop him. “This is so stupid.”
He typed in the keywords. The headlines popped up instantly.
His thumb hovered over the video link. He hesitated for a moment longer, trying to rationalize it.
He might as well see who she is, he thought, because she must be something else to get Kacchan to agree to-
He couldn’t even finish the thought before he clicked.
The video loaded slowly, the screen filling with dim lighting and muffled noises. He leaned in, his heart pounding in his chest. A fleeting thought crossed his mind, she must be stunning, someone so out of this world that even Katsuki’s stubbornness couldn’t hold out.
But then the video started.
And Izuku froze.
The sound hit him first.
Low, breathy moans, punctuated by Katsuki’s unmistakable voice, growling something sharp and guttural. His eyes darted to the screen, and that’s when he saw it.
It wasn’t a woman.
It was a man.
A man, broad and muscular, his hand gripping Katsuki’s waist as their bodies moved together with an intensity that made Izuku’s chest tighten. The camera angle wasn’t subtle, there was no mistaking what was happening. Katsuki’s face was flushed, his expression vulnerable in a way Izuku had never seen before, his mouth slightly open as he-
Izuku slammed his phone down onto the desk, his breath hitching in his throat.
He pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead, his mind racing.
Kacchan. With a man.
Izuku sat back in his chair, his hands trembling slightly as they hovered over his phone. He couldn’t stop replaying the image in his head, couldn’t unhear the way Katsuki’s voice had sounded, raw, unguarded, and so utterly real .
Izuku stared at his phone he’d slammed down just moments ago. His breath came in shallow bursts, his mind screaming at him to let it go. Forget about it. Move on. There were a hundred reasons why he shouldn’t even think about opening the video again.
First and foremost, Katsuki wouldn’t want anyone seeing him like that.
Seeing him sprawled out, lips parted, letting someone, someone whose face Izuku hadn’t even seen, take him so completely.
And yet, against every ounce of common sense, his hand moved. Shaking slightly, it hovered over his phone before picking it up again. His thumb swiped across the screen, unlocking it.
Izuku clicked on the video.
It started playing again, the same dim lighting casting everything in shadows. He leaned forward, his eyes wide, unblinking, as if he was trying to make sense of it. The room was sparse, nearly bare. A cheap, empty space with basic furniture that screamed love hotel.
That alone made him huff out a laugh, though it was more out of disbelief than humor. The Kacchan he knew, the prideful, sharp-tongued Katsuki Bakugou, would never set foot in a place like this. Katsuki would call it a dump, muttering under his breath about how disgusting the sheets probably were.
But there he was.
The mystery man had his back to the camera, his broad shoulders and muscular frame silhouetted against the faint glow of a bedside lamp. Izuku couldn’t see his face, it was obscured entirely by the shadows and the angle of the camera. The darkness enveloped most of the room, leaving only Katsuki’s face fully illuminated.
Flushed and shining with sweat, Katsuki’s blonde hair was messy, sticking to his forehead, his lips slightly parted as his head tipped back against the pillows. The sounds he made-
Izuku’s hand gripped the edge of his desk, his knuckles turning white.
The camera caught movement, subtle but unmistakable. The man’s back flexed with each motion, his muscles tensing and relaxing, the faint sheen of sweat catching the dim light. And then Izuku noticed them. Red lines streaking down the man’s back. Long, thin scratches that ran across his skin in jagged paths.
His breath caught. Those weren’t just any scratches. They were Katsuki’s.
His nails had done that.
Izuku let out a laugh, though it sounded wrong in his ears. Hollow. Forced. It barely covered the pounding of his heart as he stared at the screen, at the undeniable proof of what Katsuki had been doing.
The desk groaned under his grip as his fingers tightened. His muscles tensed, his jaw clenched, and then the wood beneath his hands cracked with a sharp snap. He barely noticed.
The video continued.
He moans. Kacchan fucking moans.
Izuku’s grip tightened instinctively on his phone, and a faint crackling sound pulled him out of his haze. His gaze flicked down to the top right corner of his phone. He sees a jagged fracture spiderwebbed across the phone’s screen, the pressure from his hold slowly crushing it.
“Shit.”
Izuku’s fingers relaxed slightly, but his hand didn’t leave the phone. He couldn’t bring himself to put it down.
“Damn it.”
ii.
Izuku stood outside Uravity’s agency.
The city bustled around him, but Izuku barely noticed.
His mind was elsewhere, spinning in endless loops, replaying things he didn’t want to see but couldn’t seem to forget.
Katsuki’s flushed face, the way his voice had sounded, the jagged cracks on his phone screen.
“Hey! Earth to Izuku!”
The sound of fingers snapping in front of his face jolted him back to reality. He blinked, startled, and looked up to see Ochako standing in front of him, her head tilted slightly, a teasing smile on her lips.
“Oh, sorry, I... uh…”
Izuku trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. He forced a smile.
Ochako had changed out of her uniform, now dressed in one of his old shirts, faded from too many washes, and a pair of casual pants. The sight of her wearing something of his was usually enough to make him feel lighter, but tonight, it only added to the weight in his chest.
“Here, let me get that.” he said quickly, reaching for the bag slung over her shoulder.
She let him take it for all of two seconds before pulling it back with a firm tug. “I can carry it on my own, thanks.”
“Oh. Right,” he said, dropping his hands awkwardly to his sides. “So, um, how was work?”
Ochako smiled again, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Busy,” she said. “The usual.”
Then, before he could ask more, she turned the question back on him. “What about you? Hectic day?”
Izuku latched onto the topic eagerly, his words spilling out in a nervous rush. “Yeah, yeah. Super hectic. Exams are coming up, and the students are all over the place. I swear, half of them act like they’ve never heard the word ‘study’ before. And then there’s the prep work, which is just... Wow, so much paperwork. It’s like-”
Ochako nodded along, humming softly as he talked. She was listening, at least, he thought she was, but her expression remained distant, like her mind was somewhere else entirely. And then, as he paused to take a breath, she stepped closer and gently squeezed his arm.
“Izuku,” she said softly, her voice cutting through his rambling. “How are you doing?”
His brow furrowed, confused by the shift in her tone. “Me? I’m fine. Why?”
She gave him a pointed look, her thumb brushing over the fabric of his sleeve. “After what happened with Bakugou.”
The mention of Katsuki’s name hit him like a shock of cold water. His smile faltered, just for a moment, before he forced it back into place.
“Oh, that,” he said, laughing nervously. “I mean… it’s not really any of my business, right? Whatever’s going on with Kacchan, that’s his life.”
Ochako’s eyes searched his face, her expression soft but unrelenting. “You’re sure?”
Izuku nodded quickly, too quickly. “Yeah, I’m sure. Really. I’m fine.”
But the way her hand lingered on his arm told him she didn’t quite believe him.
And, truthfully, he wasn’t sure he believed himself either.
But Izuku’s insistence that he was fine seemed to satisfy Ochako, at least enough for her to let it go. She gave his arm one last gentle squeeze before releasing him, and the two of them started walking.
But Izuku couldn’t stay quiet for long.
“It’s just… it’s not like Kacchan at all ,” he blurted out suddenly, his voice quick and uneven. “To record something like that, I mean. He’s private, you know? I don’t think I’ve ever seen him willingly let anyone into his personal space, let alone do… that. On camera. For it to exist, it doesn’t make sense.”
Ochako blinked, startled by the sudden rush of words, but before she could respond, Izuku kept going.
“It had to be that other guy’s idea,” he continued, his words spilling out so fast they tripped over each other. “Like, Kacchan wouldn’t agree to something like that unless someone pushed him into it. He’s too careful, too stubborn. I bet it was their idea. His-”
Izuku faltered, his lips stumbling over the next word.
“His… uh…”
“Boyfriend?” Ochako supplied.
“Right, yeah,” Izuku said quickly, nodding as if the word had no weight to it. But the way his ears turned pink betrayed him. “His boyfriend. That’s what I mean. It had to be his boyfriend’s idea. Someone like that wouldn’t care about Kacchan’s privacy. Someone who.... who’d take advantage of him like that. Who’d… who’d put him in a position to-”
He gestured vaguely, his voice growing louder with every word.
“To put something like that out there. It’s just not fair to him. It’s not !”
Ochako’s brow furrowed as she glanced at him, trying to find a moment to interject, but Izuku wasn’t done.
“Kacchan shouldn’t stay with people like that,” he said, his voice almost pleading now, looking at Ochako. “People who don’t care about his reputation. About his name. About how this could ruin everything he’s worked for. It’s not just his life, he’s a hero. His agency’s probably scrambling to do damage control because of this, and it’s all because... because he trusted someone like that.”
Ochako opened her mouth, but Izuku’s next words cut her off.
“And Kacchan’s gay,” he said suddenly, the words tumbling out like they surprised even him. “Did you know that? He’s gay, and I didn’t even know. All this time, I never- I mean, I never asked, I guess. I never thought to ask. Maybe I didn’t… pay attention.”
The realization seemed to knock the wind out of him, his rambling faltering as he stared down at the ground. His hands were stuffed deep into his jacket pockets, clenched tightly, and his pace slowed. Ochako walked silently beside him for a moment, her face softening as she watched him spiral.
“Do you want to talk about it, Izuku?”
Izuku startled at the question, his head snapping toward her. For a second, he probably looked like a deer caught in headlights, his thoughts jumbled and on full display. Then, with a nervous laugh, he shook his head quickly, his hands coming out of his pockets to gesture vaguely.
“No, no, I’ve been talking too much already,” he said, his voice rushed and uneven. “You should tell me about your day instead. I’ve been rambling, and you’ve probably had a long day, yeah, tell me about work.”
Ochako hesitated, her eyes searching his face for a moment before she relented.
“It wasn’t that exciting,” she said with a small shrug. “Mostly just reports. Crime’s been pretty low lately, so there’s not much to do aside from paperwork. Which is probably why the press is eating up what happened with Bakugou.”
Ochako paused, watching his reaction carefully, then she says, “It’s the most exciting thing to happen with heroes in weeks.”
Izuku stopped abruptly, turning to her with a sharp shake of his head.
“It’s not exciting,” he said, his voice firm and insistent. “Not at all. I can imagine Kacchan losing his mind over this. He’s probably shouting at his agency right now, telling them to get the video taken down. And they’re probably fumbling, because it’s still up.”
Ochako winced at his tone, her hand coming up to rub her arm. She glanced away for a moment, then looked back at him, her expression soft but cautious. “Did you… watch it?”
Izuku froze. His eyes widened, his lips parting as if to speak, but no words came out. His mouth opened and closed a few times, his gaze darting between Ochako and the ground.
“I, uh…” He looked away, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. “I mean, it’s not like... I didn’t watch it because I wanted to.”
Izuku paused, his fingers tightening in his hair. “It’s just… my students were talking about it. They showed me the headlines, and I... I just wanted to make sure it was Kacchan, that’s all. And it… it was.”
The last words came out quieter, his voice almost a murmur as he kept his eyes fixed firmly on the pavement. Ochako didn’t say anything right away, her gaze lingering on him, her expression unreadable. Then, she nodded slowly.
“I see…”
The silence that followed was heavy, and Izuku could feel it pressing down on him, wrapping around his chest like a vice. He didn’t look at her again, couldn’t bring himself to. Instead, he shoved his hands back into his pockets and started walking again, his steps quicker, as though he could outrun the weight of the conversation.
“If you want to visit Bakugou, you should.”
Izuku’s head turned sharply toward her, his eyes wide with surprise.
“What? No, I-” He shook his head quickly, “We were going to go over the apartments we found this week, remember? That’s what we planned. We don’t have to change that.”
Ochako smiled at him, a soft, understanding smile that held no judgment.
“We don’t have to rush anything,” she said gently. “We’ll figure out the apartment when we figure it out. There’s no deadline, Izuku.”
Izuku sighed, running a hand through his hair as they stopped at the edge of the crosswalk, waiting for the light to change.
“You’ve been doing most of the work with that, though,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, almost guilty. “I mean, with how busy you’ve been, it’s not fair for me to keep putting more on you-”
“Hey,” Ochako cut him off softly. He turned to her, and her smile was still there, warm and unwavering. “It’s fine. Really. You’ve got a lot going on, too. But Bakugou could probably use a friend right now.”
Izuku opened his mouth to argue, but nothing came out.
Instead, he looked down at the ground, his shoulders slumping slightly.
The thought of him, alone and dealing with all of this, dealing with himself, stirred something in Izuku’s chest. He bit the inside of his cheek, trying to find a reason to brush it off, to say it wasn’t his responsibility, but the truth was there, staring him in the face.
And so, when the light changed, they started walking again, each heading in opposite directions.
iii.
Izuku stood outside Katsuki’s apartment door, his heart hammering against his ribs.
Sweat dripped down his temples, soaking the back of his shirt. His breathing was ragged, and his legs burned from the climb. The paparazzi swarming the building’s lobby had been relentless, their cameras clicking like a swarm of locusts, but thankfully, Izuku remembered the back entrance.
He’d ducked through the alley, slipping inside and avoiding detection, then taken the stairs two at a time until he reached Katsuki’s floor. Now, he was here, right outside Katsuki’s apartment. And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to knock.
His hand hovered in front of the door, trembling slightly. He could just do it, get it over with. It wasn’t that hard. A simple knock, a quick conversation, and maybe, just maybe, he could help.
But his hand dropped to his side, and he began pacing instead, his shoes scuffing against the hallway floor.
What was he even doing here? Was this the right thing to do? Did Katsuki even want to see him?
He stopped in front of the door again, taking a deep breath.
“Fuck it.”
Before he could second-guess himself, his knuckles rapped against the wood.
The sound echoed faintly in the empty hallway, and Izuku held his breath, his heart pounding harder with each passing second. For a moment, he thought Katsuki might not answer. That maybe he wasn’t even home.
But then the door opened.
Katsuki stood in the doorway, his hood pulled up over his head, the fabric of the oversized hoodie swallowing his frame. His face was pale, and the hood cast a shadow over his features, but Izuku could still see it.
The black eye.
It stood out like a bruise on porcelain, the skin around it dark and swollen. But that wasn’t what stopped Izuku’s breath. It was the redness in Katsuki’s eyes, the unmistakable puffiness that came from crying.
Katsuki’s lips parted slightly when he saw Izuku, but whatever he was going to say never made it out. His expression shifted, falling into something colder, harsher, and he moved to slam the door shut without a word.
“Wait!” Izuku yelled, throwing out his hand just in time to stop it. The edge of the door smacked into his palm, the force of it stinging, but he pushed against it, his shoulder bracing as he forced it open. “Kacchan, wait!”
The door creaked under the strain, and for a moment, Katsuki didn’t push back. He just stood there, glaring at Izuku with bloodshot eyes, his jaw clenched so tightly that Izuku could almost hear his teeth grinding.
“What the fuck are you even doing here?”
Izuku didn’t answer right away, his breath catching in his throat as he met Katsuki’s gaze.
“I just…” He swallowed hard, his hand still pressed against the door. “I wanted to check on you.”
“I’m fine, Izuku.”
Izuku’s patience snapped.
“You don’t look fine, Kacchan!” he shot back, his voice rising. “You look like you haven’t slept, like you haven’t even showered today. You’re-”
Izuku faltered for half a second, his eyes darting to Katsuki’s red-rimmed eyes and the way his hoodie seemed to swallow him whole. Did he even have a hoodie like that in the first place? This is the first time Izuku’s ever seen it.
“You’re a mess.”
“Then leave! ” Katsuki barked, “Get the fuck outta here, Izuku! Go back to whatever the hell you were doing.”
But Izuku had already had enough. His fingers tugged at his tie, loosening it as his breath came fast and shallow. He could feel the frustration coursing through him, his hands trembling as they curled into fists.
“No. No, I don’t think I’m leaving just yet, Kacchan.”
Izuku stepped further into the apartment, ignoring Katsuki’s protests. His eyes scanned the room, darting from the sparse furniture to the takeout containers scattered on the kitchen counter. He wasn’t even sure what he was looking for, maybe proof of something, or someone.
Katsuki’s glare sharpened.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he snapped. “You’ve seen me, all right? I’m alive, I’m fine. Now get the hell out before I make you leave.”
Izuku turned back toward him, his eyes narrowing. “Where is he?”
Katsuki froze, his shoulders tensing. “The fuck are you talking about?”
Izuku rolled his eyes, his hands twitching at his sides. “Where’s your boyfriend, Kacchan?”
Katsuki’s face flushed instantly, a deep, angry red. His lips curled into a sneer, but he didn’t respond right away.
“You don’t have to cover for him,” Izuku pressed, his voice growing louder. “Just tell me where he is. I just-”
“I don’t have a boyfriend, you dumbass!” Katsuki snapped finally, his voice louder than it had been all night. “And I’m serious. Get. Out.”
But Izuku didn’t back down.
Instead, he scoffed and took another step deeper into the apartment, his gaze darting toward the closed bedroom door.
“You don’t?” Izuku muttered, his voice dripping with disbelief. “Because that video-”
Izuku’s hands gesture wildly.
“That video wasn’t like you at all!” he shouted, “You hate this kind of stuff, Kacchan. You’re private, careful. You wouldn’t just do something that stupid unless someone, unless that bastard made you!”
“Izuku-”
“No, listen!” Izuku yelled, cutting him off, his voice rising. He waved his arms, his movements frantic. “Whoever he is, you need to leave him. He’s... I know he’s making you do bad things, Kacchan! That video, it had to be his idea, right? He’s... he’s probably pushing you into-”
“SHUT UP!”
Katsuk lunged forward, grabbing Izuku by the collar with both hands. The sudden motion caught Izuku off guard, and his breath hitched as Katsuki yanked him close.
His grip was strong, unrelenting, his knuckles brushing against Izuku’s jaw as he shook him hard enough to rattle his teeth. Katsuki’s face was a mix of fury and something far more raw, his bloodshot eyes blazing.
“Shut the fuck up, Deku!” Katsuki growled, his voice trembling. “You don’t know shit! You don’t know him!”
Izuku’s hands came up to grip Katsuki’s wrists, but he didn’t try to pull away.
“He would never do that!” Katsuki shouted, shaking him again. His voice cracked, “He would NEVER-”
Katsuki stopped abruptly, his chest heaving as the words seemed to catch in his throat. His hands stayed locked on Izuku’s collar, trembling slightly as his glare bored into him. For a moment, neither of them moved, the tension so thick it felt suffocating. Izuku stared back at him, his breath shallow, his hands still holding Katsuki’s wrists as he searched his face for something he couldn’t name.
But Katsuki’s expression didn’t waver. His eyes burned with something fierce and unyielding, and his grip didn’t loosen.
The sound of the door creaking open broke the tense silence.
Both Izuku and Katsuki’s heads turned sharply, their confrontation momentarily forgotten.
Standing in the doorway was a tall, broad-shouldered man, his shaggy brown hair falling into his face in messy strands. He was wearing an oversized hoodie that oddly looked like a darker variation that Katsuki was wearing, the hood pushed back just enough to reveal glasses perched awkwardly on his nose.
The man hesitated, one foot hovering as though he wasn’t sure whether to step further inside or retreat back into the hall. His posture screamed discomfort, shoulders hunched as if he wanted to make himself smaller, though his sheer size made it impossible.
His gaze darted between Katsuki and Izuku, his expression wide-eyed and startled. A plastic bag dangled from one of his large hands, its contents clinking faintly as the scent of spices wafted through the air. Mapo Tofu.
Izuku’s stomach churned as he studied the man. He didn’t need to ask who he was. Even with the shaggy bangs hiding half his face, Izuku recognized him instantly. It was the guy from the video.
The man flushed under the weight of Izuku’s glare, his face turning a deep, embarrassed red. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words came out in a hushed stammer, barely audible.
“Uh, I... um… sorry, I…”
Izuku didn’t move, his eyes narrowing further as the man stumbled over his words. He looked like he might cry at any moment, his large frame shrinking even further as he fidgeted with the bag in his hand. Katsuki let out a sharp, exasperated sigh, releasing Izuku’s collar. The sudden absence of pressure left Izuku’s chest feeling oddly empty, but before he could process it, Katsuki was already stepping away.
“Kacchan…” Izuku started, but his voice faltered.
Katsuki ignored him. He crossed the room toward the man, his movements fluid but tired. The man tensed as Katsuki approached, his broad shoulders slumping even further, his head ducking like a scolded child.
“Oi,” Katsuki muttered, brushing his hand against the man’s cheek. His fingers were surprisingly gentle as they wiped away the tears pooling in the man’s eyes. “Quit your crying. You’re making it worse.”
The man sniffled, blinking rapidly behind his glasses as if trying to will the tears away.
“S-Sorry,” he mumbled, his voice cracking. “I didn’t know... I just-”
“Yeah, yeah,” Katsuki interrupted, his tone more resigned than angry. “I know. Shut up already.”
Izuku watched the scene unfold, his chest tightening in a way he couldn’t quite explain.
He felt… odd. Like he wasn’t even looking at Katsuki anymore.
The Katsuki he knew wouldn’t have been so patient, so calm, so… tender. Yet here he was, standing close to this man, this guy, and brushing away his tears like it was second nature.
Izuku’s hands clenched at his sides, his nails digging into his palms.
He snaps out of his daze.
Katsuki saw him coming just in time, his eyes narrowing as he shifted his stance. The man flinched behind Katsuki, his shoulders jerking up as though expecting a blow. Katsuki immediately stepped in front of him, his chest puffed out like a shield, daring Izuku to push further.
“Move, Kacchan,” Izuku said, his voice low, lips pulled into a tight, humorless chuckle. “I just want to talk to him.”
“Like hell you do,” Katsuki snapped, his red eyes sharp and unyielding. “Go home, Izuku. I’ve got this handled.”
Izuku’s jaw clenched, his hands trembling at his sides.
“The bastard’s not even saying anything!” he burst out, his voice rising. His glare cut past Katsuki to the cowering figure behind him. “You don’t think that’s a little suspicious, Kacchan? What kind of guy doesn’t even try to explain himself-”
“Izuku,” Katsuki interrupted, his tone heavy with warning. “Go home.”
Izuku didn’t stop.
His frustration surged, and before he could think better of it, he stepped to the side, trying to maneuver around Katsuki.
He didn’t get far. Katsuki shoved him.
It wasn’t a hard shove, but it was enough to make Izuku stumble back a few steps, his breath catching in his chest as he stared at Katsuki in surprise. Katsuki’s shoulders were squared, his glare now sharper than before.
“Stop it,” Katsuki growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Just fucking stop it.”
Izuku opened his mouth to argue, but Katsuki didn’t give him the chance.
“His name’s Kou,” Katsuki said, “He’s not just some bastard. Stop fucking calling him that.”
Izuku blinked, his anger momentarily replaced by confusion.
“What?”
Katsuki let out a frustrated sigh, dragging a hand down his face before leveling Izuku with a glare.
“You don’t know shit, Izuku. He’s a fucking saint, okay? He’s-” Katsuki paused, his lip curling slightly in irritation. “He’s too much of a damn prude. Wouldn’t’ve even been in that video if I hadn’t pushed him into it.”
The words made Izuku’s stomach sink even further.
“What?”
“It was my idea,” Katsuki said bluntly, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “All of it. The tape, the-”
Katsuki gestured vaguely, his jaw tightening.
“The whole fucking thing. Kou didn’t even want to do it. He’s a goddamn virgin. Doesn’t know shit about this kind of stuff.”
Izuku stared at him, his mind blanking as he struggled to process what he was hearing.
“You’re kidding.”
Katsuki’s glare didn’t waver. “Do I look like I’m kidding?”
Behind Katsuki, Kou’s face flushed deeper, his head dipping even lower as if he wished he could sink into the floor.
Izuku couldn’t think of a single thing to say, Katsuki had rendered him completely speechless.
Now that’s wrong, Izuku thinks, his chest tightening. Kacchan wouldn’t do this. He wouldn’t, he couldn’t. The idea of Katsuki, fierce, untouchable Katsuki, letting someone record something so raw didn’t make sense.
It couldn’t make sense.
Katsuki was supposed to be above this. He was amazing. A hero unlike anyone else. He was explosive and loud and brash, but he was also untouchable, perfect in a way that made him seem like an angel.
And this bastard, this stumbling, sniffling mess of a man, what right did he have to touch Katsuki like that?
To leave marks on his body? To even look at him like that?
Izuku shook his head hard, as if the motion could physically rid him of the thoughts crowding his brain.
“No-”
“I’m... I’m so sorry,” Kou mumbled, his words tumbling over themselves as he bowed his head slightly. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. Sir Deku, Bakugou-sama, I swear, I didn’t think.... my phone, I had no idea it would get stolen. I never wanted the video to get out. I-I wanted to talk to the press, to apologize, t-to explain, but…”
Kou’s words faltered, and he glanced nervously at Katsuki.
“Bakugou-sama wouldn’t let me.”
Izuku’s frown deepened as he looked at Katsuki. “You what? ”
“It’s not your fucking business.”
“Well, clearly, I’m here,” Izuku snapped, his frustration bleeding into his tone. “So maybe you could explain why you stopped him.”
Katsuki scowled, but when Izuku’s glare didn’t waver, he relented with an annoyed grunt.
“Fine. Since you’re not gonna shut up or leave…Kou’s about to graduate from university,” Katsuki explained, “He’s fucking smart, okay? He’s got a bright future ahead of him. Since I was the one who told him to-”
Katsuki cut himself off, his lips curling into a grimace before continuing.
“Since I was the one who got him to tape us fucking, I’m not gonna let him go down because of me.”
Izuku stared at him, his mouth slightly open in disbelief.
“What, is he gonna be a hero or something? Can’t let this tape dirty his shining future as the next Number One?”
“No, you goddamn idiot,” Katsuki growled. “Kou doesn’t want to be a hero.”
“Then why-”
“Kou wants to create hero gear,” Katsuki interrupted, his voice rising as he stepped forward, his stance as aggressive as ever. “He’s smart as fuck, smarter than half the extras we went to school with. And he doesn’t want to be a hero because he’s quirkless, you fucking moron.”
Izuku blinked, his brain stuttering to a halt at Katsuki’s words.
“Quirkless?”
Katsuki’s scowl deepened, his lips curling into a snarl. “That’s it. Get the hell out, Izuku.”
Izuku’s mouth opened to protest, but before he could even get a word out, Katsuki grabbed him by the shoulder and turned him toward the door. His grip was firm, unyielding, and with a single shove, Izuku stumbled out into the hallway.
“Kacchan-” Izuku started, spinning back around, but the door was already swinging shut.
It slammed in his face with a sharp bang, the sound reverberating through the empty hallway. Izuku froze, staring at the door as if it would open again, as if Katsuki might change his mind. But there was nothing. Just the solid wood in front of him, shutting him out completely.
Through the thin barrier, he could hear the faintest sounds from inside the apartment. Katsuki’s voice, low and muffled, a tone Izuku wasn’t used to hearing from him, gentle, almost soothing. Kou’s sniffles, still shaky and wet, followed, growing softer with every moment.
All he could do was stand there, as he imagined Kou retreating further into Katsuki’s apartment, further into a space that Izuku had just been forcibly ejected from.
iv.
Izuku sat heavily on his couch, his phone pressed to his ear.
“So, how’d it go?”
Izuku leaned back, rubbing at his temple with his free hand.
“It was… something,” he muttered, his voice low. “I met him. The guy. Kou.”
Ochako hummed thoughtfully. “Well, at least Bakugou wasn’t alone. That’s something, right? His boyfriend didn’t leave him or anything.”
“They’re not boyfriends,” Izuku said quickly, his words sharper than he intended. He sighed, running a hand down his face. “That guy… he’s just some university student. Probably still immature. I don’t know what Kacchan sees in him.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line, and then Ochako’s voice came, quieter this time.
“Izuku… that’s kind of mean.”
Izuku frowned but didn’t interrupt as she continued.
“The guy probably means well,” she said softly. “I mean, he stayed. And he’s there with Bakugou. That says a lot.”
Izuku let out a long sigh, the tension in his chest tightening. “You don’t get it.”
There was another pause, longer this time. When Ochako spoke again, her voice had an edge to it, a note of something sour.
“What don’t I get?”
Izuku shifted uncomfortably, suddenly wishing he hadn’t brought it up at all.
“Can we just… not?” he asked, his voice low. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
Ochako didn’t let it go.
“No, Izuku,” she said, her tone firmer now. “What do you mean by that? What don’t I get?”
Izuku’s frustration boiled over before he could stop it.
“This is Kacchan we’re talking about!” he snapped, his voice rising. “He doesn’t let people in that easily. That guy, he’s probably just making him feel sorry for him, manipulating him somehow. Kacchan’s too nice to kick him out, but that doesn’t mean it’s not happening!”
“Izuku,” Ochako said, her voice steadier now. “I love you, you know that, right? That’s why I’m saying this.”
He didn’t respond, his grip tightening on the phone.
“Bakugou’s a grown man,” she said firmly. “He’s not going to let someone manipulate him. You know that. He’s smart enough to know if someone’s taking advantage of him. And… maybe Kou’s a nice guy. Have you thought about that? Maybe you’re just not used to seeing Bakugou being sweet to someone.”
Izuku opened his mouth to protest, but Ochako kept going.
“But he is,” she said simply. “And he will be. Because, no matter how much of an ass he acts like, Bakugou’s a nice person. People are going to love him. And, yeah, if someone loves him, they would want to have sex with him too, Izuku.”
Izuku’s breath hitched, and he froze, his mind blanking. He pulled the phone away from his ear, staring at it for a moment before pressing the button to end the call. The screen went dark, and the room fell silent.
v.
Izuku sat on the edge of his bed, his phone glowing faintly in the darkness of his apartment.
Hiz curtains were drawn, but the city lights outside seeped through the cracks, casting faint patterns on the walls. His leg bounced restlessly, the frustration in his chest simmering, refusing to settle.
The video was still on his phone. He shouldn’t have it open. He knew that. And yet, his thumb hovered over the replay button as if it were some kind of compulsion. His breathing was uneven, his body tense as the screen stayed frozen on the blurred thumbnail.
The group chat notifications kept pinging, one after the other, the familiar names lighting up his phone. The messages were relentless, even more so now that it was late and everyone had clocked out of their hero work for the day.
Izuku turned off the notifications with a quick swipe, but the silence only made the buzzing in his head louder. He set the phone down, stared at it like it had personally offended him, then picked it back up a moment later. His thumb tapped the screen, and before he could stop himself, the video started again.
The dim lighting, the shadows, the barely visible lines of Katsuki’s face, it all played out like a cruel loop. His breath hitched as the muffled sounds began, Katsuki’s voice low and soft. He couldn’t look away, couldn’t stop himself from zeroing in on every detail. The man’s shaggy hair, his broad shoulders, Katsuki’s flushed skin, the way he-
Izuku shut the video off, his hand trembling. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, running both hands through his hair as if that would somehow erase the image burned into his mind.
The thoughts wouldn’t stop.
Kacchan and that university student. The words felt sour, wrong, like they didn’t belong in the same sentence. Katsuki was 25, and Kou… Kou looked barely 20. Izuku felt his teeth grit as the idea cemented itself further in his mind. There was a power imbalance there. There had to be.
What the hell was Katsuki even doing with someone like that? A university student, someone who probably couldn’t even afford their own groceries, someone still figuring their life out. Katsuki wasn’t just a pro hero, he was Dynamight. He’d built a career on being untouchable, larger than life. How could he lower himself to something so… irresponsible?
Why had Katsuki even wanted it in the first place? That wasn’t him.
The more Izuku thought about it, the more questions churned in his mind, each one darker than the last.
The black eye flashed in his memory, and his hands curled into fists at his sides.
Why had Katsuki been hurt? Was it Kou? Was that bastard hurting him?
His chest rose and fell with shallow breaths as the room seemed to close in around him.
The video. The group chat. The questions.
Katsuki and Kou.
It all circled back to one unbearable truth.
Katsuki was letting someone in, someone who didn’t deserve it, someone who could hurt him.
Izuku’s phone pinged again, and he grabbed it off the bed, gripping it tightly as if the act of holding it would somehow stop the thoughts from spiraling further. But nothing did. Nothing stopped the image of Katsuki with that guy, the noise from the video, or the anger building inside him.
Distracting himself, Izuku opened the group chat again, his thumb swiping over the screen as dozens of unread messages scrolled past. It was still all about Katsuki, there was no escaping it. The group was relentless, dissecting every piece of information they could find.
Mina: How’s there still no official message? Isn’t this, like, PR 101?
Denki: Bet they’re too busy trying to find a way to spin it.
Kirishima: Leave it alone, guys. Bakugou’s probably stressed out enough without us adding to it.
Yaoyorozu: It’s likely we’ll hear something tomorrow. Agencies tend to wait until the story’s not as fresh before they release a statement.
Izuku sighed, his thumb hovering over the chat, debating whether to scroll further or just put the phone down altogether. But then a new message popped up, followed by a notification ping.
Sero: Yo, check this out.
Attached was a blurry photo. Izuku clicked on it before he could think better of it, the image expanding to fill his screen.
It was Katsuki. He was standing outside a convenience store, wearing the same hoodie he’d been wearing earlier. Beside him was someone taller, their face partially obscured by glasses and shaggy brown hair. The hoodie the guy wore was unmistakably the same one Kou had been wearing earlier. Izuku recognized him immediately.
Katsuki was smiling, smiling, up at Kou, something warm and almost soft in his expression. Kou looked flustered, his cheeks red, but he was laughing, his broad shoulders hunched slightly like he was trying to hide his embarrassment.
The timestamp suggested it had been taken recently, probably that same evening.
The chat exploded.
Mina: Omg, he’s CUTE!
Hagakure: Look how tall he is! Taller than Bakugou! That’s adorable.
Sero: And Blasty looks happy too. When’s the last time we saw him smile like that?
Mina: Right??
Izuku stared at the photo, his fingers tightening around his phone. The messages blurred together as they kept coming, everyone gushing over how Katsuki looked, how Kou looked, how they seemed so natural together.
But Izuku couldn’t see it.
To him, Katsuki’s smile looked strained, like he was just humoring the guy.
That warmth everyone else was seeing, it wasn’t there.
It couldn’t be. They didn’t understand.
Then Mina’s next message came through, and Izuku’s felt like the whole universe was playing tricks on him.
Mina: Hey, doesn’t the guy kinda look like Midoriya? LOL!