CROSS POSTED ON Ao3

Am I spontaneously writing and posting this BakuDeku fanfiction because of a devastatingly sad tik tok slideshow I saw at four in the morning? Yes. Yes I FUCKING am 

Should I be posting more stories? Probably not, but I am on a fucking mission. This WILL have a happy ending because I SAID SO okay. I'm COPING. School is about to start, my car is two seconds away from becoming less of a vehicle and more of a red can that just sits in the driveway, and I now have a grudge. 

Katslvt, I hope your pillow is warm and your crops are not watered. Your mind is brilliant but you are a villain. I was crying bc I have the emotional stability of a very small acorn, which really doesn't factor in because acorns don't have emotional stability, but it felt relevant. 

Anyway, this is inspired by their slideshow and by my own will and spite to always have a happy ending. Here's some relevant tags, since Wattpad's tagging system is ass

-Bakugo Katsuki/Midoriya Izuku
-TEMPORARY major character death
-Time travel
-Idk, gay shit
-Katsuki can't cope

This'll probably be pretty short idk. I don't usually write BakuDeku so we'll see how this even goes

Trigger warnings: Suicidal ideation, though nothing actually happens. Temporary major character death. Grief and mourning. Depression.

WARNING: VERY CRINGEY!!! SELF INDULGENT FIC BC IM MENTALLY ILL

Third person pov

In the wake of Izuku's death, Katsuki realizes that he will never, ever be okay again.

Through every phase of Katsuki's life, Izuku could be seen through a different lens. He was there in the foreground of every moment that mattered, with his riveting smile and sparkling eyes. With all his brilliant intellect and optimism, he lit Katsuki's world up with color he hadn't even realized was there until it was gone.

Izuku Midoriya loved like it was a marathon, and Katsuki was somehow lucky enough to experience that himself. Even in the times he was foolish enough to shove him off as an annoyance, to lash out because of his own inferiority and fear, Izuku never once took a step back from him. He never once left him.

That is why it's so impossible to think that he has now.

Katsuki was foul growing up. His perception of Izuku and of society itself had twisted and warped into this untamable monster. He was angry all the time and he never knew what to do with it, and his teachers and peers never failed to praise him for the beast he was becoming, either unaware or uncaring of what he was coming to be.

Even at his worst, they still tried to draw nearer simply because he had power enough within the construct of society to excuse his words and actions. They knew from the moment he awakened his quirk exactly the path he was heading down, and they'd wanted a piece of that.

Izuku was the only one who stayed not for his quirk, but for Katsuki himself. And he hates that it took him so long to see that. He hates that the moment he realized exactly what he had, it was ripped away from him so surely.

Izuku has never looked down at him. Izuku has loved him hopelessly and fully, in a way only someone with a heart like his ever could. His admiration was just as pure and good as the rest of him, no strings attached. Katsuki could've had no quirk at all and Izuku would've looked at him the exact same way.

He was wonderful. He was determined, and he was strong, and he was a hell of a lot more than Katsuki deserved. Izuku was everything, and now... now he is nothing at all.

He will never laugh again. He will never smile again. He will never mumble, or blush, or lose his mind over quirks. He will never get hurt, he will never get better, he will never breathe or eat his favorite foods or observe the world with those evergreen eyes and see the light in it ever again.

Izuku will never know that Katsuki loved him back. With all the force of a supernova, so much that he didn't even know how to say it. He will never know how he felt, and Katsuki screams and screams his agony until he can't anymore.

This level of hurt is unlike anything he has ever experienced before, is unlike anything he will ever experience again. It is the absolute worst pain Katsuki has ever been in. It feels like someone has sunk their hand into his chest and wrapped icy fingers around his heart and is slowly pulling it out, squeezing tighter and tighter as they go.

Katsuki doesn't know what happens after he finds his body. He remembers not being able to breathe, and being glad, because if he wasn't breathing it meant he'd at least be with Deku soon. He remembers tears and choking on his grief, for how sharply it had bubbled up and cut through him.

He feels like a giant wound left to bleed. He thinks Mr. Aizawa came and found him, or maybe someone else. Katsuki doesn't know and he doesn't care either, because Izuku died. And how can anything at all matter in the face of that?

Everything about him is still fresh in Katsuki's mind, and the thought that it may one day not be makes him want to howl in outrage. He doesn't know how long it's been. Maybe minutes, maybe days, maybe weeks, maybe even months. Katsuki doesn't want to know.

He cries more than he ever has in his entire life. Everything perpetually aches. His head and eyes and teeth and just— everything. It all hurts. And shouldn't it? With Izuku gone, shouldn't it?

Izuku's dorm room smells still like him. Katsuki sits there now and closes his eyes, and he can almost pretend he's still there. That he'll come stumbling through the door. He'd turn red if he saw Katsuki sitting there, would sputter out questions about why he was there.

If he saw his tears, he'd ask if he was okay. He'd sit here and hug him. Even if Katsuki threatened to blow him up, he'd nudge up closer like when they were kids. He'd wrap a blanket around the both of them and hum, or maybe mumble out theories about why he was upset in the first place.

Izuku was soft around the edges. He always had been. He was short and sweet like that, rounded corners compared to Katsuki's harsh lines. They never should've worked, and yet Izuku had cemented himself as a cornerstone of Katsuki's entire existence anyway.

He was too good. Too good for this world and too good for Katsuki. He'd followed Katsuki their entire lives, and it seemed cruel that he couldn't anymore. Even crueler was that Katsuki could not turn around and follow him back.

One For All hums through his bones abruptly, drawing him out of his haze. Katsuki wants to claw it out from beneath his skin and scream. It is his anchor here. With this, he cannot leave, because that would mean letting Izuku down in his final wish.

It hurts. It hurts, and Katsuki despises himself with a vitriol that makes his blood burn in his veins and his tears fall uncontrollably.

"B...Bakugo?" A voice calls from outside the door. The lights are off, and Katsuki's face is sticky from his own tears. "Dinner's ready if you want to come down and join us. We, uh— we made you a plate."

Kirishima's voice wobbles, but that's okay. Katsuki can't seem to make his come out at all anymore. He has nothing to say.

He rolls over instead of responding, burying his nose in Izuku's pillow. It's starting to smell more like nitroglycerin than Izuku's melon shampoo. Katsuki clenches his eyes shut and inhales deeper, forcing himself to find the ghost of him still lingering.

Kirishima stands at the door a long, long time before he walks away. Katsuki listens to his footsteps fade and does the only thing he can to cope. He pretends.

If Katsuki listens hard enough, he thinks he can hear Izuku mumbling. He doesn't know if that makes it better or worse.

~~~

Back when they were kids, before Katsuki ruined it all and pushed Izuku away, the concept of them not being together was not even a passing thought. In fact, separation between them was such an outlandish idea that it didn't even seem possible.

There could be no Kacchan without Izuku, and just the same, there could be no Izuku without Kacchan. They were like stars in orbit of one another. Their parents used to joke that they were soulmates in another life. Katsuki wonders how far off that was.

Izuku would get scared on the nights they slept at Katsuki's house. He'd shake and jump at every little noise, and Katsuki would always sigh and open up his blanket. He always acted exasperated, but something smug would curl in him every time Izuku dove in and cuddled up against him for comfort.

For the years, he'd thought himself a knight in shining armor of sorts. Izuku was smaller. He scared easier and was someone to look out for. His parents had always encouraged him to protect Izuku, and he'd taken on that role as a child with gusto. It was his responsibility, something only he could properly do.

Even when their relationship grew rocky, he doesn't think that ever went away. On some level, he'd always wanted Izuku to be safe. Izuku had always been so determined to throw himself into danger for others— for complete strangers who didn't even fucking deserve it. He was so certain he'd be a hero, and Katsuki had known deep in his gut that he'd get himself killed if he ever achieved that dream.

He'd been right. Katsuki grows viscerally nauseous when the thought crosses his mind. He'd been right.

"You can't keep doing this." Aizawa's voice is quiet and stern, but tired too. "Mutilating yourself like this— it's not healthy, Bakugo."

The bandages around his hands are thick. He'd blown his hands bloody and raw with his quirk, and not for the first time, either. He stares guilelessly down at the stark white of them, feeling detached from himself as they burned and throbbed. It should hurt, but it didn't. Nothing did compared to...

Aizawa shifts closer. Katsuki looks up, feeling oddly distant from his own body. Recovery Girl hadn't been able to heal him. Katsuki didn't have the energy, even though it felt like all he did these days was sleep. How ironic.

Deep down, Katsuki feels like this is the least he deserves. For all the hurt he put Izuku through, maybe he should have some hurt of his own. Bloody hands aren't half of what Izuku experienced in life.

Aizawa searches his face for something. Katsuki doesn't know what he's looking for, but he can tell his teacher doesn't find it. Once upon a time, he maybe would've sneered or scowled, or maybe rolled his eyes. Now all he can do is stare, detached.

"You can't keep doing this." Aizawa repeats, but this time it sounds more like a plea. Katsuki blinks at him. "He wouldn't want this for you. You know he wouldn't."

Katsuki feels the phantom sensation of Izuku's lips on his right before he dove into the fray, quirk passing between their tongues, and thinks that Izuku can't want anything at all anymore.

~~~

Sleep is as much a curse as it is a blessing. Whether it's nightmares or dreams, at least he gets to see Izuku in some form.

No photograph captures him properly. Not that Katsuki has found. The sparkle in his eyes and grin doesn't translate. The myriad of emotion he always seemed to feel couldn't be contained in a single shot, ever shifting and changing as it had been.

Izuku had felt things in great, crashing waves. He worked in extremes whether people realized it or not. Anything he felt was dialed up to the nth degree, and Katsuki still sometimes struggles to wrap his mind around the fact.

He wonders if Izuku ever felt this sort of sadness or loss when Katsuki shoved him away, or called him names. If he'd go home alone and sit by himself, wishing for things to be as they were. The thought has Katsuki screaming all over again.

It's not a big surprise when he gets benched from training. He doesn't even notice at first. A few days go by and it suddenly clicks that he's been left to sit, and that nobody has bothered telling him to get up and go through the motions.

He knows they whisper. He knows they stare. He knows they cry, sometimes just as hard as he deos. The difference is that Izuku was a part of him, weaved into the most central part of everything Katsuki is. And ripping that away is practically akin to ripping out a vital organ.

Katsuki won't last much longer without it, he doesn't think. He doesn't want to last much longer without it, if this is what "without" is like.

He used to push Izuku away. He used to call him annoying, and avoid him like the plague. He used to destroy his property and tell him he was nothing. He used to attack him, used to feel satisfied if he went a whole day with hardly seeing or hearing him. The mere notion digs at him now, and he wonders how he ever acted like that in the first place.

Katsuki's apologies are too little, too late. Izuku isn't here to hear them.

Somehow, the Earth continues to turn on it's axis. Life marches forward, and Katsuki stays stuck in place. Izuku can't move and Katsuki... He could. He just doesn't want to.

He could get up, and train, and eat, and sleep on a normal schedule. He could follow a routine. But he won't. For all his other classmates fret over him, for all his teachers hover, Katsuki won't.

Izuku doesn't get these things anymore. Thus, Katsuki doesn't want them either. What Katsuki really wants, he can't have. Simple as that.

"You don't want to be number one?" A voice murmurs. Maybe it's Izuku or maybe it's someone else entire. Maybe he's finally going crazy. "The best?"

Not without Izuku. Without Izuku, Katsuki doesn't want to be anything at all.

~~~

Forever is too long to go without someone. Katsuki looks in the mirror and doesn't recognize himself. He muses that it must be because he died right alongside Izuku.

Some might call his inability to move on pathetic. Those people might be right, or maybe they're wrong and Katsuki is well in within his rights to drown in grief. He stopped giving a shit the moment Izuku stopped breathing, and nothing short of a god given miracle will change that.

Just knowing he doesn't exist is enough to keep Katsuki rooted. Even if Izuku wasn't next to him, knowing he was out there at all would've been enough in another life. Things might've been better that way. Katsuki never should've gotten close, and Izuku...

Izuku was a hero. Katsuki's sometimes half convinced he was just born that way. But sometimes he wishes that he never decided to become one. Even if it was what he was meant to do, even if it was his calling, at least if he'd done something else he might still be here. At least he might still be safe.

But then, would he be happy? Katsuki didn't know.

On some level maybe it was his fault. Izuku had gone into that fight and Katsuki hadn't been there. If he had been, this could've been stopped. Izuku is strong, but two will never not be better than one. At the very least, they could've gone out together if nothing else.

His phone buzzes uselessly at his side. He's got eighteen missed calls from his dad, and even more from his mom. He's got a collective hundreds of unopened text messages from his classmates, even the ones he seldom ever interacted with. All of them are finding hesitant ways to heal.

The idea of healing seems almost comical. Katsuki scrolls through his photos of videos of Izuku and grits his teeth at how few he has. If he'd known he would never see him again... well, if he'd known, it never would've happened to begin with, actually.

Izuku had been Katsuki's rival, amongst other things. They were both gunning for the Number One Spot. Both of them wanted to be on top for entirely different reasons. Without him here to challenge him, Katsuki didn't see the point. That dream was something he'd wanted to share with him and only him.

Right now, Katsuki isn't feeling particularly heroic. He wonders if his fire was intwined with Izuku's, and when his got snuffed out, Katsuki's went with it. It's as plausible explanation as any. Maybe the how and the why doesn't matter. Either way, Katsuki is... he's done. He simply can't anymore.

"Young Bakugo." All Might's voice is scratchy and thin. He looks like he's aged a decade in the... however long its been. The bags under his eyes are deeper than they ever were before, and he seems sicklier somehow. It's the first time Katsuki's seen him since it happened. "It... It has come to my attention th-that Young Midoriya might have... m-might have..."

One For All sets off fireworks in him. They're the existence of warmth where there shouldn't be any and Katsuki's fists curl in a desperate attempt to stop it. The quirk is an out of place puzzle piece. It doesn't belong to him, and for all it tries to coax him into using it, it never will.

Katsuki raises his eyes. He knows how he must look. All Might's flinch is telling enough of the crushing sorrow that must reflect up and through his eyes. Katsuki lets out a sigh, his shoulders slouching in defeat. He can feel an uncomfortable numbness starting to leech through him.

This is just it, isn't it? This is the rest of his life, and Izuku's not here for it.

"Will you take it back?" He rasps out. It's the first thing he's said, and it comes out broken and wheezy. All Might's hands shake. The only reason Katsuki's don't is because he doesn't have the energy anymore.

"He trusted you with it." All Might murmurs. He looks as lost as Katsuki feels. "He... He gave it to you. B-Because he believed you could be great."

Well. What a nasty surprise that had turned out to be.

~~~

When he goes to sleep that night, curled up in Izuku's bed as he always does, he hears a question. A deep, pervading one that rattles through him like a winter wind. It's cold as ice, and Katsuki curls up tighter just to try and combat it. He shivers, eyelids heavy and throat dry. In his mind, voices echo.

"What do you want?"

It's a murmur so quiet he almost doesn't hear it. Katsuki is almost certain he's imagining it-- would brush it off if not for the way One For All sparked and buzzed within him. Something ruffles its way through the room, a breeze with no origin. Katsuki blinks hazily in the darkness and swears, for the briefest of moments, he sees Izuku smiling sadly down at him.

The image is gone as soon as it comes, before Katsuki can know for sure. Katsuki feels heavy malaise drag him further into the mattress. His limbs hurt-- from disuse and from his lack of regular eating-- and he wonders if he'll simply wither away here. A body in another's tomb. Amongst all of Izuku's things, relics of someone since passed, he wouldn't exactly be out of place.

Katsuki considers the question. There is one immediate thing that comes to mind, though he doesn't say it. Izuku can't come back. The hole had been blown clear through him, leaving no hope for survival. He was gone within seconds. He'd given as good as he got, he'd won, but it--

It wasn't worth it. Not in Katsuki's eyes. He knows Izuku would disagree.

Katsuki wants a lot of things. He wants what happened to have never happened to begin with. He wants Izuku alive and uninjured. He wants to hear him laugh. He wants to see him smile. He wants to see Izuku live with that same unforgiving, reckless abandon he always did before it all fell apart.

Izuku would've grown into Japan's pillar, and Katsuki wishes he could see it. He'd be a beacon, bigger and brighter than even All Might was. He would fix everything wrong with this country and the society that resided within it, and he'd do it with a smile. Izuku would make the world a better place, and Katsuki wants to witness that change.

He wants all this so much it aches. But perhaps most selfishly of all, Katsuki wants a chance.

A chance to love him. A chance to be loved by him.

A chance to save him.

Katsuki hadn't realized he had any tears left to cry, but the telltale sting in his eyes came forth anyway. His breaths stuttered in his chest, a little too fast and a little too stilted. He clenched his eyes shut, the tattered remains of his heart quivering. If he still had a heart left at all, that is. Sometimes it felt like Izuku had taken it with him when he went.

Sleep came easy, but only because Katsuki cried his way into it. He doesn't notice the flash of light before his closed eyelids, or the strange prickling that races across his skin. He doesn't even notice himself drifting away, higher and higher, away from the fading smell of melon shampoo and something toasted sweet.

Katsuki is gone.

(This is not a bad thing.)