Rage

Over the next few days, the bruises start to fade. Katsuki has to suffer a few funny looks from classmates, but Izuku doesn't try to talk about what happened again. He watches Izuku's expression more closely, wondering if he just imagined his smile faltering. He hates the idea that he's already fucked up—that he has already let something bad happen. He considers asking, but what could he say–"Hey, fuckmunch, you don't look as happy as usual?" So instead of asking, he sticks a little closer than ordinarily does and agrees every time Izuku asks him to go look at hero things or whatever.

Of course it's Izuku who brings up the slight changes in their dynamic—Izuku who is braver than him in ways he doesn't want to admit. It's Izuku who sets down the controller for the videogame first and faces him.

"Kacchan, is something—did something change?" There's genuine worry in his voice, almost like he thinks he did something wrong.

Katsuki goes through a hundred kinds of anxious in the next second and somehow manages to restrain his knee jerk reaction to swear that everything is perfect what the fuck. Instead he tries to formulate a real response. But he doesn't know how he's supposed to ask, or even what. In the end, he says—

"Your smile."

Izuku stares at him.

Katsuki fumbles. What kind of idiot— "It…it looks different."

Izuku's eyes widen with surprise, which just reminds him that even in this lifetime, Izuku doesn't seem used to the idea that he genuinely cares. And fuck did Izuku ever know he actually gave a shit? No, of course not. He'd sworn things would be different, and they are. But as every second passes, he grows more and more sure that he has done something wrong.

Izuku picks at the hem of his sleeve. The weather is cool, since fall is setting in, and he's wearing long sleeves, but the gesture somehow stands out. An idea hits Katsuki with the same impact as a brick to the head. Just because he wasn't there to see it doesn't mean it couldn't happen. Just because he wasn't the one responsible doesn't mean someone else couldn't be. He feels his gut twist. Fuck, he should have known. He grabs Izuku's arm and yanks the sleeve up. Purple splotches stand out on pale freckled skin.

"Shitty Deku, why the hell didn't you tell me?" He doesn't realize that his fingernails are digging into Izuku's skin until he feels Izuku try to pull away, until he sees the tears start to pool. When he does, Katsuki lets go like he would hot coals. He looks guiltily at the imprints of his nails. They darken quickly—angry, red.

"Who did this? Fucking– I'll kill them. All of them. Shitheads!"

Katsuki's hands curl into fists that tremble by his sides. He's not sure how far he'd take his usual threat. All he knows is that he wants to make them pay. And why didn't Izuku tell him? His nails dig into his own palms.

"I'll kill them now," Katsuki says, getting up from his position on the couch, and not thinking at all about how he'll find them.

Izuku stops him by grabbing his wrist, with hands that are a little clammy, but manage to hold a firm grip. As Izuku clings to him, he can't tell who's shaking more.

"Kacchan, you're scaring me," he says in a small voice.

The shaking stops. His breath hitches. If there was anything that would break Katsuki rage, it was that. His heart freezes. His arms go slack. Izuku slowly lets go, and his arm drops to his side. Katsuki sits back down heavily, farther away from Izuku than he was before, but only because he doesn't think he deserves to be close.

"You should have told me," Katsuki says, still seething, still furious, but no longer yelling.

"I knew you'd get mad," Izuku murmurs.

Katsuki bites his lip. Of course he'd get mad. "What kind of shitty reason is that?" His voice doesn't carry its usual bite.

The response isn't immediate. Instead Izuku twists his hands in his lap. "I thought you'd think it was weak. It's–I didn't even try to fight." His hands stop twisting. "Sorry."

Katsuki sits with his thumbs pressed into his forehead. He would try to calm himself but he doesn't know where to start. Fury bubbles to the surface, but guilt isn't far behind. His mind spins with echoes of another life and all the scenarios he can imagine for this one. Izuku's words don't make it from his ears to his brain. His own thoughts are too loud. The two points of pressure on his forehead are a constant, a way to ground himself.

In this lifetime, he'd thought Izuku would grow up happier. He feels the world around him breaking apart, pieces falling out of place. He thought he had been careful. He thought he was strong enough to take some of the blows meant for Izuku. But he thought that before, hadn't he? He wonders if he has the power to change anything for the better. So far, all he's done is mess things up.

"Kacchan? Are you alright?" Izuku's voice is timid, like he's handling something dangerous. Katsuki's head snaps up in response.

He's faced with green eyes that are full of concern. Izuku has always worried about others more than he worries about himself. He looks at Katsuki, and Katsuki can't find the strength to look away. Something painful settles in his chest. It isn't as fiery as anger or as heavy as guilt, but he wants to get rid of it as soon as possible. Katsuki glances down to see that Izuku has already rolled down his sleeves to hide the bruises. His eyes return to Izuku's face.

"I'll be fine after I kick their asses. What about you?"