Katsuki made it to the UA dorms on sheer stubbornness.

His legs were buckling, his vision darkening, and it felt like someone was clamping red-hot vices around his chest. Every step sent pain through him, but he kept going, teeth clenched, refusing to stop.

He didn’t think about the consequences.

Didn’t think about the words.

Didn’t think about what he would say.

He just knew where he was going.

The door to Midoriya’s room was slightly ajar.

Katsuki didn’t even knock.

“Deku.”

Izuku turned sharply, as if he’d felt him even before hearing his voice. His eyes widened in shock when he saw Bakugo.

“Kacchan?! You… you look awful,” Izuku jumped up. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

“Shut up,” Katsuki breathed, taking a step forward.

The coughing hit him suddenly. He doubled over, clutching the edge of the table, coughing so hard tears welled in his eyes. Yellow petals, smeared with blood, fell into his palm.

Izuku went pale.

“Is that… is that hanahaki?..” his voice wavered.

Katsuki laughed. Crookedly. Painfully.

“And you’re fucking perceptive.”

He didn’t look at Midoriya. If he did, he’d break.

“Kacchan, why didn’t you tell me right away?!” Izuku stepped closer, then froze, unsure if he was allowed to touch him. “This is… this is dangerous!”

“No shit,” Katsuki rasped. “I know, Deku.”

Silence hung between them, heavy and crushing.

“Is this… because of someone?” Izuku asked quietly.

Katsuki lifted his gaze to him.

Izuku was the same as always. Anxious. Kind. Sickeningly sincere.

“What do you think?” he snarled.

Izuku froze.

Understanding came slowly, but when it did, he sucked in a sharp breath.

“Kacchan… I… I didn’t know,” he whispered. “If I had known—”

“Don’t,” Katsuki cut him off. “I didn’t come here for pity.”

He took another step, almost closing the distance.

“I came because I don’t want to die thinking you were just a mistake.”

Izuku was trembling.

“Kacchan…” he raised his hands and finally touched him—carefully, as if Bakugo might fall apart. “You’re not a mistake. You never were.”

Katsuki felt something inside him crack.

He yanked Izuku toward him and kissed him.

The kiss was desperate, uneven, tasting of blood and tears. But Izuku responded instantly, without hesitation, holding him tight as if afraid to let go.

The coughing eased.

The pain in his chest dulled.

Katsuki pulled back, breathing hard.

“If you’re lying…” he exhaled. “If this is pity—”

“I love you,” Izuku interrupted, not letting him finish. “I have for a long time. I was just… scared.”

Katsuki closed his eyes.

It went quiet in his chest.

The last yellow petals lay on the floor—no more appeared.

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