Izuku fell asleep that night with the ring on his finger and the bracelet warm against his wrist. The party had faded into a gentle hum in his memory—laughter, gifts, hugs, and the quiet truth Mina had revealed. Katsuki had wanted to marry him.

That thought alone carried Izuku into sleep like a lullaby.

He dreamt of a field bathed in golden light.

Katsuki stood at the end of an aisle lined with blue baby dragon’s breath, wearing a white suit that somehow still looked explosive. His hair glowed in the sun, his eyes soft in a way Izuku had only ever seen in private moments.

Izuku walked toward him in a matching suit, heart pounding, smiling so hard his cheeks hurt.

Katsuki reached out, cupping Izuku’s face with both hands.

“You look good, nerd.”

Izuku laughed, tears in his eyes. “You look perfect.”

They exchanged rings—gold with ruby hearts—and Katsuki kissed him under a sky full of fireworks.

Izuku smiled the entire time.

A gentle tap on his shoulder pulled him from the dream.

Izuku blinked awake, breath catching in his throat.

Katsuki stood beside his bed.

Not in a suit.

Not in the dream.

But in his angel form—soft glow, faint halo, small wings that fluttered like candlelight. His expression was warm, almost shy.

“She told you, didn’t she?” Katsuki said quietly.

Izuku sat up slowly, heart pounding. “Mina… yeah. She told me.”

Katsuki knelt beside the bed, the glow around him illuminating Izuku’s tear‑streaked cheeks. He reached out, brushing a thumb under Izuku’s eye.

“I know,” Katsuki murmured. “I wanted to spend my entire life with you, my love. I really did.”

Izuku’s breath hitched.

Hearing him say it—my love—felt like being wrapped in sunlight.

Katsuki leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Izuku’s forehead, lingering there for a moment as if memorizing the warmth.

Izuku’s eyes fluttered shut.

When Katsuki pulled back, Izuku didn’t hesitate. He threw his arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. Katsuki hugged him back instantly, wings folding around them like a shield.

Izuku pressed a kiss to Katsuki’s forehead in return, hands trembling.

“I would’ve said yes,” Izuku whispered. “A thousand times.”

Katsuki smiled against his shoulder. “I know.”

Izuku held him tighter, afraid he’d disappear if he let go.

But Katsuki didn’t fade.

Not yet.

He stayed in Izuku’s arms, warm and real and impossibly gentle.

“You’re so strong, Izuku,” Katsuki whispered. “Stronger than you know.”

Izuku closed his eyes, letting the words settle into his heart.

For the first time in years, he didn’t feel the ache of loss.

He felt love.

Pure, enduring, unbreakable.

And Katsuki—glowing softly in his arms—felt like home.