The excuses, the denial, all semblance of logic and reason—they dry up in Kacchan's throat as his eyes flicker between Izuku's face and the rest of his body. "The—You forgot the pillow—" Izuku doesn't have enough rationale left to care about that.

His brain is still a little fried from the transformation and the crazy, infinitesimal chance that his feelings might not be unrequited. He leans in close, their noses centimeters apart, gazing deeply into Kacchan's eyes. "I love you, Kacchan." He leans in, pressing his lips to Kacchan's mouth.