"I love you." Kaworu says, softly, but with a resolve that betrays a certain ferocity. As if he dares the world to deny it or refuse his truth. Buried in Izuku's gentle rhythm, he thinks of how he would play that voice message over and over again, curled up in a quiet house that no longer wanted him and that he no longer wanted in return. A place he'd been resigned to.

All he'd wanted to do was reply and beg Izuku to find him and save him from his own maelstrom of confusion and pain. Yet, he'd refrained. Afraid that there would be no hand offered to him. Or perhaps even more afraid that it would be withdrawn at the sight of him.

"I don't know if I a deserve your hand in mine but I'll never let it go again."