Chapter Text
There once was a time when Katsuki enjoyed going to the Midoriya’s. When they were still very young, Katsuki would love to go home with Deku, hand in hand and running through the streets of Mustafu, sometimes lost as to where to go to Deku’s house.
There was once a time when Katsuki would enjoy the way that Deku pulled him along through the door of his small apartment, announcing their arrival to Auntie Inko who would promptly sit them down to eat something and ask about Katsuki’s life.
There was once a time when he liked the Midoriyas. That time was long gone, dead, and buried.
Auntie Inko hadn’t done anything wrong (other than having a son who was such a waste of space. Keyword: was ) so Katsuki didn’t hate her. It wasn’t her fault that fucking Deku was so shitty. He actually quite enjoyed her company, but every single time that he’d try to see her, stupid Deku had to be around. Well, not anymore.
Next time he saw Deku, he would give him the beating of his life.
Nowadays, Katsuki held a bit of annoyance at the older Midoriya (only because of his son) so he felt strange when he scowled at the thought of coming to visit them, but agreed anyway.
That’s how he found himself in the back of his mom’s black car on their way to the small apartment the Midoriya’s have always lived in. He was wearing a gray button-up, the only shirt that hadn’t been violently rejected by his mom when he proposed wearing it. (She rejected his skull, ghost, tank top, and his Ezo shirt already so that was all he had left that was tolerable.) He watched the trees go by as he moved through the city that gave him a feeling of deja-vu.
They stopped by the apartment complex belonging to the greenette– singular greenette now, Katsuki supposed– and he watched as his tearful mother solemnly stepped outside of the car and gave a jerk of the head for Katsuki to do the same.
When the door opened, Katsuki couldn’t help but feel that strange feeling from the other day. The one that tugged at his insides and made him feel heavy and annoyed. The older— or technically only if you don’t count that bastard Hisashi that Katsuki would gladly maim— Midoriya stood at the door frame. Her eyes were puffy and tear tracks stained her kind face, she had clearly been crying, and Katsuki supposed he could offer a little bit of sympathy, or at least he would if it hadn’t been fucking Deku who apparently died. Katsuki was starting to believe the bitch just ran away and decided to leave his poor mother (he was still figuring out how he managed to get a fake body to lay on the asphalt).
The woman hugged the old hag for a little too long for an emotionally stable person and cried a bit into her shoulder as Katsuki stood awkwardly to the side. Auntie Inko separated from the old hag’s shoulder and looked at him.
The pull of her green eyes made Katsuki’s stomach churn. Deku had always been a spitting image of his parents, with his deadbeat dad’s curly, unruly hair and freckles and his mom’s forest colored hair and wobbly smile. But most importantly, he had his mother’s eyes. The emerald pools on his aunt's face were a vivid image of the terrified eyes Katsuki was so used to seeing beneath him. Being watched by Inko, and having those eyes trained on him made Katsuki want to throw up, the memory of a countenance of hopelessness and death on Deku’s eyes as the blank look stared at him from a puddle of crimson blood. Katsuki tore his eyes away from his aunt’s as the woman made to pull him into a tight hug.
He played along to the little reunion as the three of them sat down at Inko’s small kitchen table. Katsuki could notice the state the kitchen itself was in, with several plates and glasses piling up on the sink. Katsuki could make out a particular mug that Deku liked to use. He wondered if Auntie Inko hadn’t washed any dishes since her son’s death.
Katsuki’s old hag was the first to speak. Her voice was uncharacteristically quiet and laced with something Katsuki could only describe as immense care and worry.
“He was such a sweet boy… Inko, I’m incredibly sorry for your loss. He had his whole life ahead of him… I can’t believe it.”
His auntie looked down at her food before she spoke. Her eyes were sad and her countenance showed her to be tired.
“I also can’t believe it. I just- I wish he would have told me how he was feeling. What ever could have happened for this to be his escape?”
I can imagine what , Katsuki thought, I can describe it word for word .
That’s not what he said, though. He just hummed in agreement and was content at keeping it that way until she turned to him.
“What about you, Katsuki? How are you feeling? You and Izuku were best friends. I can only imagine what you feel.”
I wanted the bastard gone, I told him to kill himself, Katsuki thought.
“Uh.. oh, yeah. I umm… it was shocking.”
All too soon, the face of the only Midoriya left with one was overcome with emotion.
He looked to his mother for guidance as soon as the woman started shedding tears. She started rubbing the greenette’s back, but she kept on weeping.
“I’m sorry, Katsuki! I’m sorry I wasn’t a better mother! I’m sorry I couldn’t save your best friend!”
Long ago, days after Deku got his diagnosis , he had tried to approach Katsuki about it. At the time, he had not known it, but that would be their first and last somewhat civil conversation on the topic. And back then, he had listened, mind open and thoughts quiet as Deku spoke of his visit to the doctor. More often than not, Katsuki chose to ignore Deku’s ramblings, to let the boy rant and rant; after all, why did he care? Deku’s ramblings and so-called “analysis” was dumb anyways, it didn’t matter if you could break down the logistics on the other person’s quirk if you didn’t have a powerful one that could beat them. But this one time, Katsuki listened. He knew how important this moment was. Deku would finally tell him what loser quirk he had and Katsuki could focus on training it up so they could be heroes and open their hero agency.
Evidently, this didn’t happen. Deku had told him about how he had the toe joint, how he had the extra teeth, how he had the genetic codes. How he didn’t have a quirk. From that point forward in the conversation, Katsuki remembers little. He remembers his hearing getting fuzzy, his mind blocking. He remembers the toxic, venomous, burning feeling of loathing under his skin; the dangerous sentiment of resentment. But somewhere in there, he remembers Deku’s tears. He remembers the moment when the greenette told him about his mother breaking down in sobs, apologizing to him for not being good enough to give him a quirk. He remembers but he doesn’t know what happens after that. His memory comes back when the first ever explosion with intention to harm comes out of his small 5-year-old hands. He forgets.
He’s brought back to modern times to see the sea of tears the woman has now cried. He sighs and does his best to comfort her, stepping up and awkwardly opening his arms for a hug. She melts into it almost immediately and he’s hit with the unmistakable scent of a mother, soft, comforting, loving and present and heavy and light and so fucking suffocating because this is Deku’s mother, this is the mother of the child he killed; the boy he tore down, the boy he cut to shreds until he destroyed himself the guy he saw splattered on the sidewalk not even a day ago.
A breath.
He hugs back Inko, patting her back in short, soft bursts before he can’t take it anymore and slowly pulls back from the hug.
“‘S okay,” he says, like a fucking genius, “I’m okay.”
The woman lets go of him, looks into his ruby eyes with her own big, round, emerald ones and he instantly regrets having let go. He feels that odd feeling from days ago pooling in his stomach. He looks away.
He looks at his mother for a second, trying to communicate to her how he wants to leave. His mom’s eyes soften and she gives an invisible nod with the slow blink of her eyes. His mother starts speaking.
“Inko, I fear me and Katsuki must be going now. I’m sure he needs time to process this, as do you. Please let me know if there’s anything else you need from me, okay? I will visit tomorrow while Katsuki is at school and we can begin organizing the ceremony for Izuku, sounds good?”
The woman nods and the farewells begin. Exchanges of tears, promises of visit, and a shit-ton of sorrows pass between the two women as Katsuki is eager to get out of the apartment. He makes quick work of saying his own goodbyes and nears the door. Him and his mother near it as Inko looks around somewhat pensively. He wants to leave. The wooden fixture calls to him, lures him towards it as his need to get out increases. He’s halfway through the doorframe when his name calls him back.
“Katsuki! Wait.”
He turns to see Inko, tear stricken face looking at him with an unfamiliar trust. He hums in response and does his best to not shake in desperation. The woman starts speaking.
“Yesterday, when they told me about Izuku, they brought back his belongings and… well, I know you were very dear to Izuku, as he was to you. I also know he didn’t have a lot of prized possessions,” she rambled, “but, he trusted you, and… well, he didn’t get to…finish his dream. But he wrote about you and…I was wondering if you would keep his hero analysis notebooks?”
Smoke. Singed paper. Cries. Crashes. A notebook out the window.
“It’s the least I can do to keep your connection to him,” she finished.
His head spins and he’s overcome with the odd feeling. He feels sick. He wants to leave. He doesn’t want to be here. He doesn’t want to keep the notebooks. He doesn’t want to know anything about Deku. He wants to forget about him for the rest of his life.
His mom speaks.
“I think that would be an amazing idea, Inko. He’s a little shocked at the moment but Katsuki would certainly love them, isn’t that right?”
No. No. No. No. No. Never. Leave. No. No. No.
“Okay.”
A chorus of screams sounds out in his ears and he’s running to Inko’s bathroom with an excuse. He throws the door open and hastily locks it behind him when he enters. He stares at himself in the mirrors. Frantic eyes, sweaty brow, a distraught expression. He stares at his hands, at the cuts and burns and callous skin. He feels awful.
His body collapses to the floor and he crawls until his hands grip the porcelain of the toilet scene. Bile rises in his throat. His mouth salivates intensely and he can’t take it. The fluid in his throat rises and rises and rises and rises and rises and rises and-
Vomit pours from his mouth. Heavy and clumpy, bits of his morning meal wrapped in the disgusting fluid. The putrid smell invades his nostrils, his eyes tear up at it and cause him to heave once again. He continues throwing up over the toilet bowl, his blond hair falls over his eyes and starts obscuring his vision. Viridian eyes. Why is he seeing them? Where did they come from? What’s going on? The tears and vomit cause other bodily fluids to get tangled up and snot starts coming out of his nose and restricting his breaths as they try desperately to oxygenate him. Now he’s choking. He can’t breathe. He can’t. He can’t. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
After what feels like hours, the puking finally stops. His functions start coming back to him slowly, first his breathing, then his still-slowing heartbeat, then his taste, then his touch, then his smell, and finally his sight. Tears spill into the bowl.
He takes some toilet paper and wipes his mouth with it, the multi-colored liquid visible on the soft material. He sits with his forehead on the counter next to the toilet seat and a repulsive taste in his mouth, short and difficult breaths coming out of him as he does his best to control his respirations. His whole body shakes as his heart rate finally slows down to his usual and his breaths slow with it, he shakes as he tries to stand, he shakes as he throws away the used toilet paper and shakes as he lifts himself from his knees and leans against the sink. His hands tremble as he flushes the toilet, the vile mixture of substances, colors, and smells being washed away by the clear water of the bowl.
He watches himself in the mirror.
What looks back at him doesn’t look like Katsuki. No, not with those sunken eyes, hazy look, scared face, and dirty chin. What looks at him looks the way Deku used to look when he beat the loser. What looks at him looks like he’s been hurt, like he is hurt. But he wasn’t and he isn’t.
He cups his hands under the sink water, takes some in his mouth, swishing it around to get rid of the taste. He spits it out.
Katsuki walks out of the bathroom like he has no regrets.
He meets up with his mother back in the living room. She raises an eyebrow at him to which he just shakes his head. He looks Inko in the eyes. The woman gives him a smile.
“I suppose you guys should leave now. We’ll be in touch, Mitsuki,” she says softly.
“Sounds good. Katsuki will come around sometime this week to pick up Izuku’s journals,” says his mom, “I’ll make sure to send a warm meal with him.”
Deku’s mom smiles and turns to look at him.
“Thank you for coming, Katsuki. I appreciate it.”
Katsuki looks away, the image of his distraught face reflected on the mirror plaguing his mind. He tries not to think about it as he gives Inko a short bow. He walks out the door.
In less than 5 minutes, he and his mom are on their way back to their house. Katsuki stares out the window the whole ride, consciousness slipping in and out slowly as images of green eyes and hair swim through his mind. The ride takes longer than Katsuki remembers, or at least that’s what he feels like. When they get back to the house, Katsuki’s mom leads him to the living room under the claim that she needs to talk to him.
His mother used to be someone beautiful, his father has always told him, with her porcelain skin, striking ruby eyes, messy blond hair and powerful personality. He’s the spitting image of his mother, the two of them always so fired up and eager to do a million things at once. But right now, there’s a calm in her eyes he has never seen. They’re deep in thought and consideration. He can see his reflection in them. For the second time today, he looks away from it. His mother moves.
Warm arms are held against him as he’s pulled into a hug. His mother places her forehead against his.
“Thank you for being so brave, Katsuki. I will make sure Izuku’s ceremony is beautiful, for the two of you.”
He’s dumbstruck so he just sits in silence until his mom finally lets go of him.
He goes to his bedroom.
Close the door.
Get into bed.
Close your eyes.
Peace.