Chapter Text
Bittersweet (adjective): pleasure accompanied by suffering or regret.
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Nobody is perfect.
No matter how kind, talented, or smart somebody is, everybody has something wrong with them, maybe even something really, really wrong. And you can’t change your past, no matter how hard you try, so what’s the point? Once you do something fucked up, you can’t take it back. The only thing you can do is not repeat it.
Although, sometimes not repeating it is easier said than done.
Katsuki, admittedly, had a bad case of gifted kid syndrome.
As a child, he was considered to be a natural-born genius. He excelled at school, in sports, and in any other extracurricular activities his parents put him in. They had high expectations for him, which Katsuki never had any trouble meeting. Every kid in his class since preschool looked up to him, wanted to be his friend, or wanted to be him. There was nothing in the world he couldn't do.
Except, well, one thing. One thing that one person in particular always managed to beat him at.
He met Izuku because their moms were friends. They lived in the same neighborhood, and they’d meet up and bring the kids along with them. Katsuki never liked other kids. They were beneath him and only good for telling Katsuki how awesome he was.
At first, he hated him--he was a whiny baby and a tryhard. Obnoxiously kind and too empathetic (he cried every time he saw a dead worm on the ground). But the real reason he hated him was because he was everything Katsuki wasn't--the one thing Katsuki couldn't be. Not that he'd admit it.
Izuku was a saint. He problem-solved and prioritized fairness and treated everybody like they were special, even when he didn't get the same treatment back. Katsuki couldn't stand it. He was convinced Izuku was a total fake. Only psychos were that nice.
But after some time, Katsuki learned that Izuku was smarter than he looked. And despite being his exact opposite, Katsuki grew fond of him after some time. Truly fond of him, of being around him, and talking to him (though Katsuki would have died before telling him that).
He found that he wasn't like the other kids on the playground who would do whatever Katsuki said like a bunch of minions, or the kids who just wanted to be friends with Katsuki so they could be popular, or steal his homework answers. He wasn't like the adults in his life either, who saw Katsuki for just his potential and his smarts, or a foul-mouthed kid who needed to be trained like a dog--he saw through all of that. He saw Katsuki for who he was, foul mouth and all. And despite his sensitive nature, he never took Katsuki's attitude personally. He understood that that was just how Katsuki was and liked him anyway.
So, eventually, Katsuki came around and deemed Izuku worthy of his friendship, and the two of them became inseparable.
Most of their youthful memories were of each other, and as they got older, their bond never faltered--even as everything around them seemed to change. The two of them became intertwined. It seemed nothing could break them apart; two halves of a whole, a perfect balance.
One lazy afternoon, Katsuki and Izuku, twelve years old, were hanging out in the neighborhood playground. The sun was dipping low, casting shadows over the swings and slides. Katsuki was throwing rocks at a tree branch, trying to throw one hard enough to make the branch fall, but it wasn't working. Izuku sat cross-legged on the grass, scribbling in his notebook, completely absorbed in his thoughts. A couple of kids from school passed by, no one Katsuki cared about, but they stopped and waved at him and Izuku.
"Hey, Izuku, still hanging with Katsuki, huh?" he said, smiling widely. Katsuki immediately didn't like the way he'd said it for some reason. It sounded condescending, like he was making fun of Izuku, and Katsuki tensed, preparing to defend his friend. He started to dig around for a particularly sharp rock, just in case. However, Izuku just smiled and waved back.
“Yeah, Kacchan is my best friend ever," he said easily. Katsuki’s heart clenched a little as he eavesdropped from his spot.
The boy elbowed his friend, who also began to smirk maliciously. Looking from Izuku to Katsuki, he pointed at them. “Oh, really? Just your best friend, huh?"
He raised an eyebrow at Izuku, who only shrugged and returned to his notebook, oblivious as ever. But Katsuki's face heated up, and his hand clenched around his rock, knuckles paling.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He hissed, stepping toward him.
The boy laughed innocently, then smirked. "I'm just saying, you guys are always together. Kinda suspicious. Almost like you're... daaatinggg."
He turned his back to them, wrapping his arms around his own torso and pretending to make out with himself, and his friend plugged his nose and pretended to gag, before they both started cackling.
Heat crept up Katsuki's neck, and not from the sun. His eyes flickered to Izuku, who didn't even understand what the kid was saying. To anyone else, it might’ve seemed like a joke, but to Katsuki, it was like an unexpected punch to the gut.
"Shut up!" He barked at the boy.
"Relax, dude! No need to get so defensive, it's just a joke." He said, holding his arms up in mock surrender. His eyes flickered from Katsuki to Izuku once again and grinned. "Unless it's true. I don't see either of you denying it."
His friend started giggling maniacally. "Izuku and Kats-uki, sitting in a tree..." He started to sing.
Katsuki charged at them with his sharp rock.
"I said shut up, you stupid fuckheads! Shut the fuck up!!!" He shrieked, and the boys took off running with fearful screams. Izuku only watched, wide-eyed and utterly clueless.
But the words lingered in Katsuki’s mind, replaying over and over until they sounded like a broken record: “I'm just saying, you guys are always together. Kinda suspicious..."
Was that what people really thought? Was that what everyone at school thought? Did he and Izuku really spend too much time together? Was their friendship out of the ordinary?
Katsuki didn’t usually care what people said, because no one had ever said anything bad about him. But now it felt like all he could think about. After that day, he became hyper-aware of everything. He started noticing people giving them odd looks. He saw them whisper with one another. Once or twice they heard them say stuff about him and Izuku--like that if anyone went near them they'd "catch it." No one had ever said stuff like that about Katsuki before.
They were supposed to be talking about how great he was, how good he was at everything and how cool and smart he was. But instead, he only ever heard them talk about him and Izuku. Sure, neither of them showed interest in girls, and they were the closest to one another, but obviously they weren't dating! That just didn't make any sense, so why would anyone think that?
It made him feel like...he wanted to hide. And Katsuki started to doubt himself for the first time--Did people not respect him anymore? Did nobody think he was the best anymore, because they thought he was dating Izuku? Was he still the best, if no one thought so except for Izuku?
And worst of all, Katsuki couldn’t look at the stupid nerd the same. He noticed things he hadn’t before: the way Izuku’s big green eyes lit up when he laughed, the way Izuku clung to Katsuki’s arm, the weird twisty feeling in his stomach when Izuku called him “Kacchan” and brushed their knees together.
Did the other kids know he was thinking about Izuku like that? Is that why they said things and laughed at them behind their backs?
It pissed him off. It pissed him off that Izuku wasn’t the slightest bit bothered by what other people said. He was so sure of himself, while Katsuki felt like he was losing his mind. It made him feel pathetic, inferior. Weak. Things he never thought he would feel. Things he didn't deserve to feel.
It gnawed at him for days, which turned into weeks, and it didn’t get better. The more he hung out with Izuku, the more his perception of himself shattered, and the more he just felt confused. When he was with Izuku, his stomach just hurt and he wanted to run away. He didn't understand his stupid feelings and he hated it. He hated feeling different; he hated no longer feeling above everyone else.
So, naturally, Katsuki did what he did best, and he twisted those feelings into rage, which only continued to boil over until he couldn’t take it anymore. The problem wasn’t Katsuki--it was Izuku. Izuku, who was always touching him, always following him around like a lovesick puppy, with his annoying “Kacchan”s and all his compliments.
They were wrong. They were all wrong. Katsuki didn’t like boys, especially not stupid Deku. That would be wrong, and disgusting, and it made Katsuki’s chest tight just thinking about it to the point where he couldn’t breathe. They were wrong. It wasn’t true. He'd been spending too much time with Izuku. It was Izuku who was making him weird and disgusting; it was all his fault. He was rubbing off on Katsuki with his stupid, clingy, crybaby nature.
Katsuki was better than that. He was better than him. He had no flaws and no weaknesses. He wanted to burn everything down and forget these strange, unfamiliar feelings, forget any of this ever happened, that Izuku ever existed. He wanted to forget what all those idiots said about him and make them eat their words. This nauseous feeling in his stomach was repulsive. Deku was repulsive, and Katsuki couldn’t stand to be around him anymore.
“Kacchan, let’s go to the park!” Izuku beamed at him after school one day, tugging at Katsuki’s sleeve like always.
“Go by yourself,” Katsuki snapped, yanking his arm away. He didn’t even know why he said it. He just needed Izuku to stop looking at him like that, like he was so happy to see him. It was so wrong.
It wasn’t true. Of course it wasn’t true. They don’t know what they’re talking about, they just like to hear themselves talk. They just like to come up with their weird little conspiracies to keep themselves busy in their sad, uneventful lives. None of them actually knew Katsuki. Nobody, except… for…
Disgusting. Disgusting.
“What? Why? Are you busy?” Izuku asked, oblivious as always.
“Just back off and stay away from me, Deku. I’m not like you!” The words came out like venom, sharp and cruel, and once they fell on his own ears, didn’t know why he’d said them. His chest heaved as he avoided Izuku’s eyes. He didn’t want to see him sad, not because of him. No, it wasn’t that--he didn’t want to see him at all. He was repulsive and all of this was his fault.
Izuku froze, his eyes shining with hurt and his freckled face scrunching in confusion. “Kacchan, what are you talking about? What did I do?”
“You don’t get it!” Katsuki yelled, his voice cracking. He hated that it cracked. He hated that Izuku was probably looking at him with his big, sad eyes, like he’d just slapped him. “I don’t need you following me around anymore! Just… go away!”
“But we’re best friends.” Izuku’s voice was quiet.
"We're not friends anymore!” Katsuki turned his back before he could accidentally see Izuku’s face.
He didn’t look back. If he did, he might’ve seen tears in Izuku’s eyes, tears that he’d caused, and for no explainable reason.
Katsuki stormed home, his fists clenched so tightly his nails dug into his palms. His chest was heavy, and his stomach hurt. God, why did his stomach always hurt? He brushed it off as anger. He didn’t regret things. He didn’t do "feelings." That was for weak losers like Deku. He was just angry. Angry at stupid Deku for making him feel like this. For making him like this.
“Stupid Deku,” he muttered, slamming his bedroom door behind him. But when the house went quiet, and Katsuki stood alone in the middle of his room, the only sound left being the faint hum of the city outside and his heartbeat pounding in his ears, Katsuki wondered if maybe, just maybe, he’d done something he couldn’t take back.
“Kacchan, did you hear about the-" The freckled boy approached his former friend excitedly at school a couple of days later, as if nothing had happened. Like he expected Katsuki to just cool off and go back to normal.
“What did I tell you about talking to me?” Katsuki hissed, whipping around.
Izuku sighed, frustrated. “You’re still mad? Kacchan, what did I do? I don’t understand.”
Him and his stupid “Kacchan” this and “Kacchan” that.
“It’s not what you did, it’s just you. You… you know what you did. Just stay away from me!” He turned and ran away, leaving Izuku more dumbfounded than ever.
He ran away from school, heart pounding as he sat against a tree. He felt gross and sick and clammy. Why did he always feel this way when it came to Izuku?
Just go away, he prayed. Just stay away from me. I don’t want to feel this way; I’m not supposed to feel this way. I hate you, I hate the way you act, I hate how you make me feel. I hate you.
Izuku didn’t speak to Katsuki again after that.
He didn’t grieve their friendship. He was just glad no one was talking about him anymore. Sometimes they still talked about Izuku, but Katsuki didn't care.
Although it did sting a little, if only for a second, when Izuku was gone one day, and then another. And another, and so on.
And then Katsuki just felt numb.
He didn’t see him around the neighborhood anymore. He didn’t know why or where he went. He told himself he didn’t care and that it wasn’t his business, ignoring the pain in his chest.
“Sir, where’s Izuku?” someone in class had asked the teacher after a couple of weeks of the boy’s disappearance. Katsuki couldn't help the way his ears perked up.
“Ah, yes. Izuku transferred schools, I believe. He’s no longer in the system."
Katsuki was stunned. He'd had no idea. He hadn’t considered this ever happening, not once. It just didn’t feel real.
Later, he eavesdropped on some kids (out of curiosity, of course) who were in touch with Izuku (his stomach may have ached at the thought that Izuku had kept in touch with other kids, but not him, but it was probably just annoyance).
His parents had divorced. Izuku went to live with his dad far away. And suddenly, Katsuki’s entire world fell apart.
Izuku had always been around, since the beginning. Katsuki didn't even remember his life before Izuku. He was always there. The one thing in Katsuki's life that was constant, unchanging. And now he was gone.
Katsuki could swear he felt time stand still.
It was like he’d traveled to another planet. To another universe. This wasn’t his reality. It couldn’t be. Something about it was so, so wrong. But Katsuki didn’t bother acknowledging why.
Whatever. He refused to think about it. It was none of Katsuki’s business, and they were bound to grow apart anyway.
But even though they hadn't been talking for the last couple of months before Izuku had left, he didn’t get used to it--Izuku not being around.
He couldn’t get used to the absence of the back of the nerd’s curly hair in class, or of his annoying muttering to himself while he worked. He didn't get used to no longer having to dodge him in the hallway, or avoid his big green eyes--because they were nowhere to be found. It was eerie. It was so quiet with him gone. Katsuki’s life became dull, duller than it had been even when he first turned his back on the boy. Because now he was gone, and it felt like there was no one there for him anymore, nothing left for Katsuki in that town.
And nothing Katsuki could ever do to redeem himself.
But if he thought of it like that, then he'd never get over it, so he didn't. After all, it would be pathetic to miss your best friend of several years now that they were gone and you might never see them again. That'd just be stupid and weak.
Instead, Katsuki decided he was free. Izuku was gone. Katsuki had wanted him gone, hadn't he? Now, he was free of rumors and of the uncomfortable feeling in his chest that Izuku gave him. He was free of his regrets and being hyper-aware, and he could go back to focusing on being the best. None of it mattered anymore. It was in the past; it didn’t even exist. Izuku was gone, and with him went all of Katsuki's troubles.
Good riddance.
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