Chapter Text
Oh.
Oh.
Eijirou’s heart feels like it could stop right then and there, nausea twisting and scratching at the back of his throat. He squeezes his eyes shut, everything overly bright, and his nails dig into palm flesh. Dammit. Dammit, dammit, dammit.
“Hah? What's with the fucking waterworks?” Katsuki snaps, and Eijirou peeks an eye open, the tears slipping free faster. “Do I look like I need your pity, shit for hair?”
No, Eijirou thinks as he sucks down snot, and scrubs at his eyes, No you dont.
Eyes narrowed, the other boy frowns, and looks away, the sunset light cutting vividly across his face, the sprawl of molting bruises. “Nothing is fucking changing,” Katsuki growls, low and, if Eijirou didn't know any better, more to himself than for anyone else. Least of all him and Midoriya. “I'm not going anywhere. I earned my place here, and it'll have to be pried from my cold dead hands. I'm going to be number one.”
So manly. It's what Eijirou likes best about Katsuki. There's no room for doubt in his world, and if he says it'll be done, it will be done. Eijirou draws up a watery grin, wonders if they can see how brittle it really is. One could hope to be half as cool as Katsuki.
“K-Kacchan,” Midoriya stumbles, eyes wide and tear rimmed, yet cutting a stronger figure than Eijirou could ever dream to hold. “Kacchan, I'm so, so sorry—”
It's the wrong thing to say, and Midoriya knows it. His preemptive flinch is swift, and then Eijirou can see the mortification in his eyes, the miserable draw to his mouth.
Katsuki whirls on the other boy, face twisting with a snarl, and. And draws up short. “Yeah?” he growls, pulling the word forward as if each letter is a tooth, hands flexing, something pained to him. “Yeah, my just desserts the way I see it. Don't go fucking apologizing for nothing, shitty Deku.”
No one really gets their dynamic, not even Eijirou, as dysfunctional it seems for supposed childhood friends, but. Something changes right there before his eyes. Midoriya’s left stunned, mouth drawn slightly agape, and he shoots Eijirou a startled look. Not that he's got a single idea to what Katsuki means, not really. It's an apology. An extremely convoluted one, but an apology nonetheless. For what though? He doesn't have the faintest.
I'm quirkless, echoes in Eijirou’s ears, I'm quirkless.
The silence draws out too far, for too long, and the bravado, Eijirou sees it for just a second, wavers for a heartbreaking moment. Katsuki sneers, visibly pulling together, tight and coiled. Barbed, and defensive. He shoves his hands into his pockets, and slouches, daring them to comment.
“Aren't we going to be late as shit now?” he says, baring his teeth. “If I have to hear another lecture from fucking Four-Eyes so soon, I'm blaming you both and kicking your asses.”
That startles a laugh out of Eijirou. “As if,” he blusters without really thinking. Says before it registers as inappropriate, “We can take you, right Midoriya?”
Because. They could, right? Eijirou doesn't mean to think that, and it curdles horribly in his chest. They could now, no holds barred, right? Katsuki wouldn't… wouldn't stand a chance. Right?
I'm quirkless, rings hollow.
Katsuki clicks his tongue. “Doubtful,” he says, and then turns on his heel. “Highly fucking doubtful.”
Midoriya and Eijirou share a look, and the grin slips off his face, water to a drain. Katsuki’s different. But, then who wouldn't be?
It's the end of an era, and the world only knows the half of it.