Chapter Text
Footnote—conan gray
It was never supposed to be this fucking broken. But then again, Katsuki should've known the moment that "thing"—that twisted, more-than-platonic tumor in his chest—started growing, it was going to end in a bloodbath.
It started with a green-eyed blur in the playground, a shadow Katsuki couldn't shake off. Izuku was the tag-along, the fanboy, the one constant in Katsuki's universe.
He'd been proud of it, drunk on the way Izuku looked at him like he was the sun.
But pride turned into a warped kind of fear when the "Quirkless" diagnosis dropped.
Katsuki didn't know how to protect without destroying, so he became a prick.
He pushed, he shoved, he told Izuku to take a swan dive off the roof—a desperate, vile attempt to break the thread between them.
He failed.
The thread just wrapped tighter around his own throat.
Then came the miracle that felt like a betrayal. The Quirk. All Might. The UA years were a blur of blood, sweat, and Katsuki's ego burning to cinders.
He watched Izuku grow, watched him get close to Uraraka, and watched the way Izuku's eyes stopped following him exclusively.
The jealousy wasn't just about power, it was about the space in Izuku's head. During the war, Katsuki literally died for him.
He apologized in the mud and the blood, thinking that maybe, if they survived and Izuku went back to being Quirkless once the embers of One For All faded, they'd finally have a shot at something real.
now they're twenty-six and the reality is a goddamn nightmare.
katsuki is the number one hero, and Izuku is the civilian teacher who still holds katsuki's heart in a death grip.
katsuki finally cracked and confessed, laid his soul bare, only for izuku to look at him with that terrifyingly calm "hero" smile and drop the most cowardly line in history.
"i'm not ready for a commitment, kacchan. not with you. can we just be... close? without the labels?"
so katsuki, the absolute idiot, agreed. he trapped himself in a situationship that felt like a slow-motion disaster.
izuku became a ghost who only materialized when he was bored or lonely. he'd slide into katsuki's dms at 2 am, show up at his penthouse, and act with a hunger that felt like love, only to dip the next morning without a word.
and the whole time, izuku stayed "friendly" with uraraka.
those rooftop talks, those lingering looks on the news—katsuki saw it all. he tried to tell himself he was just overthinking, but the gut-punch of seeing izuku laugh with her while keeping katsuki in the dark was a different kind of pain.
the breaking point happened on a tuesday. izuku was lounging on katsuki's sofa, scrolling through his phone while ochako's name kept popping up on his screen. katsuki felt the bile rise in his throat.
"what are we, izuku? really?" he asked, his voice raw.
"you come here, you act like i'm your world, then you walk out and act like i don’t exist the second you're with her."
izuku didn't even flinch. he just looked up with that cold, defensive stare that made katsuki's skin crawl.
"i told you i wasn't ready for this, katsuki. why are you being so possessive? you knew the rules."
"rules?!" katsuki lost it.
"the rule where you get to play with my feelings because you know i'm pathetic enough to love you?! you want the ego boost of having the number one hero at your beck and call, but you don't want the responsibility of my heart!"
"you're making things up in your head again," izuku said, his voice flat, gaslighting him with a terrifying ease.
"if you're hurting, that's on you for staying. don't act like the victim here just because you can't handle your own expectations."
the world went silent. it was checkmate. izuku had flipped the script so perfectly that for a second, katsuki actually felt like the villain.
he backed away, looking at the man he'd protected with his life, and realized the "deku" he loved never existed. he was looking at a stranger wearing a hero's face.
"you're right," katsuki whispered, his heart finally shattering for the last time.
"i'm the idiot for thinking this meant anything. get out. now."
izuku stared at him for a beat, then calmly grabbed his jacket and walked out without looking back.
the second the door clicked shut, katsuki grabbed his phone. his hands shook as he hit block on every single app, every number, every link to the man who'd been his world.
total cut off.
he collapsed onto the floor, the silence of the apartment deafening.
The worst part—the part that truly hurt—was realizing that even after everything, the yearning hadn't fully died.
it was just a total mess.