apathy

kacchan no more

Katsuki is soaked by the time he re-enters the lobby, and he drips all the way up the stairs to in front of his apartment door. He fishes his keys out of his saturated jeans and glances at the Midoriyas' door.

It's shut tight, as usual, and for a moment Katsuki entertains the idea of blowing off the doorknob and storming inside. He'll confront Izuku like he meant to earlier, demand that the other boy talk to him. And Izuku will—

Izuku will...

Izuku will stare blankly, not at Katsuki but through him, as if Katsuki is the one who's become a ghost, not Izuku. Izuku will not say a word, just meet his eyes finally and make Katsuki suffer the endless pit of despair they've become. Izuku will make him agonize over trying to break their silence. Izuku will run him back out of the apartment with nothing but a dead eyed stare and a closed mouth.

Katsuki unlocks his own door and slams it open, then slams it closed behind him. He drops the bag from the store on the kitchen table, ignores his mother and stomps to his room, slamming that door too. He strips off his jacket and throws it over his desk chair, then drops onto his bed, wedging an arm under his head so he doesn't get his pillow wet. The ceiling above him is blank beige, excluding a square of discolor where a photo used to be taped. 

With a grunt, Katsuki turns on his side, scowling again. Even with the absence of the photo, gone for years now, Katsuki can see the image that once rested above him every day. He can't help compare the bright smile of photo-Izuku to the emotionless frown that Izuku wears nowadays. Katsuki can't pinpoint the moment that Izuku lost his smile, but he can remember the day he noticed with startling clarity.

He closes his eyes and shakes his head to rid himself of the thought of that time, but the memories flash at the back of his eyelids unbidden. His own burning hand on Izuku's shoulder, challenge met only with a tired silence. The sinking of his heart when he realized who was leaping off the school roof followed by his palms sparking of their own accord. He collided with Izuku midair, knocking him off course and cushioning the landing.

"What the hell were you thinking?!" Katsuki had yelled that day. Izuku just pushed him away and gotten to his feet, giving Katsuki only a glance before walking away. He remembers being struck by the emptiness there long after Izuku disappeared from view.

There hadn't been a word spoken between them since. It wasn't that Izuku didn't talk anymore—Katsuki had seen him chatting away on a phone call plenty of times—it was just that he didn't talk to Katsuki. And Katsuki realized that he didn't remember the last time he'd heard Izuku's voice. When had Izuku retreated from the world? When had he broken? Katsuki didn't know the answer, and he likely never would.

Fed up with his train of thought, Katsuki pushes himself up off the bed and goes to his desk. He drops heavily into the chair and glares at a halfway finished form sitting innocently on the surface. A few years back, the hero schools had changed the timeline they operated on, so Katsuki was only just filling out his application to Yuuei at sixteen. If they green lighted it, which they would, he would go to the entrance exam to prove he belonged there. The entrance exam was three parts from what he had read. A test, for academics, a fight against robots, then some sort of logic test. No source was clear about the newer section of the exam, but Katsuki wasn't worried about it. He was the top of his class and for good reason. He had a kick ass quirk and a sharp mind. He would ace that fucking exam.

Grinning to himself, Katsuki picked up a pen and resumed filling out the form. Subconsciously he was thankful for the distraction it gave him. For a few minutes. By the time he had finished the lat section of the form, his mind had wandered right back to Izuku.

He'd wanted to be a hero when he was younger, livelier. He couldn't be one of course, hero work was far too important and dangerous for some quirkless wanna be, but that's what he had wanted. In a different world, would he have applied for the hero course despite everyone telling him he couldn't? Hell, was he doing that now? Did Izuku even want to be a hero anymore or had his love for that been sucked away too?

Katsuki let himself briefly imagine walking into his first day of class to see Izuku—photo-Izuku—sitting in a desk. The nerd would turn to him all nervous and make a stuttered declaration that since they'd both made it there, they should work their hardest to pass each other up. Katsuki scoffs to himself, pushing the form away and dragging his homework closer instead.

Who gave a shit what quirkless, idiot, deku Izuku did with his life? Katsuki was better than him and he was always going to stay that way. Izuku had no place in his life, and he sure as hell wasn't wasting any time waiting for the shitty nerd to try and catch up. Izuku could keep his fucking silence because Katsuki was going to be number one.

What was a lifetime of silence if he couldn't even remember Izuku's voice?