A future fic where against all odds, Izuku leaves first.
Against all odds, Katsuki lived a long life. Heart getting blown up, quirk awakening that is borderline threatening to his life, and after getting patched up, a heart that is weak for a good chunk of portion of his life.
And against all odds, he attended the funeral of one Midoriya Izuku.
He sat there solemnly. Eyes downcast as if not seeing the casket infront of him would make the event happening unreal. Yet, his shoulders kept getting pats. From friends and families.
Through his life, he has felt pain that is quite unlike any other. Who in the world would survive a heart getting blown up? Bakugou Katsuki apparently did. Yet that pain felt like a scratch compared to the one he is feeling currently.
It's odd. There's no wound this time, less blood- zero! even! Yet the pain makes him feel harder to breathe.
"Bakugou..." he doesn't respond. Even as the person sat down beside him, careful as to still give him space. He doesn't need to see who it is, even with everyone wearing black and solemn voice as they speak to the point it's almost all the same. This one is... different. It's the voice of someone who have some semblance of understanding what he is feeling.
They both sat there in silence. Listening to the soft murmurs and occasionally sobs that filled the place. Because of Izuku's deeds in his younger years, he expected media vultures to be present at the funeral. So, with every power and influence he could muster, dangling his family name also to further push his agenda, he managed to make it held in the most private place.
Only friends and families are allowed.
It was... contrary to the word, a nice distraction. With how obsessively he was arranging it, he doesn't have the time to cry. And yet with a call of his name from a not-so-roundface-anymore, he let out a heavy breath along with his tears.
"How?" Katsuki grunts, finally looking at the casket. Pushing himself up, he leans over and sees freckled face. Scarred and a bit sunken. He doesn't have to repeat himself, he was close enough to where Ochako is sitting.
"Well, it's not easy for me." Ochako exhales as she looks around. Most of the guests she is familiar with to some degree. But there are people she has never met prior to that day, what with the different lives that they took after UA graduation.
To teach, one must attain a degree. And Izuku undoubtedly made friends during his time in university. Yet, with how much their time is just impossible to align, most of the former class-A never met them. It feels strange to be in a place where one would think would be surrounded by only the closest friends as it was the final time the memory of Midoriya Izuku would be made.
Well, except Bakugou. He made a point, albeit sometimes rather obnoxiously, that he is to be involved in Izuku's life as much as possible. Barging in on karaoke nights of Izuku and his university circle held in Izuku's apartment, and then falling asleep shortly as he had just finished his gruelling shift. Making Izuku and his friends ended up spending the night playing cards or board games just to keep the noises down for his sake.
"No shit." Katsuki pulls a stool so he can sit closest to Izuku. Resting his arms on the edge, his brows furrows ever so slightly as he gaze upon thinning green hair.
"I just took his advice, and rely on my friends," she continues, "it took time that is way too long to my liking, but I made peace with it."
They sat in silence once more. People came by the casket to pay respect to Izuku every now and then, offering short condolences before retreating.
"A fucking disease," Katsuki suddenly said when the silence has stretched forever. Face scrunched as he grips the edge of the casket.
"Took eight fucking years of my life to get him back on the field and a fucking disease is what took him," Katsuki grits his teeth. Voice getting louder without him noticing, or maybe uncaring. Everyone's quieted down. But not one dare to comment on it.
"God! Fuck!" Katsuki stood up and turned his back to the casket. Palm covering his face, not wanting to show his feelings to the others. A feeling that is private to him.
"How can I even be mad at that?!"
Katsuki crouches down, rubbing his tears away with his arms as if he was a child again. Ochako watched as Mitsuki made it down and hugged her son. As Katsuki's sobs developed, she bit her lip, holding back tears of frustration.
As much as she wants to lend a hand, a place where the blonde can confide in, it is not her place. To lose the most important person that has been there for the majority of one's life... out of all people only Mitsuki can understand the pain.
Ochako looks out the window. The world cries, mourning the loss of a person so precious, yet the sky shines beautifully as if creating a warm environment to welcome Midoriya Izuku back to heaven.
Katsuki fumbles with the key to their shared apartment before grabbing the handle. Opening it, he took off his shoes in the genkan and proceeded to go inside. He went on autopilot, going straight to the bathroom to take a quick shower. After putting on some clothes, he went to the kitchen to make himself some dinner.
Opening the fridge, he grabbed some ingredients before turning to the counter where he is met with a bouquet. For a while, he stood there, just looking at it like it is a strange object in their home. Putting the ingredients down, he approached it. For a while, all he did was stare at it, contemplating on what he should do. Slowly, he grabs the bouquet of sunflowers. It’s rather dusty now.
He left it there after all.
The flowers have all wilted. He frowns and reaches for one single flower that stays yellow. Closing his eyes, he pulled a chair and sat on it, feeling those tingly feelings on the bridge of his nose. God… Carefully, he hugs the bouquet, careful as to not destroy the delicate thing. Careful to not mess with the arrangements that the flowers are in. Wanting desperately to preserve the last ever thing that he bought for Izuku.
Katsuki sobs anew, leaning onto the counter. Izuku, who is as warm and soft as the sunflower, has now gone cold just like the bouquet.
Leaving him just before Izuku can wear his name.
Breathing feels harder now. Opening his eyes, he blinks them a few times to get rid of streams of tears blurring his vision. He was supposed to give the bouquet to Izuku, and then say something sappy such as ‘you can only leave me when all the flowers wilted’ or something. And then… finally give Izuku the ring that he had been saving for when Izuku's treatment came close to an end.
But the universe can be cruel. Izuku faced some complications just near the fucking finish line, and before he knew it, he was holding that delicate scarred hand one last time with his own.
And the bouquet never got delivered to Izuku.
Once he calms himself down a little bit, he pulls the singular fake sunflower out the bouquet. Leaning back, he holds the flower limply, but still carefully. The fake flower looks really lonely. With its friends consumed by time except for the singular fake flower in his hold.
They look almost alike. The flower and him.
He tiredly chuckles, resting his head on the counter. The exhaustion of the last week has finally caught up to his body.
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