“You know I always did wonder why you hated me.”
Katsuki eyes shot open, heart hammering in his chest, a painful rhythm against his rib cage that reminded him achingly of the fact that he himself was still alive. That voice. He bolted upright, then off his bed entirely, bare feet hitting the carpet of his bedroom fast enough to lose friction and send him crashing to the floor.
In the darkness of his room he couldn’t make out anything clearly, and the tears already blurring his vision made it worse. It didn’t take long before sobs overtook his frame completely, shoulders shaking under the weight of the impossibility, choked cries escaping him loud enough to alert his parents.
The door opened quickly — not slammed, his father caught it before it could ricochet off the wall — and within moments his mom was at his side, kneeling on the floor beside him.
“Breathe, honey. Katsuki baby please. I know. Oh I know baby.” Warm arms wrapped around him, pulling him to his mother’s chest. The tears didn’t stop, clogging his sight, cloying his senses, until he felt like he was five again, screaming about the unfairness of the world while his mother held him through it, snotty nose and all.
He knew that nightmares were a possibility, but it had sounded so real, so close, like had he just woken up a moment sooner, or reached out his hands would have brushed the edge of that stupid fucking ‘t-shirt’ shirt that he thought was funnier than he’d have ever allowed himself to admit. That they could have tangled in messy green curls or touched warm living skin as the damn nerd looked at him with that tired resignation he always had for him these days.
He used to look at him with hope. With admiration. With the boyish affection that came with childhood puppy love. He stopped looking at Katsuki like that since middle school started, simmering down to rejection and confusion, and then just blank eyed exhaustion as the years went on.
Katsuki wouldn’t admit it but that always hurt like a knife to the gut. It was hard to tell himself he was doing it for Deku’s own good, to keep him away from heroism, to try to scare him off, to protect him from all that crap when he didn’t even have a quirk when it stripped the hope out of his eyes with every confrontation and insult. It was enough to make a man hate himself, seeing the person you had allowed yourself to become, knowing that your justification wasn’t a good one to start with.
It didn’t matter anymore anyways.
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