Sweet Relief (BAKUDEKU)

A Slip of the Tongue

Sometimes all a person needed in life was a little indulgence. A bit of sugar never hurt anyone right? Except for the 180,000 people who die relating to sugary drinks a year, and the 37.3 million Americans alone suffering from diabetes. Sugar is a bad thing. Izuku Midoriya knew that, of course. Everyone did. It was jammed down their throats from the time they were born until they were sent out into the real world 18 years later. Low carb this, organic that. But Izuku Midoriya had sort of learned to ignore this.

Growing up inside of a bakery, and helping his single mother as her sole support employee definitely added to this. He couldn't care less about the health thing. He ate fine, he worked out, all his levels, accepting his height, were just around average for his age anyway.

"Don't worry mom! I've got the shop for tonight, you just rest up. I don't want your back to get any worse than it already is," Izuku awkwardly chuckled, rubbing the back of his head. Inko's back had been bothering her increasingly with age and Izuku, caring for his mother dearly, would gladly handle closing time rushes just so she could sit down for a bit. Everyone deserved some sweet relief. After all, that's why they owned the sweet shop in the first place. Though it was primarily a bakery, shelves stocked with pastries, cakes, cookies, you name it, they also had quite the stock of homemade candies. The shop was so well known across the town of Izumo, that it was no surprise they were so busy all of the time.

Well, as busy as you could be, living in a town with just over 4,000 residents. Nothing they handled was anything like the bustling cities of Tokyo or Kyoto. Izumo was truly a small town. It was well spaced out, with one main street with several little shops here and there, a bank, a post office, a town hall. Just the necessities, and of course, Sweet Relief bakery.

"Are you sure, sweetpea? I don't want it to be too much for you..."

"Trust me, mom! I've got it!" he smiled gently, reassuringly.

"Alright..." as she turned, she placed one hand on the small of her back, wincing as she walked in towards the backdoor of their bakery, which lead to the rest of their house, attached to the store. "As long as you're sure..." she walked into their house and as Izuku watched her do so, he was forced to turn back around by the sound of the front door's bell ringing. Automatically, he went to greet the person in the doorway.

"Hello! Thank you for coming to-" he was cut off as he opened his eyes, seeing an unfortunately familiar face. It was Katsuki Bakugo, a regular at the shop. His childhood friend, and middle school bully.

Katsuki scoffed, not even looking at Izuku. Izuku let out a little sigh of disappointment. It was April of their first year at their high school, meaning school would be out soon enough. And Katsuki came in almost everyday like clockwork right after school when Izuku's shift would start. And every single time, like clockwork, he would be completely ignored except for what was absolutely necessary. It was the same at school. Ever since the summer when Izuku had gained some meat on his bones, working out and training, Katsuki had seemed to leave him alone for the most part. It had been 3 years since that summer, and they were both 18 and about to graduate high school. Izuku knew he should be relieved. He hated Katsuki for the way he had treated him. But part of him wanted to see the good in his childhood bestfriend, hoping maybe Katsuki felt guilty for what he had done.

After all, when they were little, Katsuki had been mean to him. But he had allowed himself to be the ONLY one mean to him. When they played, he would push him around, sometimes kick him, or try and hurt him in really anyway he could. It seemed like Katsuki had always been a sadist. As middle school hit, Izuku had come out as bisexual. For awhile, Izuku regretted this decision greatly as it did NOTHING but fuel the fire that Katsuki had held against him. By now Izuku had come to terms with the fact he was bisexual and out, and even considered himself rather proud of how he felt.