{Denial} BakuDeku

Prologue

———

Katsuki knows it's bad.

He doesn't know where the feeling inside him started, though.

Whether it was from when he was seven- when he liked how boys smiled, or when he turned ten and wandered into the magazine section of "Mustafu's Best", belatedly ignoring the promiscuous models posed in such a seductive way with thin-laced swimsuits covering their in-betweens. Instead, his curious eyes wandered towards shirtless men with smirks on their faces, white teeth shining like a silver platter under the sun.

Or when he became eleven one day, and his mother, the angry old hag, invited an "old visiting friend" of hers, a sweet, plump woman the same age as Mitsuki. Her smile was warm and comforting, a motherly aura naturally curling around her like some sort of warm satin blanket. The greenette had brought her son along.

The boy took after his mom, with all the sunny smiles and bright emerald eyes, the curled, bushy green hair stuck out in odd places, and his hugs where warm and safe.

His freckles made Katsuki's heart speed up with adrenaline, along with the whole-hearted praises he had received from the younger boy. "You're so cool, Kacchan!," He always giggled, mossy hair swayed to the side from the strong winds as they hung their legs off of the edge of a steep cliff with nothing but foliage underneath their toes.

Katsuki had dug his fingers into the soft earth, ignoring the dirt under his finger nails as he harshly tugged on the weeds. "Shitty Deku!," he always snapped, eyebrows creasing in confusion as pink dusted his cheeks. He took a gulp of fresh air to steady himself, wind whistling insistently in his ears.

His pants were damp from the morning dew he sat on, a brown satchel containing snacks idly hanging around his waist as they both curled around each other in the forest- this time at age of twelve.

Strands of green hair tickled his nose as the younger boy rested his head against his chest, sitting against a large boulder in their secret clearing- a place no one knows about but them, and a place where they came to hug and laugh, to share the packed bentos their mothers would pack for them.

They didn't eat their bentos for lunch, but they both headed into the clearing with the food in hand, excitement always present in both their chests and the lingering thoughts of telling their mom's that they wouldn't be home in two hours slipping away like always as they sat and chatted in their grim and black middle-school uniforms.

Their classmates would whisper, mouths moving in indecipherable lines, accusation slipping off of their tongues but would quickly shut up when Katsuki cracked his knuckles.

Katsuki hated how they talked.

Hated how they would stare too long at Deku and his intertwined hands as he dragged the latter into the safe haven of a clearing in the woods, his bento shaken up and the side dishes probably turning into mush.

Hated how they actively avoided them both like the Black Plague, judgmental looks thrown to them when they sit together a bit too close during lunch, Deku's leg hanging around Katsuki's thigh in a comfortable, relaxed manner as he idly chatted away like a robot on auto-pilot.

His hands moved as if to convey what he was speaking about, grin stretching as he beamed so brightly like the sun, his shoulder grazing Katsuki's in a split second fashion.

But Katsuki knows he was aware.

Aware of the stares, aware that every time they moved that people would be looking and whispering lies under their noses.

That he was aware of the History Teacher's uncomfortable looks whenever Izuku's hand lingered on the latter's during projects.

The lunch lady's mild glare fixated on them whenever Izuku spooned a piece of Katsudon in Bakugou's mouth, giving them smaller portions than the rest of the pupils.

His mother's green eyes boring through their woven arms stuck together whenever Katsuki visited or came over for a project, a smile so forced you could see the tears in the fabricated and delighted "bright" warm smile turned cold and wondering over their weird physical endearment towards each other.

Katsuki could see how Inko's hand tightened around the tray of black tea she brought to Izuku's room whenever she caught Katsuki close to him- whether it be a brush of a hand or him leaning towards Izuku's natural comfort.

Izuku stayed oblivious to his mother's actions, thanking her for the black tea and offering Katsuki a sip from his own cup with a beaming expression as he accidentally knocked his math book over and his expression immediately turned apologetic.

"Sorry, Sorry Kacchan," He would huff as he collected the books off the ground, nimble fingers wrapping around the books as he bent over and picked them up.

Katsuki would grunt and roll his eyes half-heartedly, but Deku was used to the responses.

———

It would repeat like this for a year, until they both turned thirteen.

He was aware of Inko's disapproval towards him now.

He doesn't blame her.

He hung out with a wrong crowd, had a snarky attitude, and overall the act of someone you would think of as a delinquent- a drop out from some school.

Her stares lingered more when Izuku hugged Katsuki, having the older boy stoop down for the latter to wrap his arms around his neck, a soft giggle flying from his mouth as he muttered "Kacchan is so nice and warm," again in his ear. They both stood by the doorway, Izuku's back turned against the hardened stare of Midoriya Inko.

Izuku had retained his childishness, giving out physical contact easily like a child, hugging random strangers and having all those soft curves that Katsuki liked to playfully pinch, getting a yelp along with a scolding and very light smack on the shoulder as a response. His freckles now littered the bridge of his nose, his chest, and shoulders like stars lining the sky.

It was endearing.

————

Inko didn't like Bakugou.

He had displayed it clearly and made Katsuki know. And he understood.

He perfectly understood.

So why was he surprised..?

"I'm sorry Kacchan," the younger one sobbed harshly, crumbling in his arms as a black backpack hung around his shoulder. Snot and tears leaked out of his face like a waterfall, knees threatening to give out. "I'm sorry. I don't want to move out..! I just!-"

Katsuki drowned everything out, red eyes blanking as his childhood friend let out more frustrated and grievous pearly tears.

"It's fine, Deku," he whispered quietly as he stood in the desolate road with Izuku, fingers painfully digging into his clothed shoulder blades to try and ground himself.

The blue moving truck was parked mockingly in front of the Midoriya's' house, engine revving up a storm as workers busied like ants moved boxes
back and forth.

Bakugou felt blank as a stone slate, unresponsive unlike his best and only friend who collapsed into his grip- whispering apologies.

His shoulder was when with tears from Izuku's who had his face pressed against it as he sobbed to his heart's content- yet.. He couldn't feel anything.

————

It wasn't until three hours later, when Izuku had moved out, had Katsuki realized that this was all real. That was his last time seeing Izuku- Deku. The last time he sees the person who made his heart go funny, the last time he would see the boy both beaming with smiles and teaming with unrestrained tears.

The last time he saw Midoriya Izuku, ever. The last time he saw his closest friend, and the last time he would hear his voice cheer and say "Kacchan!," in an airy care-free tone.

Katsuki sinks to his knees and burns.