Bakugou Katsuki sat on a stool, leaning on his apartment's kitchen counter in the dark. In front of him he had placed two small glasses and a bottle of whiskey.
"Hey, Kacchan."
Katsuki didn't turn around. He poured the whiskey into both glasses, set one aside, and drank from the other.
"Sorry to bother you so late at night," Izuku said from several feet behind him. "I didn't know when I'd get the chance to talk to you again. You've been busy."
Down the street, a dog barked into the night. Neither of them spoke.
Izuku broke the silence. "I've been meaning to tell you this for a long time… You really caused me a lot of shit back in the day, you know? Quirkless this, Deku that. Stealing my stuff, ruining my uniform, exploding my notebook, telling me to jump off the roof… But I never told Mom, 'cause even when you treated me like dirt, I still believed that somewhere deep down, you were still my friend. Stupid of me, I guess. But you know what they say about hindsight."
Katsuki finished his drink and poured some more into his glass.
"And when you got into UA, not a single rescue point to your name, I didn't think you'd ever change- until you did. You made friends, and even though you were still a dick, you learned that there are things more important than being number one. Now look at you, a real-life pro hero. Just yesterday, you saved three lives. I'm so proud of you."
Katsuki drained his glass.
"Why won't you say anything, Kacchan?"
Katsuki stood up, stool screeching against the floor. "Because I know you're not real."
He grabbed the second glass of whiskey, still untouched, and stalked across the kitchen to the hallway leading toward his bedroom. At the entrance, he stopped to place the glass on a small table- a memorial shrine with incense, a scorched notebook, and a picture of Izuku, age fourteen, all skinny limbs and the brightest smile there ever was.
In the morning, when Katsuki woke, the glass was empty.