A month.

That's how long it's been since shitty Deku stopped coming to school. That's how long it's been since Deku's been staring back at him from the pages of a missing poster, his nervous face littered all over Shizuoka prefecture.

"Stupid Deku." Katsuki Bakugou's palms prickled with small explosions. He punched the millionth missing poster he'd seen that day, setting it aflame. They set his teeth on edge and filled his stomach with guilt—an emotion he hadn't had the displeasure of feeling in a very long time. He watched Deku's face singe, the spent ashes floating away in the wind.

"Katsuki!" His mother's shrill voice bombarded him the second he closed the front door behind him.

"What?"

"Wash up and don't be a brat. We're having a guest over for dinner." His mother appeared in the kitchen doorway, drying her hands on a towel. She looked determined, as if she knew Katsuki was itching for a fight. Katsuki always found it both unsettling and impressive the way she managed to read Katsuki like a book. A guest at dinner wasn't anything new. His parents were popular, friendly people and networking was in their job description. Usually, his parents let him hide in his room. Unlike his parents, Katsuki was not friendly—popular, maybe, in a certain light, but people were a drain on him. He would never let that weakness show, but he was always mentally exhausted after school and it had nothing to do with the lackluster teaching curriculum.

"But—"

"Don't test me, Katsuki. No buts. And when Midoriya-san gets here, you will be tolerable."

"M-Midoriya?" Katsuki hated that he stuttered. Why in the fuck was stupid Deku's mom coming to dinner? He had to look at Deku's face all day, and now he would have to see an exact replica sitting across from him at dinner. Why couldn't he have just a moment of peace?

"Listen, kid. I know you and Izuku weren't friends anymore, but I still care about Midoriya-san. Her son is missing and she needs a friend," his mom's voice was uncharacteristically soft, and she set her hand on his shoulder. Katsuki scoffed at her.

"Missing? He's dead." He slapped her hand away and hurried upstairs. He only slightly listened to her shrill admonishments, "I swear to fuck, brat, if you say anything like that while Midoriya-san is here—" He slammed his door, effectively drowning her out.

It was the first time he'd ever said it out loud. He's dead. Deku is probably dead and it is not Katsuki's fault.

"It's not my fault. It's not my fault." Katsuki repeated it over and over to himself, pacing back and forth in his room. He broke out into a cold sweat, his palms popping and sparking. His mom would kill him if he blew anything up. He stomped to the bathroom to clean up.

Katsuki never really cared enough to pick up on social cues, so awkwardness wasn't a feeling he was too familiar with. But this dinner was awkward as fuck and it was pissing him off. Midoriya Inko sat across from him at the dinner table, her eyes perpetually shiny. She looked too much like Deku and he did his best to look anywhere but at her even though she could feel her stare boring into his very soul. This awful dinner consisted of long, painful silences. His mom kept trying to start a conversation by asking safe, boring questions. Mrs. Midoriya squeaked out small, one word responses that killed the conversation before it ever got going. Katsuki shoveled his food into his mouth so fast he hardly tasted it, desperate to escape.

"Can I be excused," he deadpanned, eyeing his mom across the table. She narrowed her eyes slightly, but she looked too worn out to really fight him. She sighed, "Sure, kid."

Thank fuck, he thought as he backed out his chair and stood up. He gave a half-hearted bow in Mrs. Midoriya's direction, still avoiding looking at her. He hurried toward the stairs when her mousy voice spoke up, "Wait, please."

He swallowed, feeling guilt rising from the pit of his stomach. Please, Kacchan. Deku and his mom were too similar. He had to get out of there. He turned quickly toward their green haired guest, only meeting her eyes for a second before looking away.

"I-" she started, her voice shaky, "You used to be friends... Do you know anything about where he could be? Did he say anything on his last day? I just—I don't know what else to do."

Katsuki couldn't meet her eyes knowing they were swimming in tears, so he looked at the floor instead. What could he say to her that would make her feel even remotely better?

I blew up his notebook and made him cry.

I told him to kill himself.

I told him he was useless and I think he believed me this time.

He's probably dead and it's all my fault.

"I don't know anything." He huffed a haughty sigh and retreated upstairs, far away from Mrs. Midoriya's wet, horribly familiar gaze.