Ever since Izuku was a child, he knew that he had to limit the amount of heartaches he took.
He's seen it before. Izuku knew that people had a limit. Some may be more capable of handling more than others, but they weren't invincible.
And there was always one heartache that he constantly saw, ever since he was young
Izuku's familiar with it, yes. It became part of his personal life when he was only five years old. He saw the signs of it, of course, but he never knew what it meant. But then, it introduced himself to him in unreturned calls, nonexistent letters, and his mother's tears. Whenever Izuku would ask about his father, instead of talking about the man with warm smiles and affection in her eyes, his mother would say many different sentences, but they all boiled down to "He's off working in America", which was the truth, yes, but never the whole truth.
Sometimes he misses the firm, yet gentle hugs his father gave him when he was three.
--
It was when he was in middle school, where his new acquaintance showed it's face once again.
This time, he saw it in the form of his teacher's missing wedding ring, replaced photo frames, and the smell of alcohol mixed with breakfast.
Izuku has been observant since he was young, showing itself in notebooks filled with crayon, slowly developing into hastily written pencil, and more in-depth writing. He saw changes in behavior and habits.
He saw how Tanaka-sensei's behavior towards him and the other students, surprisingly, had gotten crueler. All of his fellow pupils seemed to get in trouble more often, over little things such as fidgeting in class, or just staring out the window for a few seconds, instead of paying attention.
He saw how sometimes, when Tanaka-sensei would leave the bathroom, he would see a faint dribble of vomit on the corner of his mouth.
It was around this time, when he started to see heartbreak as more than just something that happened. Izuku would start to personify it as some sort of mystical being that casted heartbreak onto others. As he saw the people around him fail in their relationships, it felt like heartbreak would be one of the few people that would be a constant in his life. He was almost comforted by that thought. Almost.
--
As peoples' changes in personality, a victim's bad habits, and his mother's tears slowly filled his head, he couldn't help but think, "Is this truly the price I may have to pay, all for the chance of intimacy?"
He's seen enough of the effects of his "friend's" (can someone be your friend if they don't exist?) actions, that it was incredibly easy to make up his mind.
Izuku would never want himself, or anyone he cares about to go through that.
He just hopes he can keep to his word.
--
It's about nine o'clock a night, when he hears a knock on his dorm's door.
And when Jirou whispers out a confession of love for Yaoyorozu, he can't help but feel fear.
Fear stemming from, "What if?".
Fear stemming from everything he's seen and heard, that he knows to be true.
Fear that leads to him subtly encouraging her to not confess her love, because of all the things that could potentially go wrong.
Fear that leads to Jirou's longing stares across the classroom, stares that slowly start to fade away.
And, for some reason, he can't help but feel guilt at that.
--
It's times like this, when Izuku wishes he wasn't so observant.
He wishes he wasn't so observant when he notices Todoroki's expression slightly shift whenever Izuku speaks to him. He notices the signs. He sees the same ones he saw with Jirou, only this time, it's directed towards him.
And, for his friend's sake, we wishes that it could've been for someone else.
Izuku starts to act colder towards his friend, the only thought keeping him from cracking being, "I can just treat him the same once he gets over me. It's for his own good." The guilt eats away at him whenever he sees Todoroki's reactions, and for a second, he wishes things could've been different.
His mind convinces himself that this is how it has to be.
He can't risk the consequences of the other route.
A person can only take so much heartache, after all.