"Open wide, Kacchan!" Izuku said in a happy sing-song tune. He grinned from ear to ear as he lifted a silver fork that held a small bite of his latest strawberry creation.
"Sure thing, sweet. Give me a moment."
The blond teenager in question quickly checked a text message. Izuku watched, undoubtedly curious as Katsuki's fingers worked quickly. His boyfriend tilted his phone just enough that Izuku couldn't see everything. But he saw one thing: In place of a name, "XXXX" was in the identification slot.
A feeling of eeriness scratched at the back of Izuku's head. Katsuki had lazily glanced over at whatever message he received. Then his eyebrow twitched and his nose slightly crinkled. But just as quickly had that trickle of irritation appeared, it vanished. Katsuki sweetly smiled at him at the same time he turned his phone face down on the wooden table.
"Alright, I'm ready. Hit me with that good shit you made."
He gave all his attention back to Izuku with a small smirk as he opened his mouth.
Izuku's fragile smile faltered for a moment. Then he picked it back up and carefully pinned it back on his face. He reminded himself that this was supposed to be a sweet moment between them and not bring up anything that would twist it into bitterness. He fed the small piece of tart into his high school sweetheart's mouth, eager for his feedback.
They maintained eye contact the entire time, and Izuku could feel himself blush slightly. Katsuki always managed to make him flustered whenever he helped him fix up something in the kitchen. There was a small hum of delight that slipped past Katsuki's lips, and he smirked handsomely at Izuku while clutching his phone.
"That was fucking amazing," Katsuki complimented with a small chuckle. He licked his lips to catch some of the residue sweetness. "Now what was wrong with it? I heard you muttering up a
storm over there like something was missing, but this is fantastic."
"Oh, I-I think I need one more ingredient," Izuku mumbled slightly. "If I had white truffles I could make Toshinori's famous chocolate white truffles recipe. Maybe I could even win the whole prize money for university."
"White truffles or not, you're going to win that bake off without an issue. Everyone else might as well go home now."
Izuku beamed and his heart thumped hard. His eyes sparkled and widened at the praise as he clutched the tiny fork in his hand.
"You really think so, Kacchan?"
"I know so." Katsuki gave a cocky grin and leaned across the table with a look of adoration. "You're the best baker in school. There's not a doubt in my mind that you're going to win that competition and everyone else is going to suck ass."
Izuku's heart leaped and his eyes softened. It soared high, feeling amazing that Katsuki really thought he was going to win. The blond teen was a lot of things, but dishonest was never one. He always made sure to give Izuku his honest opinion on whether anything he baked tasted too sour, salty or even sweet. Katsuki had an excellent palette and Izuku utilized it to his full abilities all the time.
"I couldn't have done it without you though," Izuku said in a gentle tone. He smoothed out his green apron and sat down in the chair across from Katsuki. "Thank you so much for always being my taste tester."
"Of course, I'd do anything for you, sweet."
Katsuki gazed back at him and Izuku remembered why he loved him so much. There was a stillness in the air that filled up with gentle, soft looks and Izuku could feel his heart pounding in his chest more. He reached for Katsuki's hand sitting on the tabletop—but stopped when Katsuki's phone buzzed again.
Both their smiles fell away.
Katsuki pressed his lips in a thin line before flipping his phone over and Izuku retracted his hand. Izuku turned his head away slightly, eyes averted to the dirty dishes sitting on the worn-down kitchen table. He curled his hands in his lap to prevent himself from saying something he might regret later as Katsuki's fingers went click clack on the phone screen.
Izuku surveyed all the small cracks on the table and on the wall to distract himself. He stared around at the flowery wallpaper that was dingy and the crooked family portraits hanging up. Izuku caught sight of the way one piece of wallpaper was slipping down. A corner was peeled back showing the moldy surface underneath. It was ironic, in a way. It reminded Izuku no matter how much prettiness can be slapped on top of a problem, it was always festering underneath.
"I have to run," Katsuki said. Izuku wished then that his voice held a little bit more reluctancy, but it didn't. "I'll be right back before you go to bed, alright?"
Izuku could only respond with a small head nod. His throat was feeling sore now, and he feared his voice might crack if he spoke. He turned to Katsuki and gazed at him with the best fake smile he could muster.
Of course, Katsuki clearly saw through it and exhaled roughly through his nose. "Hey, don't be upset. Really, I'll be fine and I'm sure it won't take all night."
But Izuku couldn't really stop the disappointment from showing through. His brows pinched together when Katsuki rose from his seat. The old wooden chair creaked heavily against the tilted kitchen floor. Katsuki leaned over and gave him a loving kiss on the cheek and moved to turn away.
Izuku shot his hand out. He grabbed Katsuki by his elbow, stopping him in place. The blond teenager turned around, a bit shocked, and Izuku became aware of the tears pouring down his cheeks as he stared at his boyfriend.
"Don't go," Izuku begged. He squeezed the words past the tightness in his throat. "Please. Stay with me tonight, Kacchan."
"You know I have to go when my boss calls, Izuku."
There was no sweet nickname this time. Only hard seriousness and the cold exterior Izuku had been watching form over Katsuki's soul the older they became.
Izuku's hold on Katsuki went slack and his boyfriend walked forward towards the discolored white door without another word. He slipped on his shoes and threw on his winter coat. Right as Katsuki reached for the door, he turned to give Izuku a reassuring smirk.
All Izuku could give him in exchange was a look of longing. The door quietly shut and Izuku found himself alone.
The wind rattled the dusty, neglected windows and howled. The sound of nothingness reminded Izuku exactly how alone he was as he sat in the kitchen by himself. There was no one else around because his mom was off to the other side of the country. The person whose house she tended to asked her to spend the week because of an important event, which resulted in Izuku home alone.
Izuku quietly stood up from his own creaky wooden chair. He wiped away the hot tears stinging his eyes and began washing the dishes.
As he looked around at the mess of flour, chocolate and left-over dough, Izuku wondered how they got to this point: with him baking in the kitchen on school nights, and Katsuki running errands for some shady man across town.
But all Izuku could really think about was how it all led back to baking.
The smell of sweet bread, butter, and the feeling of flour on his hands always had brought him an inexplicable rush of joy. Every time he turned on the oven, he allowed himself to become utterly lost in the chaos of mixing ingredients together. It was beyond thrilling to make unknown, exciting new combinations that would bring smiles to everyone's faces.
But what he loved most about baking was the handsome smirk he would be given by Katsuki in particular. Whenever the blond taste-tested a new pastry of his, his red eyes would grow sharper as he gave Izuku every last drop of his attention. Those looks ignited sweet butterflies in Izuku's stomach that fluttered softly. That small sensation whenever Katsuki looked at him was all Izuku needed in the world on some days.
And somehow because of that, Katsuki became Izuku's reason to bake. Then gradually Katsuki
wanted Izuku to bake more when he saw how happy it made him. Katsuki would go out of his way to pick up wayward jobs to buy Izuku all the groceries and baking materials he wanted.
However, the only issue was their living situation.
Izuku looked over his shoulder at the peeling piece of wallpaper.
Staring at the dark, fuzzy green spot peaking from underneath reminded him that they didn't have much money. Both of their families struggled heavily to make ends meet. Coupled with that, the owners of the apartment building they grew up in didn't seem to care about anything. The landlords always ignored the rundown conditions tenants were subjected to because they knew everyone needed a place to stay, and they took full advantage of that.
To try to free his mind from their problems, baking progressively became an escape for Izuku to find a slice of joy in all the hardship.
Whenever he found himself wrestling with insomnia, he wandered into the kitchen and baked. If he was stumped on some dumb math problem, he baked. If he didn't want to clean up right away, he baked. When his mom cried after his dad left, he baked.
Eventually, it became the same for Katsuki—or at least Izuku assumed so.
When Katsuki asked him out in the first year of high school, he promised Izuku that they would move out to a better side of town and open up Izuku's dream bakery together. Izuku desperately wanted to believe that to be true, so he didn't pay it any mind when he found himself showered in all the cookbooks and pots and pans Katsuki could find.
Part of Izuku wondered where Katsuki was getting the money. However, the other part of him was thankful because he could never afford his dreams on his own. There was a budding mysterious side to Katsuki, a side that no one could tell unravel or see. Not even Izuku.
The blond boy of his childhood was a walking enigma of a hurricane.
Ever since they were kids, Katsuki was hard to read to everyone. But for Izuku he was close to an open book. But only close to it. There were still pages of him that Izuku couldn't decode, but Izuku had no doubt in his mind that Katsuki was his person. Especially when Katsuki would smile at him privately with gentleness. That was saved for him and only him.
However, when they reached the age of fifteen, something began to happen.
Katsuki became more preoccupied with finding jobs around the city that allowed him to still study and spend time with Izuku. At first, Izuku figured Katsuki was running under the table errands for someone on the wealthier sides of town. But Katsuki would come back with wads of cash. Obscene loads of it to the point Izuku questioned where he got it from.
Then on top of it, Katsuki hid most of it from his parents—giving them just enough to think he had an after-school job.
Whenever Izuku questioned it, Katsuki would give him that charming lopsided grin, a kiss on the cheek and tell him, "Don't worry about it, sweet."
But in true Izuku fashion, he worried.
He worried when he spotted Katsuki in alleys.
He worried when he saw him dress finer.
He worried especially when he saw his attitude become a bit more calloused and he was starting to act cold towards people. Izuku worried all the way up until now, as they were getting ready to go off to university on their own.
Izuku couldn't stop worrying if he tried.
Even now, he worried as he finished washing the dishes and straightened up the kitchen.
The wind blew stronger as the night deepened, and Izuku went to bed that night alone. He struggled to keep his eyes open, and he kept his ears peeled for any indication that Katsuki would somehow wander back in. When the digital clock's red lettering read well into the early hours of the morning, Izuku fell asleep despite himself.
Soft gentle light woke him the next morning instead of Katsuki.
Izuku frowned all the way to the kitchen and sitting there was a white note taped to the fridge. It didn't go unnoticed to him that there was a small trace of dried blood staining the corner.
"I won't be at school today. Sorry for being out late and sorry for having to miss the bake off today. But I put a surprise in the fridge for you. You're going to kill the competition. Show those extras who's the best chef in Japan."
Izuku opened the fridge to find a bundle of white truffles sitting neatly inside for him. There was even a small green bow taped on top.
When the bake off arrived, Izuku won.
He was pinned with a giant blue ribbon that had '1st place' on it. All the judges were smiling at him lovingly, gathered around proudly as if they were his parents. With their hearty laughs, they told him he was going to be the future of Japan's culinary arts as they gave him the award money. He shook their hands and took pictures for a million cameras with bright flashing lights. Izuku even got his name recognized by the educational head of their province.
However, there was a twinge of bitterness at the back of his tongue when the crowd cheered. The one person he wished could be there, wasn't.
And he wasn't there when he came back home to the empty apartment.
When the first year of university came, it was clear to Izuku that this was the fork in the road for the two of them. It was wide like a parting ocean, and they were on opposite sides of the wall of water. There was no way their paths could cross and Izuku was beginning to bitterly realize that.
Izuku took to majoring in Culinary Arts, wanting to pursue his dream of opening up a quiet bakery with his mother's recipes.
Katsuki started spending more time uptown.
Not the nice part of uptown, but the shady parts that made a feeling like spiders tickling at the back
of Izuku's neck ignite. His boyfriend barely spent time with him now, trading him in for that unknown name on his phone that asked him to go do errands.
Whenever he asked his boyfriend to taste a new treat, now Katsuki would halfheartedly do it. He was too distracted by whatever was on his damn phone. It made a part of Izuku rot, turn sour and chip from his spirit as he watched the gap between them grow bigger.
If Izuku wanted to go out on date nights, or explore University parties, Katsuki was too busy. It was always, "I got somethin' to do, I'll be back later." or "Can we raincheck, sweet? I got an important meetin' with that old man I work for."
There was never later, and there was never a raincheck.
It was always Izuku alone weathering the storm by himself.
Then finally the breaking point occurred.
It was a day Izuku thought would be filled with joy, Kacchan's birthday! He had woken up early
for Katsuki's 19th birthday, grinning like a lovesick fool. His boyfriend had emphasized that he would for sure be back to spend time with him. So Izuku didn't doubt it. He kept his smile pinned on his face when Katsuki was thirty minutes late. He even kept it pinned when he was two hours late.
But that same smile crumbled under his tears and neglect when six hours passed.
Izuku had spent all day baking and cooking his boyfriend's favorite food for nothing only for Katsuki to saunter in at nearly 03:21AM.
Izuku snapped at the sight of his disheveled fancy clothes.
A fight as loud as a hurricane erupted between them as they raised their voices. Izuku threw the cake he wept over next to Katsuki's head with all his strength. It hit the wall with a loud splat, and all the icing and bites of wasted dessert scattered. The pink frosting sprinkled into Katsuki's hair, and his face was stunned into disbelief. They stared at each other; boiling point reached.
Izuku's tears stung. Why was this happening? What the hell was Katsuki always putting before him? Was he that goddamn unimportant? Swiftly, his feet moved like he was a natural disaster as he ran upstairs to rummage through Katsuki's things.
Katsuki chased after him immediately, yelling at the top of his lung for Izuku to stop.
He pushed Katsuki off of him as he grabbed for the drawer of their dresser that was always 'off limits'. He snatched it open, tumbling it to the ground with a loud clank and everything that was inside came tumbling out.
Guns, brass knuckles, bullets and knives sprayed across their bedroom floor with loud metallic scraping sounds.
Izuku's vision grew bleary. He choked back a sob as he stared at Katsuki fumbling to try to pick up the weapons. All the bitterness inside his chest ripened and his heart cracked in two under the weight of reality. He had finally found the confirmation to what he already knew. He always had a scratch at the back of his conscious telling him that Katsuki was involved with shady people, but that didn't mean he wanted to be right.
He slowly bent down to pick up the bloodied brass knuckles that fell next to his feet.
"Kacchan," Izuku murmured desperately through his tears. "Are you hurting people? Please. Tell me you're not hurting people."
Katsuki opened his mouth but didn't answer.
Izuku's face crumbled into misery and his hand shook. "Why are you throwing your life away like this?"
Katsuki quickly shook his head and gripped Izuku's shoulders as loud sobs wrecked through the smaller teen. Izuku's whole world felt like it was tilting underneath his feet, thrown off balance by finally facing the truth. Katsuki was running errands for someone—bloody errands.
"I'm not throwing my life away, I fucking swear I'm not," Katsuki desperately tried to reason. "I'm making our lives better. Don't you see? I've been running errands for this old gangster for a while, and he's been the one giving me all the money to your baking stuff. He's showing me the ropes and soon everything will be alright."
The crazed look swirling in red eyes was something Izuku didn't recognize. He recoiled.
This wasn't his Katsuki anymore.
"How is this making things better?" Izuku questioned sorrowfully. He shook his head slowly and screwed his eyes shut. "You haven't spent any time with me for years. Yo-You spend all your time elsewhere and now you're telling me you've been trading me in for a gangster. I thought at first it was you running errands for this guy, but you're hurting people," Izuku wept. "You're actually hurting people."
"Only people who deserve it," Katsuki clarified as if it was better. "I'm building a future for us, Izuku. We won't ever be poor and hungry anymore."
Izuku dropped the brass knuckles and screwed his eyes shut.
"Please, Izuku. This is what we said we wanted," Katsuki hissed wildly. "You with that stupid little bakery and me helping out! I can give you all that with time now."
"Not like this," Izuku replied through tears.
Katsuki pressed his lips in a thin line at the same time his brows furrowed. He shifted and placed his hands over Izuku's in a quiet plea.
"Please," Katsuki rasped out. His eyes searched into Izuku's for understanding. "I can't do this without you."
Izuku's body trembled as he stared in the deep ember like eyes he loved so much. They flickered with passion, want, but he saw fresh blood lust there too. It was hungry, and newly bloomed and craved to release pent up anger somewhere.
Izuku stared down at their intertwined hands. Where he once always saw love, he only saw invisible blood—caked high and staining his palms.
He shook his head slowly. He stepped back, one step at a time until their fingers slid apart. He hated the way his eyes stung. His chest convulsed and his bottom lip quivered as he turned away.
He detested the words he was about to say.
"And I can't do this with you," Izuku sobbed.
Katsuki's breath hitched like he had been speared. Izuku couldn't bring himself to look at him. Katsuki's first curled and his breathing became uneven. He was hurt, and Izuku was hurt too. If someone had asked him to describe the silence in that moment, he would say it sounded like two heart shattering into a million pieces.
Katsuki and him didn't speak after that. Then his ex-lover dropped out of university.
Eight Years Later
Izuku cleaned the countertop of his new bakery until he could see his reflection in it. He smiled at himself in the spotless marble, giddy with excitement as he fastened his green and pink apron.
His heart hadn't felt this full in a long while. He had finally opened up his bakery after years of internships, apprenticeships, and working second rate jobs to save up.
He named it after what his mother said to before she passed: Sweetest Treats.
He had finally got his dream, and in a bitter way he hoped Katsuki got his too. He knew it was torture for his heart to think of the man he left behind, but the memory of Katsuki slithered in too frequently.
News of Katsuki's involvement with gangs spread around their hometown like wildfire.
After their breakup, his cruelty up ticked so heavily that he earned a street name. Izuku didn't bother to learn it. He kept himself far away from that bloodied mess and Katsuki kept himself far away from Izuku too. Eventually the fiery blond stopped coming back home. Katsuki sent his parents enough money to move out—and they did. Mitsuki and Masaru didn't seem to question the lucrative cash flow anymore since they didn't care to be poor.
Even though eight years had passed, Izuku struggled not to let Katsuki in his thoughts. Even in his dreams he was haunted by that handsome smirk. But Izuku found it especially messed up when he would be cleaning his butcher knives and think of Katsuki. In the reflection he swore he could see blood red eyes staring back at him full of dangerous passion.
But Izuku didn't want to think about him right now. He wanted to think about his bakery, that he was excited for!
The first week went swell. People came in after working, and he could see several Uni students become quick regulars, liking the atmosphere for studying.
His bakery was charming with a green and pink color scheme. Tiny cartoon rabbits were on the fresh wallpaper and free chocolate treats were stationed outside to lure the crowds inside. Perched on the walls were photos of Izuku's baking accomplishments. Pictures with head chefs, or with mayors. He had worked his way up from the bottom and now he finally had invested all his saving into his own slice of life.
As people filled his bakery, it warmed his heart to the fullest. It was surreal watching his dreams
play out in front of him.
Then, right before closing on the last day, a group of people strolled in. Izuku was about to announce that he was shutting down for the day but froze when he felt something wrong.
It was about ten gruff men. They had scars littering their face and bandages wrapped around their fists with blood showing through. Worst of all, they dressed like Katsuki used to. Fancy. Luxe. Some animal print shirts that were half unbuttoned with their chests showing. He flinched at their pointed grins and slicked back hair. All of their knuckles were decorated with silver and gold rings and their smiles were looking at him hungrily.
Izuku's heart pounded in his chest. "C-Can I help you?"
"Ah, it's you who can help us," A man who appeared to be the leader chuckled.
He had the worst smile—the hungriest. Like a wolf who had finally caught the prey he had been circling. Izuku studied his wavey copper like hair and a lopsided smirk. The unnamed man walked up to the countertop lazily and that's when Izuku saw the metal bat in his hand. It dragged behind him making a terrible scraping noise that vibrated the atmosphere with dread.
Izuku's heart dropped.
"My name is Isao and you set up shop in our territory, pretty boy," the man further explained. "We collect payment here."
Izuku paled. Territory?
His heart dropped to his stomach fast enough to make him nauseous. He clutched the hems of his
apron in horror when he realized what was happening and how quickly his dream got stomped out. It didn't take long for the man named Isao to antagonize him further.
Isao leaned into his space, ran a hand through his curls, and greedily ate some of the left-over pastries directly in his face with a wicked smirk. The other roughnecks joined in it too, pawing at his apron, calling it frilly and cutesy. Izuku struggled not to cry or scream as they smashed some of his baked goods against the wall and against his face.
Despite his fear, Izuku stayed still. He didn't dare to move or speak when he could see the glint of metal pistols in their hands.
"This is how much you owe us by the end of the month," Isao said with a sinister laugh.
Isao pushed Izuku against the wall and kneeled down. Terror trickled into Izuku's core when the man grabbed the hem of his apron and tugged on it harshly. Without breaking eye contact, Isao pulled out a sharpie and wrote down a number in large black letter on the green cloth.
Izuku stayed deathly still as the man rose to his full height again, towering over him. He screwed his eyes shut when Isao thumbed at some of the icing on the corner of his mouth. The gangster licked it against his tongue and sharply laughed.
"See you soon, sweetcakes," Isao taunted maliciously.
All the bodies in the room shuffled, laughing and cruelly knocking over tables and chairs. When the group left, the door chime rang out, and it signaled he was alone.
Izuku opened his eyes and saw the disaster all around him. He slide down slowly on the wall and cried.
The next day Izuku tried his best to clean up and move on. He attempted to advertise and sell all he could. But it was hard. It was harder than he ever thought it would be. Between the bills to keep the bakery afloat and the new one he was pinned with—he didn't know what to do.
Then on the second week—the last person he expected to walked in and Izuku didn't know what to feel. It felt like time had halted and all movement in the busy bakery stopped. Sharp red eyes glanced around curiously, and blond spikes were somehow more dangerous.
The once angry scowl set on the handsome face was a stale, resting expression. Far less emotion driven but far more lethal. Then those cutthroat eyes glanced over towards him, and it felt like Izuku was transported in one of his dreams.
His ex-lover walked up to the counter with his head down, biting his lip. His shining orange shirt was neatly tucked behind his expensive snake skinned belt and hands were hidden in his black dress pockets. The golden chain on his neck swung, shining a little too brightly.
"Hey, sweet," Katsuki's voice said. It was deeper, gruffer, and it caressed deep parts of Izuku that he wished it no longer did.
Izuku blinked once. Then blinked twice.
The silence between them swelled as the two ex-lovers stared. Katsuki cleared his throat in the awkward tension and strummed his decorated hand on the countertop.
"I, uh, was around and I wanted to check out how the bakery looked."
Izuku turned his attention downwards, towards where the large hand was on the countertop. He studied the shiny silver and gold rings on that veiny, muscular hand. One had a beautiful sapphire gem. The other one a sparkling ruby. Then finally a dazzling emerald. They screamed wealth— blood earned wealth and it spoke to a bitter part of Izuku. He had worked so hard just for his dreams to be taken away by men like this.
Izuku's nostrils flared.
"Get out," Izuku hissed in a low warning. Katsuki made a pained face. "Izu—"
"No! Get out!" Izuku screamed, voice splintering on the ends. Several people whipped their heads towards him, but he didn't give a damn he was making a scene right now. His chest churned angrily with blame as he pointed a finger towards his ex-lover. "Th-This is your fault isn't it? You're the reason why those guys came by, aren't you?"
This time it was Katsuki's turn to be baffled. "Guys? What guys?"
"Don't act like you don't know—"
"—I fucking don't," Katsuki said earnestly.
Izuku scrunched his nose. How did he not know? Wasn't he a lapdog for some top gangster?
Katsuki should know everything, he was that man's eyes and ears last he checked. Plus, those men were dressed exactly like him.
The pair gawked at each other as several beats of silence passed. Then gradually, Izuku's anger shifted to confusion and then rage consumed Katsuki's sharp features. His upper lip twitched into a nasty curl and his eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Did someone come by here and fucking threaten you?"
Izuku clammed up. The wrath in Katsuki's eyes burned through him.
"No," Izuku lied easily, hardening his exterior. He pushed away from the counter and averted his eyes. "Sorry. I'm not having a good day. No one came by, but I need you to go. Pl-Please leave. I can't do this with you. Not today."
"Izuku. If someone threatened you I can help—"
"—I don't want your help," Izuku said curtly. "If I wanted that type of help I would've stayed with you in uni. Now either order something or go."
The words were sharp, and he didn't need to look at Katsuki to know they hurt.
There was several long moments of muteness. Izuku finally glanced back up at Katsuki and he could see blazing scarlet eyes digging into him, calculating carefully.
"I'll take a chai latte and two dorayakis," Katsuki eventually muttered. He looked away and probed his tongue on the inside of his cheek.
"For here or to go?" Izuku muttered back.
He didn't want to ask that question, but he had to. For the sake of civility, of course. Katsuki tilted his head. "For here."
Izuku resisted glowering as he fixed up Katsuki's order.
When he handed his ex-lover his food, their finger brushed slightly, and their eyes connected. Terrible familiar warmth raced like electricity from the tips of his fingers down his spine. Katsuki felt the same, rough yet somehow soft all in one breath. Izuku wished that he could forgot and move on.
They didn't exchange another word.
Katsuki sat down neatly at one of the pastel pink tables and ate his order. He casually scrolled through his phone while Izuku took more orders, bustling around. The two stole glances at each other through the hour, missing the other's longing stare by a single hair.
If Izuku had been paying Katsuki more attention, he would have seen the proud smirk on Katsuki's face.
Izuku thought maybe that'd be the last time he saw the ghost of his past, like a blip in the timeline —but it wasn't. For some unspoken reason, Katsuki came by every evening afterwards. He ordered the same thing, at the same time, and sat in the same spot.
Izuku would watch him curiously as he did nothing but relax for an hour in the shop. Stunning red eyes took in the decorations, and Izuku could have sworn he saw Katsuki smirk to himself at the cutesy bunny wallpaper. The supposed gangster had scratched it, like he was making sure the quality was good and nodded in approval.
Then without being provoked, Katsuki started making small compliments about his food.
"You got better at cooking somehow, nerd," Katsuki mentioned one day after buying everything on the menu. "Glad to see you fixed that salty and sweet ratio you always messed up."
"Pink and green was a good choice," Katsuki muttered softly once while checking out. "I like the stupid little bunny cupcakes with the pink and green icing."
"Your, uh, butter pecan pie is good. That's new," Katsuki said with a flustered look another day.
The old part of Izuku keened at the praise. That side of him wanted to drag the blond to the back of the kitchen and have him taste test everything. Then maybe Katsuki could give him that awarding smile he used to adore so much.
Damn his emotions.
Izuku shoved the fluttering butterflies down to the deepest part of him, attempting to drown then in the sea of his sorrows. He can't like Katsuki again. He can't. Kacc—Katsuki was a gangster. A murderer. A terrible person—right?
Right?
But those butterflies fluttered to the surface whenever Katsuki gave him one of his signature
cocksure smirks.
Before Izuku knew it, it was close to time for that horrible payment. He was thankfully on track according to his calculations. If he was correct, he had one more week and he would make it just in time. But now the question loomed over his head: did he even want to stay in this area now? There were so many deterrents.
One being a specific blond of his past with alluring eyes. He didn't trust himself around Katsuki enough. Especially if the godforsaken blond would stroll by every day paying him compliments on his baking.
Izuku decided he should move. It broke his heart to think, he had invested everything in buying this plot of land. Then he invested even more money in fixing up the building and decorating to the way he always envisioned. But moving is what was for the best, he had no desire to be around gangsters.
The rest of the week went by without a blip, and surprisingly Katsuki disappeared.
Izuku tried to remind himself not to be disappointed about that. Why should it matter if Katsuki came and went? He should be happy that gangster wasn't anywhere near his shop.
But then everything was flipped upside down and his worst nightmare manifested into reality.
Exactly four days before payment, the group of gangsters came back. They barged in right as Izuku was prepping for tomorrow and let out a gun shot directly next to his head. Izuku shrieked and
dropped the metal bowl of batter. It went clamoring to the ground the same time the zinging bullet cut the area of skin on his cheek bone.
Izuku dropped to the ground, and anxiously touched the side of his cheek. When he pulled back, he saw a small amount of blood. His vision pulsed.
"Ding dong, sweetcakes. We've come to collect our payment," Isao announced cruelly.
All his men laughed with vicious smiles, and they locked the doors. Izuku watched in horror as they pulled the blinds shut and it was only him and these men in the tiny corner bakery.
Izuku paled. "W-What? You're not supposed to be here yet."
"We know," Isao said with a bored tone. He flicked some dirt from under his nails nonchalantly. "We decided to collect early. So, do you have it?"
"Th-That's not fair." Izuku shook his head. "You said a month. I'll have it all in four days—"
"—So that's a no," Isao interrupted. He tutted his finger sarcastically and lifted his bat on his shoulder. "First lesson in setting up shop in our territory, have payment ready early."
Izuku yelled as they started smashing all his dreams into pieces. The glass, the tarts, the mixing machines and all of the porcelain plates. They tore apart his store bit by bit, leaving nothing untouched.
Izuku launched himself at them trying to get them to stop but was held down by two men and forced to watch. They stripped his walls of the bunny wallpaper and ripped it to shreds. They broke apart his tables and took a bat to the framed portraits of all his accomplishments. Izuku's voice grew hoarse from screaming at them to stop—his heart broke into fragments as he watched everything he saved up for be taken away in mere seconds.
After a while, he closed his eyes.
He couldn't look at this anymore.
He drowned out their taunting with his own crying and it all blurred together.
Izuku didn't know how long he sat there on the floor in the shattered glass and smashed foods. At some point Isao spit on him and degraded him further, shouting insults he didn't care to repeat. When he was roughly slapped, Izuku wondered what he did to them—this was horrible.
This felt personal.
Izuku's throat was too sore from sobbing to ask for Isao to stop anymore.
He took all the punches and kicks, and he listened as more glass shattered in the background.
It was only when the night bled into day did he realize he had laid on the floor for hours. No one was here now. Just him and his broken dreams.
Izuku bitterly looked around at all of his smashed belongings.
The gangsters had no intensions of letting him pay on time. It was clear and Izuku couldn't figure out how someone could be so malicious to a person they didn't know. He lifted his hand to cup his
bruised face from where he was beaten and curled into the side of the counter. He wished the ground could swallow him whole. He repeated it like a mantra to make the hurt in his heart lessen.
The crunch of glass underneath boots grabbed Izuku's attention. Hesitantly, Izuku flinched out of fear that it was Isao and his goons again. He slowly lifted his battered face to see who had entered.
Katsuki was standing there, dressed like a normal citizen for once, and there were green roses in his hands. His hair was awkwardly slicked back—but he wasn't paying attention to Izuku.
Stunned, scarlet eyes stared around, mortified. His mouth was gaped in shock. Katsuki stepped forward meticulously and his fist crushed the stems of the roses in his palms until the thorns made him bleed.
Scarlet eyes snapped down towards Izuku and landed on the bruise on his face. Izuku had never seen Katsuki look so downright livid.
Slowly, and a little too calmly, Katsuki dropped down in front of Izuku and reached to touch his black eye. On instinct, the battered man flinched away.
"Don't look at me," Izuku hissed. Shame rattled in his chest like a hornet's nest stinging him all over with indignity. "Please don't look."
Izuku tried then to shove Katsuki away, ignoring the agonizing ache in his body. Katsuki glowered and easily caught his wrists, forcing him to still. They made eye contact and crimson eyes were wild, far deadlier than Izuku had ever witnessed in another person.
"Who." Katsuki spoke simply. "Tell me who did this to you."
"Why? So, you can hurt them?" Izuku replied bitterly. He shook his head and fruitlessly tried to grab his wrists back. "Are you going to go tell that old gangster you work for? You think he can fix this too?"
Katsuki let out a dry laugh and sneered.
"That old man died ages ago. I'm the one in charge now. Now. You fucking tell me who did this so I can go teach them some manners."