blink,

My eyes are split into fourths,

My heart still feels what's been there before.

Youngish youth, I've been bred to sow

Yeah, I've been made for more

I'd sell my soul to help you,

But will I ever allow myself to grow?

I still hear my bones shift as I age

But what I've been then has never changed

Youngish youth better not do

What his stupid mother did before him,

Because if he needs love,

he'll take his medicine

And dopamine will fill the gap for him.

Izuku's mother had a beautiful singing voice. It was breathy, low, and like warm honey tumbling over each note.

Growing up, he often thought that it was a shame that she only stayed at home. She could've been anything she wanted to be. She could've sold millions of tickets with the voice only her shower and child knew of.

But of course, no dream like that was within arm's reach. Instead, his mother was subjected to a crumbling marriage, a painful divorce, and raising a child who looked too much like the man she despised(despite how much she did, in fact, love her son).

Izuku remembered always hearing a soft melodic hum after every horrible experience: every slur, every other woman, every sob. His mum often sang to soothe the pain the both of them shared, whether it'd been mental or physical.

When Izuku was five, he heard moans for the first time. He was in bed when his tummy bumbled for something to eat, and his small legs carried him off of his bed and into his parents' room, oversized stuffed piggy in tow.

As he approached the door, he heard grunts and gasps. He ignored the sounds without a second thought and entered, his small voice barely carrying a sound over the noise.

"Daddy?"

The two figures froze in the dark.

"What do you want, kid?" Izuku's father, his name being Hisashi, cleared his throat.

Izuku blinked, struggling to hold the stuffed piggy. "Apple juice, please."

With a sigh, Izuku's father slipped out of bed without a word, really just wanting to get back to whatever he had been doing before. He entered the kitchen and Izuku followed.

As he poured the cool apple juice into the small cup, Izuku asked a question that almost made him spill the contents of the bottle on to the counter.

"Is Mommy home already?"

She was not. She still had a few hours left on her night shift at the hospital, actually.

Hisashi sighed. "Yeah, yeah. Sure."

Izuku's eyes brightened. He'd always been a mama's boy. "Can she read me a story?"

Hisashi handed the cup to Izuku, pursing his lips. This kid was so annoying, really. "Your mother's tired. You fell asleep just fine without a story earlier."

"Oh," Izuku muttered after a sip. "Okay."

Hours passed. Izuku woke up in the early morning to the hysterical screaming of his mother as she expressed her disbelief at the audacity Hisashi had. Bringing women into their bed and shit. Both sleeping with no care in the world, like the one night stand was her natural replacement.

"What kind of sick, twisted fuck are you to even do that?" she asked on the verge of tears. "Why rub it into my face? Why do you resent the thought of me being sane?"

"You have nothing to fucking offer me, you haven't in years," he replied with a snort, as if her questions were so ridiculous it was laughable.

"Oh, so I'm useless to you just because I can't give you more children to abandon?!" She screamed, crying her eyes dry as she threw a heavy vase at his head, missing by an inch. The glass shattered noisily against the wall. "I-I'm not some tool f-for your conquests! It hurts, it hurts too much to lose another baby and you know that, but you still pressure me! Because I don't matter to you! Nothing matters to you, not even yourself."

Hisashi flinched at the sudden action, his brows furrowing deeper as his regret for marrying a repressed psychopath seeped in. That's what he thought she was anyway. "Your child is frail, and I didn't sign up for failure. My father wasn't one. I'm not one-"

"Oh, you're a failure all right," Inko hissed, "You've failed at being a human being. You're Satan himself."

"Well, excuse me for still sticking around you two despite how fucking small you make me feel! And you wanna know why I feel small, Inko?" Hisashi's voice was like thunder.

"Because being amongst you and your child has made me realize how much I've wasted myself. Giving a fuck is a waste of my time!"

Sometimes arguments would span over weeks. Then soon, nothing felt like an argument. Arguments of chaotic scales were mandatory for the day.

And one day, when Izuku was six, it was eerily silent. Hisashi was gone without a trace.

"It's fine, Izu," his mum chuckled, ruffling his hair, "We're better off without the bastard anyway."

They did, in fact, do much better. Years passed, and when Izuku was at the age of fifteen, Inko got a letter, requesting that she sign its bottom corner. Hisashi had found another woman, and he needed an official divorce before marrying himself off.

No tears were shed. There was only the clicking of a pen.

Inko's financial struggles weren't something that was beyond her neighbors, so she often got help. Their small neighborhood was a family. Izuku missed it more than anything at times like these when he was cooped up in his dorm, thinking about Katsuki at seven in the night.

A knock sounded at the door.

"Come in," Izuku mumbled, tangled in his sheets.

Katsuki walked in slowly as if he was walking on a land mine. "Hey. You weren't in class this week. And last week."

"What do you want, jackass?" Izuku eyed him.

"I got your text. What the fuck do you mean by you're 'giving me space to fuck around with Camie'?" He countered, his patience thinning. "I haven't seen that bitch in weeks."

"Oh!" Izuku perked up. "Clearly I'm an idiot who just loves misunderstanding things!" He dulled. "I saw the picture, dumbass. Why was she calling you at six in the morning anyway? Wait, wait, wait. Do you- do you think I'm that stupid?"

Katsuki's shoulders dropped. "Look, I know what it looks like, but I seriously haven't spoken to that crackhead since I started dating you. She's crafty as fuck, she must've found a way to open my phone or something to take that picture, I don't know."

Izuku's memory replayed in his head. From the perspective, it did seem like she was the one who took the picture. That could've easily been weeks ago, as Katsuki said.

But he stayed silent, waiting for Katsuki to give himself leverage.

Noticing Izuku's silence, Katsuki continued. "I-I can show you my call history if you want. I can show you my messages-"

"No thanks. Those are things you can easily delete stuff from."

Katsuki reached forward, forcefully grabbing hold of Izuku's hands. "Listen to me. Listen. There's no proof, but I'd never fucking do that to you in the first place. You're the one I like in the first place."

"Because I'm good on paper."

"No! Jesus Christ, will you shut up?" Katsuki snapped, keeping his voice low. "And this isn't about who I chose or some shit, either. This is you we're talking about, here. I like you, and I'm not that dumb to go fuck it up like that."

"Let me tell you something," Izuku said calmly, "I've seen this happen way too many times. I've heard your words over and over, copied and pasted when it's convenient. I'm not weak, so don't think I'll just accept you just like that."

Every word he uttered felt like cactus pricks scraping along the inside of his throat. Indescribably painful. His words were something he had practiced in his head on a loop for days, but he still had to fight the urge to cry.

"I don't under-"

"I'm saying that because I need to, not because I want you to fucking understand. I don't give a shit if you don't," Izuku gritted out.

"I don't really get it, but you're not really giving me a chance. You're expecting something you shouldn't be looking for in the first place. But I'm telling the fucking truth here, Izuku. I swear," Katsuki stressed, his hold on Izuku's hands tightening.

Izuku yanked his hands away, his frown deepening in thought. Truthfully, while a part of him did believe it was a misunderstanding, he just wanted comfort for the nightmares that never seized. He didn't see Ochako or Iida as often as he'd like to. In his mind, Katsuki was all he had.

With his thoughts somewhat collected, he eyed Katsuki directly, a starkly strict energy wafting from him. "Block her."

Katsuki fished out his phone at the command, doing as told with no hesitation.

Izuku's eyes wandered over the screen. "Good. Now delete her number."

And Katsuki did.

Izuku let go of the breath he didn't know he was holding, and he sat down on his bed. Katsuki joined him, inching closer. "Izu-"

"I hope you don't think I'll let you off easy like that," Izuku interrupted, his voice slightly wobbly. "I-I want space for now. I'll talk to you when I'm ready to."

Katsuki's heart tightened, but he nodded. "Okay."

"Y-you can go now," Izuku cleared his throat. Katsuki stood up and headed towards the door, muttering a 'later' before leaving.

Izuku's shoulders relaxed, and he laid down on his bed, feeling stupid. Feeling like his mother, maybe.

Katsuki isn't like him, his conscience said. Don't be so quick to make comparisons.

But what if this is a red flag?

Izuku only shut his eyes to will his thoughts away, as he hoped with all that was within him that he was making the right choice.