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Katsuki rubs his eyes angrily to keep the tears at bay. He doesn't need to cry. Plus it looks fucking stupid if he does. Deku sees it though, and of course he has to comment because he's that's just who he is.

Fuck.

"Kacchan, are you okay?" he asks, hand hovering somewhere close to Katsuki's shoulder but not quite reaching.

"I'm fine. Shut up, shitnerd!"

Deku retracts his hand quickly and takes a step back. Oh, shit. What does he do now—say sorry? Katsuki bites his lip. He can feel the tears he just wiped away threatening to return, and why the fuck does that keep happening. He has never been an easy crier. He blames it on being a little kid. That has to be the reason. He opens his mouth to respond.

"Kacchan, that's a bad word," Izuku says in a hushed voice.

"Huh?" Is that what he's worried about? His fucking vocabulary? "I can say whatever the fuck I want to say."

Izuku tries to correct him again, but Katsuki waves him off, and they go back to eating and Izuku goes back to talking about some random hero-related nonsense.

Over the next few weeks, Katsuki becomes a little more aware of his quirk and a little more acclimated to his current situation. As time passes, it starts to feel normal living in the present and not like he's living someone else's life. He still spaces out or almost references events that haven't happened too many times to count. He blames the moments where he gets distracted by images of the battles they had in high school on nightmares and ignores the overly-concerned look on Izuku's face. He doesn't deserve Izuku's concern anyway.

Over the next few weeks Katsuki gets a little more used to being friends. It becomes natural to flick Izuku on the forehead when he says something stupid or jab him in the ribs when he gets the too-concerned look on his face after Katsuki spaces out. Izuku doesn't flinch away from him. He complains but doesn't flinch. This Katsuki has never really hurt him. Katsuki has never given him a lasting scar. And Katsuki's not sure if he'll ever get used to reaching towards Izuku and having him not instinctively pull away.

Over the next few weeks, more of their classmates manifest their quirks. Izuku stays hopeful. Katsuki tries not to watch too closely. He tries not to listen whenever Izuku comments on his quirk. You're so strong, Kacchan. I hope my quirk is cool like yours. Katsuki turns away and gets a little better at keeping the tears away. He still has the emotional control of a three year old. And Izuku notices every time.

The first time Katsuki goes over to Izuku's apartment, he feels like he's so out of place it's not even funny. It's somewhere he vaguely remembers from another lifetime. It feels wrong to be welcomed into it. He blames seasonal allergies for the loud sniffle he gives as he steps over the threshold and kicks off his shoes. Izuku hands him the handkerchief that he carries around with him everywhere now. Katsuki snatches it away without a thank you, but he does express his gratitude to Izuku's mom for letting him come over.

They settle in front of the TV in the living room and watch some documentary about the rise of heroes, and Katsuki finds himself a lot more interested than he would have expected. And while he is interested in the documentary, he finds his gaze wandering to Izuku's sparkling face. Katsuki wonders how he can look so damn happy every time he hears something about heroes.

At some point, Inko brings them a plate of snacks. So they sit on the couch, sharing a bowl of popcorn like two friends, and Katsuki tries not to think about how nice it is or how easy it would still be for him to fuck up. He tries to just sit back and watch the shitty documentary and keep himself from thinking too hard, because if he thinks too hard, he'll have to borrow Deku's handkerchief again. And he doesn't want that.

The second time Katsuki goes over to Izuku's apartment, he feels only marginally less out-of-place. This time, they spend their time battling each other in the world of a video game. Katsuki doesn't mind going all out in the virtual world. Or rather, his pride wouldn't let him do anything else—even if it would probably make Deku smile if he let him win. Katsuki knows there are other ways to make him smile that don't involve losing. So he kicks Deku's ass in the video game and thoroughly gloats about it even after they put the controllers away.

Katsuki spends his days going to preschool and trying not to be a total dick to Izuku. His success varies day to day. Deku still pisses him off by accident just by talking too much about heroes, but he's still left with the faint admiration from their high school years when he looked at Deku and saw someone with a wealth of knowledge to back up his shitty control of his quirk. So, Katsuki tries not to yell or curse or talk about how cool his quirk is when Izuku doesn't have one. Since those are the three things Katsuki usually did around Deku, he sometimes finds himself quiet.

Katsuki spends his nights trying to figure out what the fuck actually happened to him. But grasping onto memories of his last lifetime is like grasping onto memories of a dream. They're slipping away from him. He's left with a clearly-defined sense of guilt where Deku is concerned and nightmares that slip into blackness as he wakes in the morning.

When he sees Deku during the day, he tries to forget the nightmares and the images of his face bloodied and bruised. He tries to forget the way his voice sounds when he was older and screaming in pain. Katsuki has varying success with that too. He figures Deku gets used to the way he spaces out or flinches away from empty air. He figures it's fine that way. Deku doesn't have to know. Deku shouldn't have to suffer that pain again.