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Part 1
If someone were to ask Katsuki, when did he know it was over, he would have been able to give an exact time and date; he would have been able to tell what he had been wearing, what he had been holding in his hands, what he had been intending to do just then.
He would have been able to tell the exact thoughts going through his head in that moment; how instead of anger there was drained resignation; instead of sorrow there was just numbness; instead of bitterness, a dull acceptance.
Standing there in the genkan of their shared apartment, bags of groceries in hand, the wet umbrella dripping water on the floor, shoes still on, he knew.
He knew he would always come after someone else; always behind someone else; never the most precious, most important person to the one person it mattered the most.
Always second best.
He had heard people say the last straw was almost always something small, something seemingly insignificant.
To him it was a bag of recycling, forgotten on the floor by the door; he'd asked Izuku over and over to take it out when he left. Had set up reminders, left a note - still attached to the wall by the door -, had even brought the bag out, sorted and ready to go. All his partner would have needed to do, was take it out to the collection area that morning.
How many times this exact scenario had played out? Katsuki couldn't remember. How many times had something similiar happened? How many times had Izuku forgotten? Or been too busy?
He was always too busy. Always saving the world.
Katsuki sits down on the edge of the genkan and removes his shoes; he's moving on autopilot, something has shifted inside him, something feels detached - broken.
It's over.
He puts his shoes on their place on the small shelf, hangs his coat up and takes the umbrella to the bathroom so it won't get the floor wet; none of this really registeres to him.
The groceries go to the fridge - later he can't even remeber what he bought.
I can't do this anymore.
Katsuki stands in the middle of their apartment - it's neat and organised because Katsuki likes to keep it so - and it suddenly doesn't feel like home anymore. It's full of things he loves - loved. Memories that all feel hollow now. Nothing feels like his.
Everything is theirs, but there is no them anymore.
Has there ever really been?
There's a note on the fridge door that he just now notices.
Mom called, taking her out to eat.
Don't wait up.
Izuku
Of course it's her, Katsuki thinks and feels a spark of bitterness, but it drowns out under the nothingness that has taken ahold of him.
I won't wait up.
Something snaps; he finds two suitcases in the closet, the ones he bought for their holiday last year that they never actually went to - there had been an emergency; there was always an emergency.
There's not a lot he wants to take, the most important things only, things he can't live without, some clothes, a little cash he has saved up. He has a bank account with a big enough a check deposited into it monthly thanks to his position in the top fifty, but cash is cash.
He leaves the ring - thank goodness they hadn't even set a date yet -, and the keys but doesn't bother with a note; Katsuki can't find words right now, can only think in shades of dull, muted gray.
It's over.
He calls a taxi, hauls the suitcases and a couple of bags he has with him downstairs to the lobby of their - not their, just Izuku's now - ridiculously expensive apartment building and refuses to look out of the window when the taxi drives into the rainy Tokyo night.
He doesn't cry, not when he checks into a hotel and the overly polite and annoyingly friendly staff usher him into his room on the higher floors; not even when the door finally closes after him, not when he sits down on the bed - it's too soft. Too white. Too big.
He doesn't cry, doesn't have the energy for it. Instead he goes through the motions of his usual night time routine; a shower, then moisturisers and lotions; teeth brushed and flossed; a pyjama he remembers buying just last week. There's no emotional attachement to it yet, so all he can think when he puts it on is that it feels pleasant against his skin, soft and smooth.
He hasn't eaten yet, but his appetite has left him along with the ability to feel anything at all. He'll eat in the morning, he decides as he climbs into bed.
There's an odd sense of relief when he turns his phone on silent; no messages have come in the short time he's been in the hotel and he is glad he doesn't have to deal with anyone or anything right now.
When Katsuki turns the lights off all he feels is tired; the eighteen hour shift has him exhausted and sleep claims him in an instant.
~
There's ten missed calls and fifty eight messages on his phone when Katsuki wakes up the next morning; he ignores them all and goes down to breakfast instead.
Salmon and rice, a bowl of miso soup with enoki mushrooms and a neatly rolled and cut tamagoyaki on the side; a cup of strong green tea and a paper thin wafer biscuit dipped in chocolate. It's something he might have made for breakfast himself back -
Katsuki almost breaks the cup slamming it down on the table.
No.
His room has not been touched while he's been to breakfast; he left a no room service sign on his door. The bed is still messy, and his suitcase is open on the floor where he left it the previous night.
There's now three more missed calls and twelwe more messages.
Katsuki takes a shower again just because he can, ponders on what to wear wrapped in the fluffy white bathrobe the hotel provides for all their guests.
The phone rigns but he ignores it; settles for a casual jeans and button up shirt combo, all black; it feels appropriate.
The phone pings once, then twice, then for a third time in less than a minute.
Finally Katsuki picks it up; the latest messages are from his mother. He ignores them - he can't deal with the slew of aggression he knows they contain - scrolls through the messages; most are from his mother, a few of the first ones from Izuku.
Where are you?
Hello?
What did I do?
Katsuki feels nothing staring at them; it's not the first time he's spend the night in a hotel after a fight. Their relationship had been tumultuous from the beginning, almost more time spend apart than actually together - whose fault it was Katsuki can't tell, propably both of them - on again, off again, rinse and repeat, ad nauseam.
No, it's not the first time, but it feels like the last time.
Fine. I have a full shift, we'll talk later.
No, they won't. Katsuki knows it with such certainty it steals the breath from his lungs; his eyes burn, his throat turns tight.
He deletes the message, deletes all of the messages and blocks both his mother and Izuku. He can't - not now.
He has no idea what to do and for a moment he just sits on the bed, phone in hand and stares at the wall; there are thin off-white stripes on the wallpaper. He's gets to forty eight and then the phone pings again.
It's his father's number but the words are his mother's; Katsuki blocks that number too; blocks every single number he can think of where his mother might try to contact him from.
Their relationship has never been good, never been that of mother and child - not even when he was a child. Katsuki doesn't want to deal with her right now. Would prefer to never engage with her again actually.
The phone rings; he knows the name - isn't surprised the news have made it to them; nothing gets past his chosen lawyer these days. That's one of the reasons he hired them.
"What?" Katsuki barely recognises his own voice.
"What's happened?" Never one to beat around the bush the alpha on the other end asks, voice gruff and deep.
Katsuki can't find the words for a moment; the world has ended? It suddenly feels like it has and he has to bite back the tears that burn in his eyes again; something has died.
He is all alone. For the first time in his life, he's all alone. But he can't go back, won't go back. Not now. Not ever.
"It's over." He manages through his own rising hysteria; what the hell is wrong with him? He's Dynamight, number 38 in Japan, the highest ranking omega Pro Hero in the country's history, not some helpless crybaby.
"What happened?" The question is repeated, marginally softer this time.
"Nothing." Everything.
"What do you need?" Pragmatic and business-like; Katsuki can do that too.
He pulls a few deep breaths and tries to concentrate; what does he need?
"Cancel the negotiations." He starts; once the words begin to roll he can't stop them. "I don't want a new contract. I'll be looking for a different agency from now on."
There's a noticeable pause - and Katsuki only notices because he knows his lawyer pretty well by now - before the answer comes.
"Any preferences?" The alpha asks; voice even. Katsuki knows they're the poster child for your stereotypical alpha; protective to a fault, so he's glad they're not in the same room now. The pheromones must be visible by now.
Katsuki thinks for a moment before answering no, he doesn't have any preferences. As long as he gets to leave the agency he's worked with - the agency he's worked for the past few years. He can't stay, not anymore.
It's over.
By the time the call ends there's a plan in place. Katsuki's lawyer halts the negotiations to renew his stay at Might Tower. His current contract ends in twelwe days, he has two weeks worth of vacation days unused; Katsuki doesn't need to go back to work at all.
It all feels surreal, like he's dreaming; it seems too easy.
The alpha promises to call when they know anything. Then it's just Katsuki alone with his thoughts. He hates it. Hates feeling like he's two breaths away from shaking apart, seconds away from crumbling to the floor.
There's a ping on his phone.
Hey, what's up? Midoriya called and said you guys had a fight or something. If you wanna hang out or talk just let me know.
Eijirou is always the first to reach out to him; it would be almost annoying if it weren't so endearing. The dead remains of his highschool crush attempt to reignite after so many years, but Katsuki stomps on them mercilessly; Eijirou had always had eyes for Mina and Mina alone. Getting his hopes up will only hurt him more - Katsuki's learned his lesson; he knows better now to even allow himself to think about it.
It annoys him just a little bit that Izuku would call Eijirou though, especially given how much he'd protested of them hanging out normally; Izuku wasn't a jealous type of alpha, but he was just a little bit possessive and he'd always thought that if there was another alpha that Katsuki would leave him in a heartbeat it would be Eijirou.
It's not true; not anymore.
I'm fine.
He's not, not really, but it's all he's willing to give right now.
Talk to you later?
He adds because he doesn't want to sound rude; he's come a long way from the days when he'd call people extras or give them crude nicknames.
Six years - well five years, ten months, two weeks and three days, but who's counting?
Katsuki finds himself staring at the ceiling spread-eagle on the bed; has it really been that long?
Ok :)
Eijirou is impossible to insult or bring down, it's one of his most annoying qualities.
If you need anything, let me know.
And then a moment later...
Mina's planning to make nabe tonight if you wanna come?
Katsuki doesn't, he really, really doesn't. He sends what he hopes is a polite way of declining and proceeds to stare at the ceiling.
What do you need? The question his lawyer had asked floats around the room.
What does he need?
He can't stay in a hotel room forever he knows that much. An apartment - Katsuki sits up so fast he feels a little dizzy. His laptop is still in the bag and he digs it out.
Pragmatic and business-like.
~
Two days later Katsuki checks out of the hotel; by then all hell has broken loose and every news outlet in the country is reporting his upcoming departure from the Might Tower. All his friends are sending him messages, asking what's going on. His lawyer has informed him his mother is harrasing their office nonstop, same with Izuku; he has them both blocked still and intents to keep it so.
He'll deal with them eventually, but right now he doesn't have the energy.
He's rented a small apartment - one cozy little bedroom, spacious enough a kitchen and a tiny livingroom plus a bathroom where he doesn't have to share the minimal counter space with anyone. It's a nice place and he likes it; it doesn't yet feel like a home, but he'll get there.
He's got a good twenty offers already, for a new agency but he hasn't so much as spared a look. He's too busy decorating.
He must have lost his mind in the past how many days has it been? Three?
Really? Just three?
Tokyo is a nice place to live in if you can afford it. Katsuki can, easily, and has full intention of staying in the city, even if it means running occasionally into his now ex - and that's a thought that sends him reeling - partner.
Ex.
As in former. Something he no longer has. Something he's lost.
It doesn't feel like a loss, like the way he expected it to feel. Like he'd always thought it would. Katsuki had spend his formative years - and the years and years and years that followed - striving for perfection; part of him still is, propably always will. Giving up something was always labeled as losing. He had been brought up thinking losing was akin to death; his mother relentlessly driving it into his head that nothing short of perfection would be tolerated. He had to be the best, there was no other option.
Nothing had ever been enough though; nothing ever would be. Having been born an omega - the gravest of all sins he could have commited - had meant he would never be enough.
He sometimes wonders how different it would have been if he'd been born an alpha - or a beta like his parents. Would he have been accepted then? His mother had made it clear that the only redeeming quality he had was his powerful quirk and wasting that was not an option. His father - was a doormat that let his wife do whatever she wanted. He blended into her shadow; most of the time people forgot he was there at all.
It's strange how he can see it all now. He feels like he's having an out-of-body experience and looking at his own life from the outside. It's all so clear and he wonders how he never saw it before? Has he been blind his whole life?
Propably.
Katsuki has just finished hanging up pretty white curtains - he's chosen them as a giant fuck you to the little voice inside his head that sounded like his mother and scoffed at the idea of pretty; you're a hero, you don't need pretty - when his phone starts making noise. Notifications pour in from several social media apps; Katsuki sees his own name; sees Izuku's name and knows.
~
Katsuki deletes all but one social media profile he has; virtually all of them had been created during his stay at Might Tower and he wants to cut that part off completely. Never mind the fact that almost all of them were operated by the HR and he had very little control over any of them.
The one he keeps is the one he created still back in highschool, full of old memories and dumb shit that the HR department had tried for years to get him to delete. Now he's immensely glad he never listened to them.
It feels like all of Japan notices it. His old profile gains half a million followers in less than a week and keeps on growing after that; the comments - questioning what the fuck is going on - flow in but he doesn't bother with them. Instead he starts posting random stuff. Pictures of the cats he sees on his way to the corner store; his meals; his houseplants; the sky at dusk, pretty pink and orange. It amuses him to follow the confusion, the chaos his silly little photos are causing.
He needs a hobby, he realises after a week of wreaking havoc online.
He's bored, is what he is.
And just a little bit lonely.
Katsuki doesn't regret leaving, but a part of him is floundering - a completely alien feeling for him - with being alone. He's gone from his parent's house to living in the dorms to living with Izuku immediately after graduating. Not once has he lived alone. It's both thrilling and absolutely terrifying.
Occasionally it's also really confusing; Katsuki has had to figure how much just one person eats - he realised with a start he had never, never cooked just for himself, there'd always been someone else too - or how lonely the nights get when there is no one there or even the prospect of anyone coming home to him. He hadn't realised just how much time he had spend simply waiting for Izuku.
Or cleaning after him; his home is spottles now, everything organised and neatly arranged all the time. He has to do surprisingly little cleaning now when it's just him.
He eventually takes a liking to gardening; it starts with herbs - because he does like to cook, even if it's just for himself - and spreads rapidly to houseplants. Before he knows it Katsuki is spending a criminal amount of time online looking at different plants and how to care for them; the garden center closest to where he lives becomes his favourite place to go and he visits it almost daily for two weeks straight. There's only so much window space his apartment has, but all of it becomes dedicated to his little plants.
His lawyer calls a few times with new offers form different agencies but none of them interest him; Katsuki doesn't know what he's looking for, can't describe the feeling of wanting something, anything, different.
~
He makes the mistake of not blocking certain content on the one social media app he still has and now he has to suffer through seeing the viral posts about Izuku partying like his life depends on it.
It's odd seeing it again. Katsuki feels sad and angry and annoyed, but at the same time he's relieved; it's a familiar pattern they had established during their relationship, but this time he knows it will end different. They fight, break up, Katsuki - always Katsuki - would go spend time with his parents or his friends or whoever he could find to use as an excuse for a few days, while Izuku would hit the dancefloor.
It would always go viral; Japan's number one partying with his fans, his friends, anyone who happened to be there.
Predictably Katsuki who did not like being excluded or left behind would storm back home irritated and they would fight some more, somehow eventually make up, get back together and then all would be alright.
Untill the next time.
Katsuki can see at least three of their old classmates there in the pictures and videos; Uraraka and Todoroki and possibly Iida based on the body size; a more modest setting this time, and by the looks of it not a club but a karaoke bar.
But, it doesn't matter; the general public has been conditioned to know what's going on.
It's actually extremely annoying to be constantly tagged in the posts and it's hours before Katsuki gets all the keywords and tags blocked. He doesn't bother commenting. Instead he closes the app and goes to make dinner.
It's over.
He's not going back.
~
It continues so for a week, during which Katsuki resolutely pretends he can't see the pictures and videos of Izuku having fun and dancing with random omega's or partying with his friends. He ignores the comments and the questions; instead he continues to post about his food and plants and the stray cats he's taken to feeding.
He gets a lot of messages from his friends who, after a couple of weeks of dancing around the topic careful to never actually ask anything, are all now expressing their concerns openly.
Katsuki keeps insisting he's fine and no, he doesn't want to talk about it.
Are you guys broken up? Like for real?
It's Eijirou who finally asks the question. Katsuki stares at the text for a while, not knowing how to answere it.
Obviously it's yes, but how does he put that in words that make sense?
Eventually he just simply types yes and sends it as is.
What happened?
Katsuki can see the frown, the concern, the puppy dog eyes even if they're in two separate cities, miles and miles apart.
He doesn't know what to say; it wasn't one massive thing, not even a few big things; it was more like a death by a thousand paper cuts. Izuku putting his hero work first, Katsuki second. Izuku not putting in the effort like Katsuki was; forgetting to do things like taking out the recycling time and time and time again; expecting Katsuki to just do it all; cook and clean and organise and pick up after him and -
Izuku listening to his mother over him - always, always her first; a true momma's boy if there ever was one. In her eyes Izuku could do no wrong; in her eyes Katsuki didn't deserve him. She knew what Katsuki had done when they were kids, knew of the bullying and wasn't capable of forgiving him, not even when Izuku had insisted it was all water under the bridge. Izuku - he sided with her more often than not simply because she was his mother and Katsuki found himself driven into a corner over and over again; telling himself just agree with her, keep the peace, let her have her way this once, maybe she's feeling like she's losing her baby boy, she's just looking after her only child...
It was endless; it was too much.
I had enough.
The text doesn't adequately express his feelings but it's the best he can do.
Okay
Eijirou understands; many times it was his and Mina's place Katsuki found himself hiding in - yes, hiding, he can see it now for what it was - after a fight. Eijirou has seen him at his worst, knows how it affected him, had on multiple occasions tried to talk him from going back.
He gets it.
You good?
Yeah
Okay, let me know if you need anything.
There's a little flexing arm emoji and a thumbs up one after the text; Katsuki smiles a little at them.
~
Katsuki takes his time choosing an agency; a whole month and a half after he's moved into the new apartment he finally picks an offer he likes.
He picks it not because it offers the most money, or the best perks or anything like that. No, he picks it because it's familiar, because he likes it; he picks Best Jeanist.
He's missed his old mentor, the years after graduation were spend working tirelessly towards the goal of best - Katsuki isn't even entirely sure what best is anymore - so much so that he's lost a lot of people on the way. Best Jeanist is one of those people, the closest to a real parental figure he has ever had.
The idea of working with him again, after all these years sounds - and feels - good, so Katsuki goes and chooses him purely based on that.
He's spend years gritting his teeth, doing things despite his instincts screaming at him not to just to prove that he can; he doesn't know who he's tried to prove things to, or exactly what he's been trying to prove, all he knows it has made him miserable and from now on he vows to listen to his instincts more.
The media, once again, goes nuts when it comes out; Katsuki refuses to make an official announcement like is customary, but rather his name is just put on Genius Agency's web site where an eagle eyed reporter spots it not ten minutes after it's posted. Katsuki is almost impressed at the speed.
He starts on a rainy Monday; Best Jeanist - or Tsunagu as he's insisting on being called - gives him a desk, a computer and list a mile long to go through; he's aware that Katsuki is an experienced hero at this point but that doesn't mean the alpha is going to go easy on him. No, Katsuki gets to earn his spot with hard work and the omega couldn't be happier with that. He doesn't like special treatment. If he has to earn the right to go on patrols, he will. If he has to prove he's a good addition to the agency, he will. If he has to make friends there... he'll try, okay? He'll try, but he can't promise anything. He knows he's something of an acquired taste.
Tsunagu, proving he's actually paid attention to Katsuki in the past few months, gifts him a small chili pepper sappling to go with his ever growing collection. It's a nice welcome gift; Katsuki brings a whole box of doughnuts as a thanks a couple of days later and feels like he's finally somewhere he belongs.
~
The videos and pictures of Izuku slowly stop; he's either starting to realize they are not having the desired effect or has grown tired of the constant partying. Either way Katsuki couldn't care less.
His mother still sends annoying messages, both to his lawyer - who is happily collecting them as evidence should Katsuki ever want to press for a restraining order - as well as the agency, but now to a lesser degree. Apparently even she is running out of steam.
Thank fuck.
The media is still speculating on what the hell has happened; Katsuki hasn't given any official statement - doesn't plan on doing so, ever - and neither has Izuku. Part of the omega feels a little bad for just ghosting him like that, but at the same time he feels like he doesn't owe anything to anyone. He's sure that by now the alpha would have realized it's over, really over; their shared history should tell him that this was inevitable.
They were never meant for do or die.
He can see it clearly now that time and distance have given him an unobstructed vision; despite being together for almost six years they never bonded, their heat and rut cycles never synced; they decided to get engaged, even if it was more of a beta custom, just to prove a point. Just to prove they were good together when they obviously weren't. It should have been obvious, should have been clear as day they were not compatible.
It becomes even more obvious as Katsuki spends his first heat after the breakup alone; he's unbearably horny for the entire time, but doesn't even once concider calling Izuku, doesn't spare him a though; he has a toy and it's more than good enough.
After, he wonders what it was that kept them together so long; sheer stubborness?
End of part 1