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The roof was cold with a resigned acceptance- a chilled wind blowing through her hair and hues of coral and violet reflecting in her eyes. She knew what he was thinking. She didn’t look as pretty as Yayorouzu would up here.
“It’s okay Shouto. You don’t have to return my feelings.”
“I’m sorry.” The words were not cold nor hostile. They were genuine, and she could tell. Hope sputtered in her chest- the embers of her affections glowing briefly, tentatively-
Until he dampened them.
“You know I can’t-”
“Yeah. I do.” The girl stood, making her way to the steps quickly- chin held slightly higher in an attempt at indifference. As she opened the door, she heard hurried footsteps- marked by the clicking of expensive shoes on linoleum. She passed Yayorouzu- her classmate’s face scrunched in worry, expression still somehow superior to the brightest of smiles the other student could muster. She was perfect. And Todoroki was right.
Momo looked much better than she did up on that rooftop. Even the sunset seemed to shape to her beauty.
They made her come to the wedding, those-
She nudged his shoulder.
“I’m okay, Katsuki,” she said.
She was not okay. Each minute at the blasted reception seemed to stab at her. Half-n-half and his new wife had spoken with them just a minute ago- completely oblivious to her pain. Not that they would have noticed.
They had forgotten their friendship with her a long time ago.
She had acted as normal and cheerful as possible- her laughs were bright and ringing and she greeted the newlyweds as an old companion. Every bloody word she said was adorned with a kind tone and an expression of how delighted she was that they were happy together. She was exactly that, he supposed. She had loved the groom. She wanted what was best for him. Perhaps she still loved Icy-hot, even now.
And that hurt like hell.
He didn’t show it though- not in the way she did. It wasn’t in her eyes. It wasn’t in her posture either. She wasn’t like that.
It was in her smiles- they were real. Giving lost possibilities a real smile hurt much more than simply faking it. She had told him that, once. He believes her now.
It was in the way she danced. She seemed to grip his hand tighter- even though she’d insist they were just friends when Mina started asking about it. He certainly didn’t want to be “just friends” with her. Maybe everything he had ever done with her - buying an extra tub of blueberry-basil ice cream, allowing her to use his flannel shirt as a shield against rain, helping her paint the walls of her bedroom (and maybe her whole apartment too)- was really just the manifestation of what she thought of as “just friends.” Maybe it didn’t exist to her altogether.
When the night is done and she’s emptied too many wine glasses, he walks her to her hotel, because of course, they invited her to a whole other country so she could watch her old flame tie the knot with Ponytail. She clings to his arm every step of the way- hers are more stumbles than anything. Slurs of “I’m so happy they’re happy” and “cute couples are totally them, ya know, Suki?”
He can’t even recoil at the nickname before she hiccups and spits out another line.
“I had such a nice night though…” She detaches herself from his arm, spinning around with arms spread in the middle of the parking lot. Humming, she pulls him towards her and places his hands on her waist until he can smell the wine-coated puffs from her lips. His cheeks practically adopt a merlot hue. The girl is close- closer than she’s ever been.
He just wishes it wasn’t due to intoxication and a lack of conscience. Because maybe that’s the only way she’ll ever be with him.
Vacuously.
She fiddles with the rose on his lapel absentmindedly, swaying to some unknown beat. The flower had been carefully selected by her this morning- a last-minute attempt at sophistication before the ceremony. It was absolutely ridiculous.
“Imagine me, dancing under the starlight with him…” Her voice sounds dreamy, elated at the thought of waltzing with the heterochromatic boy.
His heart feels like lead suddenly- dropping down into his stomach. He hates the way it feels. It’s not even her doing. He can’t blame her for anything- not even for running his heart in circles until it’s eroded into ash. She’s enamoured with Half-n-half, and maybe it’s his fault. He hates the way this feels. He almost hates the way she feels in his arms.
Almost. He can’t bring himself to that, and it kills him. He can’t bring himself to hate her, god-
“And his hair looked so nice,” she interrupts, dragging him into a turn abruptly, “his suit too.”
Katsuki says nothing, staring at the pavement beneath. He doesn’t want to hear this. He doesn’t want to know everything his former schoolmate did right and everything he did wrong.
“So handsome…,” she trails off, and Bakugou thinks one more line will irrevocably shatter him. Her tinkling laughter fills the air.
“And did you see that red rose? It just about matches his beauty.”
Katsuki doesn't bother looking down at his chest. IcyHot was wearing one of those blasted prickly things too. Except the groom's was-
Blue.
His heart stops.
And starts again.