Work Text:
Please.
Please.
Please.
The word replay in his head as his entire world shatters. He nearly laughs, slowly spinning out of control. Was this what going insane feels like?
They say love is friendship set on fire. He had wanted to burn to ashes in it, enamored with the man not ten feet from him. His life had changed, and he was happy.
But they also say to be careful what you wish for. He lets out a small laugh as he remembers those same words being said under completely different circumstances.
He had wanted to burn, he reminds himself. He had gotten that wish, and many others. It had felt like floating, soaring, flying. But when you fly, you must eventually land. All fires turn to ashes sooner or later. As he watches the love of his life kiss another man in a back alley, he feels like he crumbles, the last flame dying as he turns to ashes.
He makes up his mind to leave, knowing that if he stays any longer, he could get caught. He turns his back on his boyfriend, a single tear falling down his cheek. He walks down the street of the city, looking at everything but not really seeing, more tears starting to build up.
But it isn’t until he reaches his car that they fall. One moment he looks moderately composed, and the next he’s sobbing in his car, three stories underground in a parking garage. He waits until he can’t cry anymore, and then drives.
He doesn’t have a set destination, doesn’t even know where he’s going, until he starts to recognize the roads he used to drive. Ise hasn’t changed, nor has anything in it. There’re still all the events he used to attend, and everyone still knows everything and everyone else. His mother still lives there, although she no longer lives alone.
She married Jun, their neighbor, two months ago. When they call Izuku, Inko always looks so happy. He smiles at the memory, wishing he could see that right now. But he realizes that he’s not heading towards Ise, but somewhere else. It’s not until he hears the sound of waves that he recognizes the way to the hideaway, where he first confessed to Katsuki. The tears fall then, and he pulls over to the side of the road. He buries his face in his hands, trying to ignore his phone blowing up.
After nearly ten minutes, he’s reduced to dry sobs, his body still shaking. He finally reaches for his phone and sees over fifty messages from Katsuki. His hand shakes as he scrolls, and he sees all the texts he’s missed. They all follow the same gist of where are you, are you okay, and please answer me.
He gives in, and texts back six words, turning his ringer off. He steps out of the car and walks the rest of the way. His steps are wobbly, and he is nearly numb with exhaustion, but his mind is made up. He won’t ever have to see Katsuki again, not after this. He knows he wouldn’t be able to handle it.
The next day, he walks to the nearest town that isn’t Ise. He catches the nearest bus, and rides to the end of a line. His plan is to start a new life, the one he imagined for himself before his world changed, before he fell in love. He never wants to see that face again or hear that voice. The smell of caramel wafts over from a candy store, and he nearly vomits. It’s repugnant, now, and he knows it will never again mean safety.
Red eyes and a stupid smirk used to mean safety, comfort, and forever. Now, it means mistakes, betrayal, and terror.
He knows one thing. He can never go back. No amount of apologies could fix this now.
He lets out a small, crazed laugh as he hears one of Katsuki’s favorite songs being played. He mouths the words before heading off to call his mother from a pay phone, mind numb with loss.
They called him a hero/In the land of the free/But he wouldn't shake my hand, boy/He disappointed me
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The police would find the car, weeks later. Izuku had been gone without a word to anyone but Inko, disappearing with almost no trace. When they looked in the car, they found his phone. It opened with no lock to a messaging app. It had one message selected, from Izuku to Katsuki.
I saw you with him. Goodbye.
There were many, many texts from the other, but in not a single one was there an apology.