Chapter Text
The wind was still as Izuku stood at the altar, the weight of the moment suffocating him.
His hands trembled as he adjusted his tie, his green eyes darting between the expectant faces of friends and family in the crowd.
He glanced toward the grand double doors of the venue, where Ochako was set to walk in any moment.
This should have been the happiest day of his life. Instead, it felt like a funeral.
Across the room, Katsuki leaned against the wall, sharp crimson eyes fixed on the scene.
His expression was unreadable, but his heart twisted painfully as he watched the man he loved preparing to marry someone else.
Izuku had been so radiant growing up, so full of hope, even in the face of impossible odds.
Katsuki had always been drawn to that light, though he’d been too much of a coward to reach for it.
Now, he was forced to swallow down the bitter truth—Izuku wasn’t his. He never would be.
But Katsuki was here anyway, like some kind of masochist, watching the love of his life bind himself to someone else.
He had someone on his arm—a date who was sweet, kind, and everything Katsuki should want.
But when Izuku glanced at him from the altar, their eyes locking for a brief second, Katsuki felt like his chest was caving in.
Izuku’s gaze lingered too long, and the intensity of it made Katsuki shift uncomfortably.
Did he see the regret in Izuku’s eyes? The hesitation? Or was Katsuki just projecting his own heartbreak onto him?
Then the music started.
Ochako had always imagined her wedding day would be magical, but as she stepped through the doors in her flowing white dress, all she felt was dread.
Her feet moved mechanically, carrying her closer to Izuku, closer to a life that didn’t feel like hers.
When their eyes met, she felt the same familiar pang of guilt.
They’d built a relationship out of mutual admiration and shared trauma, mistaking it for love.
But Ochako knew, deep down, that her heart belonged to someone else—someone who wasn’t even alive to see this day.
As she walked down the aisle, flashes of Himiko’s smile filled her mind, her playful voice echoing in Ochako’s ears.
She had tried to bury those feelings, telling herself they were wrong, that Toga’s death had severed their connection.
But it wasn’t true. Toga was still with her, in every stolen thought and unspoken word.
When she reached Izuku, he offered her a weak smile. It was then she knew—he wasn’t any more certain about this than she was.
The ceremony began, but neither Izuku nor Ochako could focus on the officiant’s words.
The room seemed to close in on them, the weight of their choices pressing down like a storm cloud.
“Do you, Midoriya Izuku, take Uraraka Ochako to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
Izuku hesitated. His eyes flickered to Katsuki, who was sitting rigid in his seat, his jaw clenched so tightly it looked like it might snap.
A lifetime of memories with Katsuki surged to the forefront of Izuku’s mind—every fight, every laugh, every moment where Katsuki had been by his side.
He loved him.
He’d always loved him.
But Katsuki had never said anything, never given him a sign.
And so, Izuku had convinced himself to move on, to do the “right thing” by proposing to Ochako.
But standing here now, he felt sick. He couldn’t do this.
Before Izuku could speak, Ochako turned to him, her voice steady but pained.
“Izuku,” she said, “I can’t do this.”
The room fell silent.
Ochako stepped back, clutching her bouquet tightly as she blinked back tears. “I’ve been lying to myself, to you, to everyone.
I thought if I just kept moving forward, I could convince myself that this was right. But it’s not. I’m still in love with someone else. And I think you are, too.”
Izuku’s breath hitched.
He wanted to deny it, to reassure her, but he couldn’t. She was right.
Ochako gave him a sad smile. “You don’t have to marry me, Izuku. You shouldn’t.”
The guests murmured in shock as Ochako stepped aside, her hands trembling but her heart feeling lighter than it had in years.
Izuku stood frozen at the altar, his mind racing. Then, as if pulled by an invisible force, his gaze found Katsuki again.
Katsuki stared back, his expression unreadable.
His date touched his arm, but Katsuki barely noticed. Izuku’s feet moved before he could think, carrying him down the aisle, toward the only person who had ever made him feel whole.
“Kacchan,” Izuku said, his voice breaking as he reached him. “I can’t keep this inside anymore. I love you.”
Katsuki’s eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, Izuku thought he saw something soften.
But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by a cold, stony mask.
“Are you serious right now, Deku?” Katsuki hissed, his voice low and venomous.
“You’re doing this here? In front of everyone?”
“I had to,” Izuku pleaded. “I couldn’t let you leave without telling you the truth.
I’ve loved you for so long, Kacchan. I just… I didn’t know how to say it. And now I—”
“Shut up.”
The words hit like a slap.
Katsuki stood, towering over Izuku as his crimson eyes burned with something Izuku couldn’t name.
“You think you can just say that and everything’s gonna be fine?”
Katsuki snarled. “You don’t get to do this now. Not after everything.”
“Kacchan, I—”
“Save it,” Katsuki spat, his voice cracking despite his best efforts. “You’re only saying this because she left you. Because you’re scared of being alone.”
“No!” Izuku’s voice was desperate, his hands shaking as he reached out.
“That’s not it! I’ve always loved you! I just… I thought you didn’t feel the same, and now I—”
Katsuki stepped back, avoiding Izuku’s outstretched hands like they were poison.
“Don’t,” he said, his tone quieter now but laced with pain. “Don’t you dare put this on me. You made your choice, Deku. And it wasn’t me.”
Izuku’s chest felt like it was caving in. “Kacchan, please—”
Katsuki turned sharply, grabbing his date’s hand. His voice was cold as he said, “I’m done with this.”
And then he walked away.
Izuku stood frozen in the center of the aisle, his heart shattered into pieces as he watched Katsuki disappear through the doors.
The whispers around him grew louder, but he couldn’t hear them.
All he could hear was the sound of his own heartbeat, pounding against his ribcage like it was trying to escape.
He felt Ochako’s hand on his arm, her touch soft but firm. “Izuku,” she said gently. “It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”
But Izuku couldn’t respond. His gaze remained fixed on the doors Katsuki had walked through, his vision blurred with tears.
He had lost him. He had always been losing him. And now, there was no getting him back.