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"Kacchan, what's wrong?"
Izuku looked into Katsuki's eyes with a look of genuine concern. The same bright eyes that sparkled at him since they were kids. There had been a time when Katsuki had hoped those eyes wanted something more from him, but It was admiration. Just admiration.
When Katsuki had reached for Izuku's hand, Izuku took it. Naturally, as if this was a given for the two. But Katsuki didn't say anything for awhile, causing Izuku to worry.
This boy knew Katsuki inside and out, to the point that it made him feel uncomfortable—vulnerable. There was no escaping Izuku. Just one look at him, and Izuku would know if something was unusual.
But there was one thing that Izuku didn't know. Still doesn't know. After how many years now? He'd lost count. Maybe he didn't want to count anymore.
"It's nothing new," Katsuki managed to say, although his voice came out weaker than he'd hoped.
"If you say so..." Izuku begrudgingly stopped questiong him about the root of the issue. He squeezed Katsuki's hands a little more, "You know you can tell me anything, right?"
And Katsuki's heart sank. As if that's true. He scoffed. "You're right," he lied.
Maybe it was time to let go.
Katsuki pulled his hands away from Izuku's.
But he didn't start walking away. It seemed like a small part of him was hoping that Izuku would reach for his hand again. That Izuku wanted to be with him a little longer.
But it was Katsuki who always reached out for Izuku's hand, after all. Maybe this was to repent for the time long ago when he failed to take his hand. If he had, would everything have been different? If he'd never pushed Izuku away all those years, would Izuku have loved him? Is it because of all those nasty tangled up emotions that Izuku couldn't ever imagine that Katsuki could love him like this. That Katsuki wanted to stay by Izuku's side forever, not just as partners, but as each other's number ones. That Katsuki couldn't imagine a life without Izuku.
But maybe it's time to imagine it.
After all, it wasnt Katsuki who could make Izuku smile his brightest anymore.
Izuku was the first to take a step back, after the two stood with nothing but silence between them for a few moments longer.
"Deku!" Ochako called out.
"Oh, Kacchan, I gotta go!" Izuku apologetically spoke as he abruptly began to walk away.
"Yeah." Katsuki mumbled, moving his hands into his pockets. Somehow it felt colder than when they were pressed between Izuku's palms despite the December breeze.
He watched the two from a distance as they chatted about their plans for the day, fingers interwined. The way Izuku's thumb caressed the top of Ochako's hand looked much gentler than when he had held Katsuki's hand. When looking at Ochako, his eyes shined brighter than when he had looked at Katsuki. His shy smile was accompanied by his cute, reddening ears. Katsuki could never make Izuku look like that, no matter how much he wanted to.
You'd better be happy.
That's all Katsuki could think. If not, Katsuki didn't know if he could forgive Izuku, or himself, for everything they—he, Katsuki—lost.