To Love, To Lose, To Leave

Chapter Three

Two Days Ago (Saturday)

Katsuki lets out a relieved huff of air as he drops his pencil on top of his notebook. Why the hell did Katsuki need to learn calculus, anyway? He's not gonna need that shit for when he becomes a pro hero—he fought in two damn wars without it, he's pretty fucking sure that he'd be fine without it. He reaches for the stress ball that sits right by his lamp, squeezing it and tossing it back and forth between each of his hands.

He does get it, to an extent—the schoolwork and training are part of the school's attempt to give their minds something else to focus on other than, y'know, being child soldiers in a war. Twice.

Still doesn't mean Katsuki isn't gonna complain about having to do math homework on a weekend. Turns out that briefly dying doesn't do any fucking favors for your brain. Hound Dog called it burnout, but whatever.

A bit of math won't kill him.

Suddenly, Katsuki's ringtone pierces through the silence. He reaches for his phone, heart fluttering in his chest at the sight of the contact name—💚My Izuku💚.

Izuku.

Katsuki doesn't think the way his heart seems to jump at the mere thought of Izuku will ever go away, even after all this time.

Izuku, the boy who's stubbornly stuck by Katsuki's side, even when he pushed him away; who had forgiven Katsuki long before he deserved that forgiveness; who thinks of Katsuki when he imagines victory.

Izuku, who for the last ten and a half months, has been his boyfriend.

The love of his life.

Katsuki accepts the call and places it on speaker, leaning back in his chair as he tosses the ball up in the air and catches it with one hand.

"Hey, Izu. How're ya doin'?"

"Hey, Kacchan." Izuku's voice fills Katsuki's chest with a soothing warmth, and he eagerly sinks into the sensation. "I'm doing good."

"How's Auntie doing? Last time you visited her you told me she was feeling a bit sick." Katsuki throws the ball into the air with his left hand, and catches it with his right.

Left, right. Left, right.

"Um, yeah, yes, Mom's good, her cold's gone," Izuku replies, and he lets out some sort of sigh. "Listen, Kacchan, I—"

"Oh, hang on, before I forget," Katsuki interrupts, continuing to toss and catch the ball as he looks at the open tab on his computer screen.

Left, right. Left, right.

"This new café opened up downtown. Ma said that their katsudon's really damn good—"

"Kacchan, this isn't working. I want to break up."

Wait, what?

Katsuki's heart drops to his feet, hands freezing in place. The ball falls to the ground with an unceremonious thud.

Katsuki doesn't pick it up. He's too busy staring down his phone, his ears ringing as the silence drags into the air.

Izuku...he—

"You're fucking joking, right?" Katsuki asks, in incredulous disbelief.

There's no way. We haven't had a fight in months. We've been fine, everything's been fucking fine—

The silence thickens in the air, a pressing weight against his chest, his stomach twisting and wringing itself into dreading knots.

"...right?" Katsuki's voice is lower, smaller.