The Story Of Forever (Todobaku)

Panic

Katsuki slammed the door behind him.

He wiggled his backpack and baseball bag off his shoulders, dropping them on the merola tile of his family's entryway. Shouto's sketchpad remained in his tight grasp, though given his dilemma, Katsuki wished he was careless enough to drop it as well.

Now that he was home, Katsuki was lost as to what to do next. He could escape to his room, but that required moving his feet that were cemented to the floor. He'd been in such a rush to get home that he didn't realize that being alone was equally dangerous as being around Shouto right now.

Katsuki's fear tasted like cotton. Mouth drying up, throat itching, and lips glued together. A harsh chill ran down his spine, contradicting the excess sweat that accumulated in his palms.

And at the center of his crippling anxiety was desperation. Desperation to understand how or why he almost did the unthinkable. He questioned everything, but mostly himself. If he dug deep enough, he might uncover a reality he never expected to cross his path.

Katsuki wasn't ready for that.

"Hey Kat."

Katsuki jumped as Mitsuki popped under the archway that led into the living room. She arched a brow as she surveyed her son leaning against the front door. It hadn't been long since they last spoke (Mitsuki and Masaru were at the game and offered their praises to Katsuki when it ended), yet Katsuki felt like he aged ten years in the last hour.

"We weren't expecting you until later," she said. "You didn't want to celebrate with your friends?"

Katsuki still had cottonmouth, so he gave a small shake of the head.

"Well, I'm about to prepare some curry. Do you want me to make you a bowl?"

Katsuki prayed the panic gliding through his veins hadn't spread to his face. He swallowed hard, blinking repeatedly to mask the vulnerability in his eyes.

"Maybe later," he muttered. "I need to shower."

Mitsuki's face softened. "Okay. I'll leave leftovers in the fridge that you can grab when you're hungry."

"Thank you."

Legs no longer numb, Katsuki hurried out of his mother's sight and hauled up the staircase, leaping two steps at a time. As the floorboards creaked underneath his scattered strides, a voice called out from his parents' bedroom. Masaru. Katsuki uttered a quick hello but carried along. If his father noticed his distress, he'd ask questions. And Katsuki didn't have answers for any question right now, not even the ones he had for himself.

Safe behind his bedroom door, Katsuki set his hat and Shouto's sketchpad on his desk. He then plopped down on the edge of his mattress, exhaling far more carbon dioxide than his lungs could replace with oxygen. Katsuki was dizzy, tired, and above all, confused.

Things were going so well. He and Shouto acted how they normally did. They encouraged one another. Poked fun at each other. Laughed until their sides hurt because being in the other's company was too much fun to do anything else.

So why did Katsuki have to ruin it?

Why did he almost...kiss Shouto?

Their faces were so close. Katsuki wouldn't have had to move much. Just a slight lean forward and their lips would've met. And had Katsuki not pulled away at that moment, he would've gone through with it.

But that would've been disastrous. One, even the closest friendships had boundaries. Kissing definitely qualified as crossing the line. And two, kissing was reserved for people who had feelings for each other. Katsuki didn't like Shouto like that.