✓THE SPACE BETWEEN THE STARS|| BakuDeku Au

Chapter Thirteen: Cherish . . .

Could've Been↲
H.E.R, ft. Bryson Tiller

"It could've been right but I was wrong. Only think 'bout you when I'm alone. Part of me that cared just know it's gone . . . "

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It's funny how a simple sentence could either mark the beginning or the end of something, how it could mark the beginning or the end of someone.     

Katsuki had finally had the pleasure of knowing what that meant three years ago. For the one sentence, a person never wanted to hear had been delivered to him: I'm sorry Katsuki, Izuku's gone . . . he's dead. Yet that had not been the case, had it? For his love, his life, his reason for existing had been alive the entire time and he hadn't known about it until this very month. That's when a new sentence had been given to him—one which held the promise of something new to be rekindled and a whirlwind of secrets constructed within it. Nevertheless, it was good.

Until it wasn't.

For that flame of hope and undying love that flickered aimlessly in the thick winds of his emotions had finally been blown to ash and embers. Because his love, his life, his reason for existing would never remember who he was. Izuku would never remember the day they first shared, I love you; he'd never remember their first kiss; their first time; the day Katsuki proposed. All those cherished memories—which Katsuki relied on for the past three years—would never be recollected on Izuku's end.

That part of him would forever be missing and there was nothing Katsuki could do to stop it.

The poor boy had been clinging onto his faith, thinking that in the end, it'd all work itself out. He clung onto it like a lifeline—because in some twisted sense it had become his lifeline. It was all Katsuki had left and the heart monitor and oxygen machine was beginning to falter, dwindle, crashing. Flatlining. Fuck, Katsuki was flatlining.

He won't remember.

Aizawa placed a hand on his shoulder, whispering words that never reached the surface of Katsuki's ears.

He won't remember.

The blond wheezed a gasp as he blinked back the tears. One drop rolled over his eyes and glossed them, glazing over any emotion he so desperately wanted to release.

He won't remember.

Katsuki turned to the door—inhaling deeply and shrugging his father off as he had done many times before. His fingers locked rigidly against the cold metal of the doorknob, sending arctic pulses through his heated body. Pressing his ear lithely against the door Katsuki bit his lip while listening in on Izuku gasping and whispering to himself in amazement.

"I'll see you later, dad." Katsuki's words soaked into the base of his throat, rendering him senseless.

"Kat—"

It was too late, for Katsuki had already walked in while shutting the door pointedly behind him. Ready to face his demon on the other side—or more like an angel.

Izuku was spinning around happily in the chair, gazing at all the buttons, dials, and levers the studio room had to offer. Gently gliding his fingers over the items, being mindful not the press too hard on them. The minute the click of the door shutting resonated through the room his head shot up to look at Katsuki in somewhat of a shocked daze, only to shower him with a dimpled smile not long after.

"This is where you record your songs?" Izuku asked, striding across the room to stand a few inches away from the blond. "This room probably costs more than my life," he pointed out, gesturing to the gold trimmings along the walls.