Limerence
(Sunset)

A heavy knock sounds at the front door, echoing through the relatively quiet apartment.

"Shit," Katsuki curses. He's washing the dishes from that morning, and he's up to the elbows in warm, soapy water. He looks between the kitchen sink and the door. "Ochako, could you get that? It's Eijirou. He's fuckin' early!"

Ochako is already standing up from the couch, where she was reading a book he'd picked up for her a few days ago. "I've got it," she says. "Don't be too upset with him, Katsuki, he's just excited to see you!"

"Dunno why," Katsuki grunts. "I'm not that exciting."

Ochako rolls her eyes at him. "Don't I know it," she teases him in that voice of hers. His chest constricts around his heart, and it takes him a moment to center himself.

Right. Dishes.

"Kirishima!"

"Uraraka!" Eijirou's voice drifts into the apartment. "Dude, it's been far too long!"

"Oh gosh, I know. Come in, come in!"

The door closes, and suddenly Eijirou is there for the first time in months. His hair is tied back in a low bun, strands of crimson hair falling loose around his face. His roots are just starting to show, and Katsuki knows it won't be long before he dyes it again.

It's … strange. He used to live with this man – used to share a wall with him, even – and yet this is only the second time he's been to the apartment.

Their time at UA already seems so far away.

"Katsuki, my man! It's good to see you!"

Katsuki grunts. "Yeah, yeah. I'll be done here in a minute, and then we can go."

"That's fine by me," Eijirou says, pulling Ochako close and ruffling her hair. She laughs. "Gives me time to catch up with Uraraka here."

Katsuki ducks his head to hide a smile. There's something about seeing his best friend and the girl he – well, his girlfriend interact the way they do. He shakes his head as he silently contemplates how he and his perpetual bad attitude had managed to attract the two most sunshine-y people in Class A.

All told, they've done him a world of good.

"Yo, so what happened with that bus debacle?" Eijirou asks Ochako as they take a seat on the couch. "That looked badass!"

"Well," Ochako enthuses, and Katsuki tunes out. He's heard this story before, and so he simply lets the sounds of their voices wash over him.

He's going to miss this.

Scratch that – he already does.

With the last of the dishes set out to dry, Katsuki dries his hands and snags his leather bomber jacket from where he'd draped it over the back of one of the dining chairs last night. He shrugs it on as he crosses the room to the couch where Eijirou and Ochako are still talking animatedly. They turn to him upon hearing his approach.

"Alright loser," he says, "you ready to go?"

"Ready when you are!"

Katsuki hesitates a moment, but leans down over the back of the couch to press a kiss to Ochako's forehead. He doesn't have many more opportunities to show her just how much she means to him, and he'll be damned if he passes any of them up.

"I'll be back later," he says. "Want anything while I'm out?"

Ochako thinks about it, but shakes her head. "I'm good," she says, looking up at him with those brown doe-eyes of hers. She scrunches her nose. "You're wearing that jacket? Katsuki, it's August."

Katsuki shrugs. "Air conditioning is still cold. And if nothing else, you just don't fuckin' understand fashion."

"Right, right," she says, letting the dig slide. "I always forget the heat doesn't bother you like it does everyone else! Okay. Well, I know it's a tall order, but please try to stay out of trouble!"

Eijirou laughs. "Bakugou? Stay out trouble? That's a good one!"

"Hey!" Katsuki protests as they leave. "You do know it was mostly fuckin' Deku always getting into trouble, right?"

Ochako's laughter follows them out the door.

"So," Eijirou says, settling reflective aviators over his face, "wanna dick around the mall for a while and then go to the arcade?"

Katsuki puts his own aviators on, wincing when he realizes he accidentally picked up Ochako's favored pair instead of his own. These ones pinch his temples.

"Sound good to me."

Thirteen's agency isn't far from UA, and thus the apartment isn't either. It doesn't take them long to get to the Kiyashi Ward Shopping Mall. Eijirou shivers as they step inside, and Katsuki knows it's not because of the air conditioning.

"It's still weird, coming back here," Eijirou murmurs, watching the crowd. "I just can't forget that the first time we were here was right before the disaster at the training camp … and that Shigaraki nearly murdered Midoriya and none of us were there to save him."

He pauses. "Wait, no. Uraraka was. But from what I heard, she didn't save him so much as Shigaraki saw her and panicked."

Katsuki barely remembers the shopping mall incident – mostly because he wasn't there, and only heard about it afterward. Then all the other shit happened and, well. The rest was history. He scrambles for something to say, to help Eijirou get over this hurdle set before him, and he snorts.

"As he should have," he says indignantly. "She could've kicked his ass."

Eijirou laughs. "You're not wrong," he says, and he sloughs the weight of the past from his shoulders. "She certainly kicked your ass this year at the Sports Festival!"

Katsuki's not even mad. "She sure did," he agrees. "She sure fuckin' did."

They're not fifteen anymore; tenacious, yet unprepared and terrified. At eighteen and nineteen years old, graduated from UA as part of the most promising hero class to ever grace its halls, Red Riot and Ground Zero are well on their way to becoming two of the best goddamn heroes of all time. A villain would never be able to ambush a friend – though Katsuki still uses that term lightly – and then fuck off without ramifications.

They're stronger than that, now.

The two of them wander the mall for a while. Eijirou gets some new shirts to replace a few he'd accidentally ruined with his quirk, but mostly they just walk. Katsuki window-shops a bit, but anything he buys now is something he'll have to pack when he leaves in a couple days.

He's leaving in just a couple days.

Part of him wants to get something for Ochako, to leave her with a parting gift. He won't be here for her birthday, after all … around which time would technically be their anniversary, too.

They won't get to see it.

Clean break, he reminds himself. They want a clean break – no hard feelings, no lingering expectations. Their time is just … over … and it's time for them both to move on. So he can't get her anything, because any gift he gives her would just tie her to the past. Their past.

And he – god fucking dammit, he wants that! He wants her to wait for him, but she has her own life and he has absolutely zero right to ask her to give it up for him. Four years is a long time.

Four years.

By the time he returns to Japan for more than just a visit, they'll have been apart for longer than they were together at UA. For longer than the entire fucking time he's known her to date.

In a line of work like heroism, neither of them will make it out the other end unscarred. Neither of them will be the same people they are now. Neither of them are the same people they were when they first met at UA.

Which is good! It's good.

But the knowledge that they might not be compatible in four years, even if they want to be?

That's not good. Not good at all.

Which is why a clean break is best, and which is why he can't buy her anything.

He wants to, though. He really, really wants to.

"Bakugou?" Eijirou asks, breaking him out of his reverie. "Are you okay? You've been staring into the window of that jewelry shop for an awful long time."

"Hm?" Katsuki asks, Eijirou's words not quite registering at first. "Oh, yeah. Fucking fantastic." With one last look, he turns on his heel and walks away. "Come on, let's get something to eat. I'm hungry."

They find the most secluded spot in the food court they can. Being a mall food court, it's really not all that secluded, but nobody's looking their way and so they'll take it. Katsuki usually doesn't mind talking to fans, and he knows Eijirou thrives off it, but today is the last day they'll see each other for a while. Katsuki wants to spend it with Eijirou, not pandering to a bunch of fuckin' extras.

But when Eijirou switches gears from trading stories about work and life to ask the Question, Katsuki starts to wonder if maybe he'd have preferred dealing with the extras.

"So," Eijirou says, taking a bite of one of his fries, "you excited for America?"

If he's being completely honest, this is the last conversation Katsuki wants to be having. It's too personal, which is ridiculous. It shouldn't be! It's a perfectly normal conversation to have with someone going to study abroad, and yet.

And yet.

Somehow it manages to hit each and every one of his vulnerable spots.

He shrugs. "Yeah, I guess," he hedges. "It's a great opportunity – international exposure and a full ride to university? Who else from our class besides me and Half n' Half is going to college?"

"I think Yaoyorozu is doing something part-time," Eijirou says, thinking. "Something to do with materials engineering. But bro –"

Katsuki looks up at Eijirou's sharp tone and meets red, red eyes that read him like a book.

"– That's a line and you know it."

Katsuki freezes, every muscle in his body tightening as he glares down at the table. "What the fuck do you want me to say?" he snaps. "That I wish I hadn't accepted? That I don't want to fucking leave?"

"N-no," Eijirou protests weakly. "I just want you to be honest with me. And yourself."

The food court is loud, but silence stretches between them like molasses. Katsuki wrestles with himself as he tries to formulate words to properly express what he's feeling, but the words just won't come. Does he even know what he's feeling?

He doesn't fucking know.

He sighs heavily after several long moments. Anyone else he would've told to fuck right off, but this is Eijirou. Besides, Eijirou wouldn't listen to him even if he did tell him to fuck off.

"When I accepted All Might's nomination, I thought …"

The words run out. What the fuck had he thought? That he wasn't getting over his insecurities any time soon? That he needed to start over? That life in America would be better than the life he'd fucked up here in Japan? That running away was the only option?

Fuck, he can't just say shit like that.

"I didn't have a reason to stay," he says shortly.

Eijirou stares back at him, disbelief clear on his face. He looks almost hurt. "But," he says, "what about us? What about Uraraka?"

Katsuki rolls his eyes, covering his flinch at Ochako's name. "Fucker. You think we won't be friends while I'm abroad? You wouldn't let that happen. Besides, we'll have hero salaries, and it's not like airplanes don't exist."

He despises flying, but he'll happily cover part of the cost if Eijirou wants to come visit.

Eijirou raises his eyebrows. "And Uraraka?"

They've been apart for so long, Katsuki had almost forgotten how annoyingly persistent Eijirou can be when he sets his mind to it. He supposes he can't complain too much – it's really the only reason why they're friends.

He doesn't meet Eijirou's eyes. He can't. He props his cheek against his knuckles, elbow on the table, and stares off across the food court.

"I wasn't going to have her," he says with a certain sense of finality. "I wasn't supposed to have her. I was gonna keep my stupid fucking mouth shut for once in my goddamned life and get over it. But then she fell, and I fucked up, and for some reason she wanted to give it a shot after I ignored her for weeks. And I – selfishly – took what I could get."

Of course the words come to him now. Great. Just perfect.

"I … wouldn't call that selfish, exactly …"

"Eijirou." He doesn't usually use Eijirou's given name in public, but it feels appropriate for this conversation. "I'm leaving in a couple days. I'm leaving her alone!"

"And she knew exactly what she was getting into when she told you how she felt!" Eijirou cries. "Katsuki, you couldn't have possibly made that decision for her."

Katsuki sits up and runs a hand back through his hair. "You're right," he admits. "You usually are. That … would've been even shittier of me. But –"

"But?"

He sighs, exasperated. "Come on, Ei. Ochako … she deserves, fuckin', everything. Romance, support, the whole shebang. And I'm … me. You know how I am. You know she can do so much better."

"Katsuki," Eijirou snaps with a bite in his voice Katsuki rarely hears, "cut that shit out. You keep forgetting you're not the same guy you were in first year! I saw you with Uraraka this morning, and that was … hell, Katsuki, who cares if you think she could do better? She was one of the most level-headed girls in our class, and she chose you!"

"All of the girls in our class were level-headed," Katsuki says dryly. "You know they all took that shit far more seriously than some of the guys ever did." He sighs. "Well, it's not like it matters now."

"You're not trying the long distance thing like Midoriya is with Todoroki?"

Katsuki smiles, but it's hollow. Empty. He shakes his head ruefully. "We talked about it, but four years is a long time. We wouldn't survive the distance."

He traces some of the condensation left on his drink. That hadn't been a fun conversation. It helped that they'd both been on the same page going in, but saying aloud what they both knew to be true made things real.

The truth is, he and Ochako fight a lot. Katsuki may have mellowed out over the years, but he's still hotheaded and confrontational as hell. The slightest things still set him off on occasion, and it's led to full-on screaming matches about the most mundane shit. It's not even like he means to yell, he just … loses his temper.

He's always been explosive, with a short fuse to match, and he doesn't want to make any fucking excuses for it. Excuses aside, though, that's just how he is.

His temper would have driven anyone else away within the first two weeks, but Ochako is Ochako, and she has a stubborn streak wider than his temper is long. She digs her heels in, stands toe-to-toe with him, and yells right back.

It thrills him.

It thrills her as well.

That said, she's quick to make it incredibly clear when he crosses a line he shouldn't have crossed. When she shuts down and refuses to engage with him no matter how hard he tries to draw her in, that's when he knows he fucked up. It's only happened a handful of times, and each time it's forced him to take a step back and calm down enough to have a proper conversation.

Katsuki doesn't know how she does it. He also doesn't know if he'll ever find anyone who can read him as well as she can. If he'll find anyone with the same stubborn streak and the incredible amount of patience he knows it takes to put up with him for any length of time.

But … that's beside the point.

The point is that unfortunately, physical contact is a huge part of bringing them back together after their blowouts. Without that connection drawing them back to each other, assuaging hard feelings and reaffirming what they mean to each other … it wouldn't be long before those blowouts blew them apart.

"That … sucks, dude," Eijirou says. "I'm sorry."

Katsuki shrugs and pulls himself together. "It is what it is," he says. "You're right. We knew what we were getting into."

"Doesn't make it suck any less."

Well, Eijirou has a point there.

"You wanna go blast some things at the arcade?" Eijirou asks.

A corner of Katsuki's mouth twists up into something resembling a smile. There's a reason Eijirou is his best friend. The other man might push him when he doesn't want to be pushed, but he also knows when to back off and how to make him feel better.

"Sounds good to me."

The next day brings the one thing Katsuki has been dreading the second-most.

The press conference.

"I don't see why we have to do this fucking thing," Katsuki grumbles, pulling at the collar of his shirt. "We're going to America. End of story."

Half n' Half snorts. Katsuki hasn't seen the guy in person since they graduated, though he's been splashed all over the news just like the rest of them. The intervening months have been kind to him – his hair is longer, and he's pulled his bangs back with the rest of it in a way he never did in high school.

He oozes a sickeningly calm, collected confidence. Is he not bothered by the fact he'll be leaving his entire life behind in only a couple days? Is he really so at peace with himself about the decision to go through with this that he has no regrets?

And if he is, why can't Katsuki achieve that same peace of mind?

"It's 'cause we're part of the 'Golden Year,'" Half n' Half says dryly. "Bakugou Katsuki, who had to be chained up at the first year Sports Festival, and Todoroki Shouto, son of the number one hero. They're all clamoring to get a piece of us."

"I'm keeping all of myself," Katsuki grumbles, "thank you very much."

But that isn't true, is it? Ochako has a part of him. She's had a part of him since the day she wiped the arena floor with his ass. Was it first year or third year? It doesn't matter – not anymore.

"Shouto!"

Is that? Katsuki turns. It is.

"What the fuck, Deku?" he asks. "The fuck are you doing here?"

Deku isn't … isn't going abroad with them, is he?

"I had the day off, so I came to support Shouto!" Deku chirps, sidling up to Half n' Half. "And you too, of course, Kacchan! Are you excited?"

Katsuki opens his mouth to respond, but closes it just as quickly. There's nothing he can say that won't come out bitter; that won't come out closer to the truth than he's willing to admit.

"Kacchan?"

Something cracks in his chest at the sound of Deku's fucking concern. He doesn't want concern. He doesn't want pity. He just wants to be left the fuck alone. To be left the fuck alone with Ochako. He wants Ochako to be here with him, but she's not and she won't be.

Katsuki is about two seconds away from either exploding or crying – it's a fifty-fifty shot at this point. Before he can find out which way he'll fall, All Might calls their names.

"They're ready for you, boys," he says. "Remember, you don't owe them anything, but don't give them anything to latch onto either." He shudders – it's obvious he's speaking from personal experience.

"Young Midoriya, my boy, there's a seat reserved for you in the audience. I suggest you head there now."

"Yes, sir!" Deku says, bowing. He turns and presses a quick kiss to Half n' Half's cheek. "I'll see you later," he says, and then he's gone.

It's fine. Katsuki will see Ochako when he gets home. It's all fine.

It's fine.
It's all fine.

All Might leads them out to the table. Katsuki steps into the open and immediately squints against the light of dozens of flashbulbs erupting in his face. There are hordes of reporters crammed in front of them. Surely he and Half n' Half aren't that exciting – they're not even full pros yet! Hell, they only graduated a couple months ago! His shoulders tense beneath his collared shirt. His tie – properly tied by Ochako earlier that morning – lies like a noose around his neck.

It's fine.
It's all fine.

Half n' Half's words come back to him. Golden Year. That's what the kid called them too, wasn't it? Katsuki's still thinking as he takes his seat. As ready as he is to get away from Japan and everything it stands for, it's nice to have that unbreakable thread tying him back to his old classmates.

Not that he'd ever admit it.

He's part of the Golden Year. He'll be part of the Golden Year while he's in America, and he'll be part of the Golden Year when he returns.

It's a thread that will keep him tethered.

"Ground Zero! Centigrade!" The first reporter cries their names, drawing Katsuki's attention. "You leave for America in two days – What are you most looking forward to about it?"

Now, Katsuki is no stranger to speaking in front of crowds. He gave the opening address at the Sports Festival his first year. They had a public speaking class at UA. Since graduating, he's addressed crowds of civilians and on-site reporters without so much as a flinch.

The crowd swims before him. Distantly, he hears Half n' Half saying something about university and new experiences and the historical relevance of America to heroism. It's a good response. A polished response.

Katsuki scrambles to think of something to say.

What is most looking forward to about it?

He isn't looking forward to it at all.

Half n' Half falls silent, and expectant eyes fall to him. His eyes in turn search for Ochako in the crowd, but she's not here.

It's fine.
It's all fine.

"I'm looking forward to experiencing what it means to be a hero in another culture," he croaks, though his voice stays remarkably level, "and furthering my education."

It's a textbook answer at best, but an answer nonetheless. When it becomes evident he'll say nothing more on the subject, another reporter is quick to fill the silence.

"What prompted you to accept All Might's nomination?" she asks. "Question for both Ground Zero and Centigrade."

Katsuki tugs at his tie in an attempt to relieve the constricting sensation. Beside him, Half n' Half shifts his weight uneasily. Katsuki isn't privy to the other man's secrets, but he's gathered enough over the years to know this is a question he wants to answer about as much as Katsuki does.

Which is to say, not at all.

"I think," Katsuki says, "that I speak for the both of us when I say, 'because it's fu- because it's All Might.'"

Half n' Half nods solemnly beside him. "All Might has cited his experience abroad as instrumental in his development several times over the years. It would have been foolish to turn down such an opportunity."

That won't satisfy the reporters either, but to hell with them.

"For both Ground Zero and Centigrade, again. How does it feel to follow in All Might's footsteps?" is the immediate follow-up question. "Do you think you'll be able to live up to his legacy?"

"Hey," All Might chides playfully, butting in for the first time. "I'm not dead yet."

"No, but you came pretty fuckin' close," Katsuki mutters, leaning too far back for the mic to pick it up. He knows this all too well – he was there, after all.

It's fine.
It's all fine.

"I don't think anyone can live up to All Might's legacy," Half n' Half says frankly. The reporters murmur amongst themselves in surprise, but he continues as if unbothered. "I don't think we're meant to. I think we're all supposed to forge our own legacies, so that's what I'll do."

Half n' Half isn't wrong, but he isn't right either, Katsuki thinks. If anyone is going to live up to All Might's legacy, it's fucking Deku. After all, he was hand-picked to be All Might's successor. All the same, he supposes, Deku will never be All Might. He'll be Deku, the one who came after All Might.

Maybe Half n' Half is right.

"Don't get me wrong," Katsuki says when he realizes Half n' Half has stopped speaking, "I'm going to be the number one hero in Japan, but I'll never be All Might."

All too late, he realizes his mistake.

"Ground Zero, you say you're going to be the number one hero in Japan, but you're leaving for America for four years! How is that going to help you reach your goal? Wouldn't it be best to stay in Japan?"

Yeah, he fucking walked right into that one. Katsuki sighs. He's been asking himself the same goddamn question for months now, but they can't know that.

"All Might studied abroad for four years and still became the number one hero in Japan," he points out instead.

"Our peers will still be working as sidekicks for a couple years yet and thus won't be eligible for the hero rankings for some time," Half n' Half says, and any other time Katsuki would've been upset with him for presuming he needed the rescue. Any other time. "Studying abroad will not set us any farther back than staying in Japan would."

"Centigrade," someone else calls, "speaking of your peers, I saw Deku in the crowd earlier – how is your decision to go abroad going to affect your relationship?"

Katsuki watches Half n' Half for some sort of response, but he doesn't even flinch. "It isn't," he says coolly. "Deku and I are confident in our ability to maintain a long distance relationship, and will remain together while I'm in America. That is all I will say on the matter, so please don't ask any further questions."

It's a well-rehearsed line, but Katsuki has no doubt that every word of it is true; after all, Deku and Half n' Half are calm, placid waters, unmoved by the storm brewing around them. They're a red sky in the evening, and it's fading to the dark comfort of a cool midnight – a midnight which holds promise of the dawn ahead.

It's fine.
It's all fine.

"Ground Zero, if Deku is here to support Centigrade, where is Uravity? Does she not support your decision to go abroad?"

It's.
It's not fine.

Katsuki's heart skips several beats in a row as panic floods his system. He should have expected this question as soon as he saw Deku with Todoroki. He did expect it, and yet he's still caught off guard. He clenches a fist under the table as he struggles to get a grip on his emotions. Is he angry? Is he sad? He doesn't know.

He just is, and that's … that's not enough.

He just is, and that's … that's too much.

"If you'd bothered to check the real news this morning," he growls past the noose tightening around his neck, "you'd see she's fucking working, cause she's a goddamned hero. Not that it actually matters to you fucks, but she fully supports my decision to go abroad and become the best person – and hero – I can be."

He almost wishes she didn't support it. It wouldn't change his decision, but it would certainly make leaving her a whole hell of a lot easier. Alas, she was the first person he told about All Might's nomination, and she knew what she was getting into at the start of their relationship. She's been prepared for this eventuality.

He hasn't been.

"How will that decision affect your relationship?"

"No fucking comment," he bites. They're pouring salt in his wounds, and he's had enough of it. "We've discussed it and come to an agreement, but that's between me and her and the rest of you can fuck right off."

"Young Bakugou," All Might murmurs, but Katsuki shrugs him off. He just wants to get the rest of this press conference over with. He knows he fucked up – his outburst will be a stain on his record for years to come – but at least he's leaving the country in short order. The media can't give him too much shit about it in the little time he has left.

It's fine.
It's all fine.

Aizawa stands to call the press conference back under control, but Katsuki pays him no mind – indeed, his mind is elsewhere. Deku and Half n' Half might be calm waters, a sanguine evening, a peaceful midnight with the promise of dawn, but him and Ochako?

They're the waves caught in the squall, frothy and turbulent. They're a red sky in the morning, and it's burning away to the blinding brightness of a blazing noon. The sun is at its zenith, and all it can do now?

Well, all it can do now is set.

His last days in Japan pass as quickly as they come. He sees his parents, but he spends most of the time with Ochako. She surprises him by taking the days off work, and while they argue at first about her having done so, Katsuki can't believe she'd actually do that for him.

His heart aches. This woman genuinely wants to spend time with him, to be with him, to go out of her way for him – and he's throwing it all away.

Packing up his entire post-graduation life takes only a couple hours. He didn't move much into Ochako's apartment in the first place with the knowledge he'd have to do exactly this, but the fact that their entire life together fits into two neat black suitcase that now wait by the front door doesn't sit well with him.

It's the beginning of an end, and Katsuki wishes he could pack his feelings away as neatly as he did his belongings.

Instead, he sighs and casts an eye around the bedroom. His drawers have been emptied. One half of the closet is bare. He has a single outfit laid out for the morning.

It taunts him.

Katsuki leaves the bedroom, pulling the door to behind him with a soft snick. Ochako isn't in the living area or the kitchen, and the entire apartment is hauntingly silent. It's not empty, but the promise of emptiness lies between the hum of the air conditioning and the rumbling of the refrigerator.

Soon, the emptiness will be Ochako's only constant companionship.

A breath of fresh summer air caresses his face, and Katsuki turns to see the balcony door propped open. He catches a wisp of brown hair beyond it. Crossing the apartment, he leans against the doorway and folds his arms.

Ochako stands out on the balcony, her elbows braced against the railing. The hem of her sundress flutters in the evening breeze; the ends of her chestnut hair flutter along with it. She's ignorant of his presence as she stares out over the city – the city she helps to protect. The city he's leaving behind.

Not for the first time, her natural beauty threatens to take his breath away. She's majestic – a guardian angel, untouchable and peerless as she watches over the city. The sun is starting to set behind her, and her silhouette is one Katsuki wishes he could gaze upon for years to come.

But he only has hours to go.

"I know you're there," Ochako says at long last. She looks back over her shoulder and smiles. "Have you finished packing?"

Katsuki swallows hard. "Yeah," he says. "Yeah I have." He pauses as he debates his next words. "Look, about earlier –"

Ochako cuts him off with a shake of her head. "Don't worry about it," she says. "I know how hard this has been for you. There's nothing you need to apologize for."

She tried to help him pack earlier, but he snapped at her one more time than she was willing to put up with. She'd left the bedroom without another word, and he hadn't seen her since.

"Have you been out here the entire time?" he asks, pushing off of the doorframe. He joins her at the balcony rail, and she nods as she stares off into the distance.

"It's a beautiful night," she says by way of response.

Katsuki never would have taken the time to appreciate the sunset on his own, but now, beside her, he gazes up at the purples and pinks and oranges painted across the sky and has to agree. It reminds him of her, although for what reason, he doesn't fuckin' know.

Ochako opens her mouth as if to say something, but closes it again after a long moment. She shakes her head, and Katsuki wishes he could know what she's thinking. He almost asks, but … some things are best left unsaid.

"I bet the sunsets are just as beautiful in California," she says after another minute.

Katsuki only nods in acknowledgement.

Time is slipping away from them. The sun sinks lower in the sky with every moment that passes, and yet they're fucking … standing here, trading awkward small talk like they've only just started dating. Is this … is this what it all comes down to? The best eight months of his entire fucking life, culminating in, what? Nothing?

She's slipping away from him, and he's not ready to let go.

"Ochako," he says, grabbing her hand and turning towards her, "I –"

A pink-padded finger settles against his lips, cutting him off. He stares down at her. The breeze has teased her gravity-defying brown hair into disarray, and goddammit, even now she's still so infuriatingly perfect.

She meets his gaze with melancholy eyes, a crease in her brow and a bittersweet smile on her lips. "Katsuki, don't," she says. "Don't make this any harder on us than it has to be."

"But –"

"I know."

The finger lifts from his lips, and her hand rises to caress his cheek. The pads of four fingers drift along his skin, and the tenderness is everything he's never felt he deserved. Almost instinctively, he turns his face into her palm.

"Katsuki." Her voice breaks as she says his name again, and her eyes glisten in the watercolor sunlight. "You're going to be amazing. This opportunity was made for you, and I'm so, so proud of you and everything you're going to do. Of everything you have done."

She pauses a moment and scrunches her nose. "Well, except maybe cursing out those reporters," she says through a watery smile. "I probably shouldn't be proud of you for that."

There's so much Katsuki wants to say. He wants to tell her how proud of her he is, for everything – no exceptions. He wants to tell her just how much she means to him and how much she'll continue to mean to him even after he's gone. He wants to thank her for never giving up on him, for challenging him when he needed to be challenged, for not taking all of his fucking bullshit, for inspiring him to be a better human being and a better hero.

He wants her to know that she'll never come second to anyone for as long as she lives, and that if anyone makes her believe otherwise then they're not worth her time, let alone her attention.

But all that comes out of his fucking traitor mouth is:

"Which time?"

Startled, Ochako laughs through the tears streaming freely down her face. Katsuki reaches up to cup her cheeks, wiping the saltwater away with his thumbs. He's still not used to it: these hands, so destructive in nature, being used for something so gentle.

Before her, he didn't know they could be gentle. He doesn't think anyone else did, either.

Well, he proved them all fucking wrong in the end, didn't he?

"Katsuki," Ochako says again.

Katsuki's lips meet hers, and there are no more words spoken between them. She's warmth and comfort and sadness and sweetness and strength all wrapped up in his arms and he never wants to let go.

So he doesn't.

And if some of the salt they taste that night are his own tears, well. That's their secret, and no one else ever has to know.

He wakes at the crack of dawn the next morning.

Ochako's limbs are heavy across his, and it's with great care that he extricates himself from beneath her. She stirs, and he worries he's woken her, but it's far too early and she simply pulls the covers to her chin as she turns over.

He wants to wake her. Wants to say goodbye. Wants …

He wants.

But they said their goodbyes last night, and they agreed it'd be easier on both of them if he left while she still slumbered, and he'll – he'll respect that.

He showers, and if he uses her soap and shampoo, it's such a small amount that she surely won't miss it. Dressed in the clothes he laid out the night before, he steps out of her bedroom for the last time.

The last time.

He packs the last of his things in one of the neat black suitcases, the zipper rattling like a machine gun in the silence of the morning. That done, he stands in their – no, Ochako's – no, Ura … Uraraka's apartment for a moment longer.

This was the homeliest home he's ever known, but everyone leaves home in the end.

His fingers toy with a small scrap of paper he'd hidden in one of the suitcases the evening before. He wants to leave the note. He wants to ask Ocha- Uraraka to wait for him. He wants to leave something of himself behind. He wants to be remembered.

He wants.
He wants.
He wants.

Clean break.

With a heavy sigh, he tucks the slip of paper into the pocket of his leather bomber jacket. Grabbing the suitcases, he hauls his life out of Uraraka's.

He locks the door behind him and slides the key back beneath it. It's done. This chapter of his life is closed, and it's time for the next one. There's no point in looking back, it's only what's forward that matters.

This is the way his world ends.
This is the way his world ends.
This is the way his world ends.

But there's a new one ahead of him.

Stepping out beneath a crimson sunrise, he starts walking.