Limerence
(Memories)

If there's one thing Katsuki hates more than cold, it's rain.

When it's cold out, Katsuki can bundle up in layer after layer, insulating himself against the quirk-deadening temperatures. It's annoying, sure. He hates having to work harder to access something that has always been a part of him. But it works.

When it rains, however, there's nothing he can do. The water sluices down the back of his neck and over his clothes, tiny streams dripping from his fingers when he holds his palms just so. Any sweat he generates is immediately washed away, leaving him drenched and effectively powerless.

The gloves of his hero costume help to negate the rain's effects, but he's not wearing his costume right now.

And he forgot an umbrella.

Fuck him.

Katsuki kicks at a stray pebble on the sidewalk. Hands in his pockets, sweatshirt hood up and shoulders drawn in against the rain, he trudges home from his chemistry lab. It's late. The sun is setting, although the dimming light is the only indication due to the heavy grey cloud cover overhead. Katsuki sighs.

California is, at the same time, both everything he expected and not at all what he expected. The first few weeks were rough as he settled in and adjusted to hearing English as the predominant language around him. He lost his temper several times those first weeks. Half n' Half offhandedly remarked it was like seeing first-year Katsuki again, which promptly spurred Katsuki into attempting to get his shit together.

It was hard. It is hard. He's still having trouble.

The one person who could help him most is the one person he absolutely cannot talk to.

He pushes the thought away and kicks at another pebble a little harder than the first. It flies away from his toe and dings a passing car. Katsuki winces. The car whooshes past, its driver entirely unaware of what transpired.

But that's life isn't it? Everyone is a pebble in the stream. They're all tiny and insignificant in their own way, their edges worn down by the eddies and currents and turbulence they're subjected to. While they might start in one place, more often than not they end up in another place altogether farther downstream.

Moving back upstream just isn't done.

Thankfully, Katsuki arrives at his apartment not long after that. It's one of the perks of heroing – the salary is high enough that he could afford an apartment close to both the university and the agency. He wipes his feet against the complex's entrance mat for all the good it does him. He's still sopping wet by the time he unlocks the door to his unit.

"I'm home," he calls, removing his shoes.

"And why should I care?" his roommate calls back, his voice muffled but as deadpan as ever.

If someone told Katsuki three years ago he would one day willingly share an apartment with Half n' Half, he probably would have exploded their face. Even now, he can't believe he's rooming with fucking Deku's boyfriend. Alas, they both needed an apartment. They had experience living together in the dorms. They both spoke Japanese. It made sense.

On a good day, Katsuki would grudgingly admit that Half n' Half was actually a decent roommate. He was quiet and kept to himself most of the time. If it weren't for the fact they let each other know when they're home, Katsuki would never know there was someone else in the apartment most of the time.

If pressed, he might even admit that it's nice, having a piece of home with him.

He would never admit that Half n' Half's no-nonsense attitude was exactly what he needed to get him through the first few weeks.

But that's neither here nor there.

"You shouldn't," Katsuki barks, stalking across the tiny living room. Despite his best effort, he drips. He'll have to clean that up later. That's another nice thing about living with Half n' Half – they're both neat freaks.

He accidentally slams his bedroom door behind him. Oh well, Half n' Half can deal. First order of business: changing out of his wet fucking clothes. Only then will he be able to focus on … literally anything else.

Grabbing a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, Katsuki changes in his bathroom. He leaves his drenched clothing to languish in his bathtub. He'll deal with that later.

He towels off his hair and steps out of the bathroom. Surveying his bedroom, he sighs heavily. He's lived here for nearly a month now, and yet the suitcases remain strewn across his floor as if he'd just moved in yesterday. They're both half-empty at this point, so that should theoretically make unpacking the rest go a lot faster, but he just … hasn't been able to bring himself to do it.

It hasn't been necessary, and the bare minimum is about all he's been able to do recently. He attends class and does his homework and puts his all into his internship, but beyond that?

He hasn't even been able to cook.

But he needs to get his bags unpacked. He can't stand the thought of one more pitying look from Half n' Half the next time the other man pokes his head in to ask him a question, and so it has to be done.

Thunder rumbles outside his window. Rain patters against the panes. What better day to do a dull, mundane task like unpacking than a day like today?

Taking a deep breath, Katsuki toes the first of the suitcases open. He can do this. It's just unpacking.

"It's just unpacking," he snorts. "Yeah, right."

Unpacking means he's accepted this is his life for the next few years. Unpacking means he's settled in and ready to stay. Unpacking means that this is his apartment, and hers … isn't.

But while her apartment felt like home, this one … this one lacks any and all of that personality and comfort. It still feels temporary, more like a hotel room than a home. Somewhere only to sleep, a liminal space like none other.

Maybe unpacking will help dissipate some of that feeling.

Katsuki grabs a handful of clothing out of the suitcase. Even though he's been in California for three weeks now, most of his clothes still haven't been unpacked. He wore what he needed out of the suitcase the first week, and he's just done laundry since then. An extra pair of pants or sweatshirt may have joined the original weeks' worth of clothing as the weather changed, but that's it.

He tosses that handful into the correct drawers and goes back for more. It's tedious and mundane and the last thing he wants to be doing right now – in all honesty all he wants to do is crash into bed – but he needs to get this done.

If he does it now, he won't have to do it later.

Memories creep back, unbidden, as he goes through his clothing. He tries not to think about them, tries to ignore them, but they won't be ignored. This is the shirt he was wearing when he was kidnapped by the League. This is the tank top he wore when he fought Deku in their first year. This is … this is the one he wore the night Ocha– Uraraka ambushed him in gym Zeta, and this is the one he wore on their first official date.

He stuffs them into their respective drawers all the same. They're shirts, and that's all. What would fuckin' Half n' Half say if he knew Katsuki was getting overly emotional about fabric?

Well, actually, Half n' Half probably wouldn't say anything. He'd just give Katsuki that pitying gaze that pisses Katsuki off so bad. For god's sake, he isn't broken! He's doing just fucking fine. Half n' Half can fuck off and stop worrying so much.

Not that Eijirou's been much fucking better. Katsuki left his last "how are you doing?" text from a couple days ago on read. He'll text Eijirou back soon, but about something entirely different. He appreciates Eijirou's concern – really he does – but he doesn't need to be babied.

Really. He's fine.

It's fine.

It's all fine.

Katsuki packs his stuff away slowly and methodically. Half n' Half knocks on his door sometime in the middle of it.

"What do you want?" Katsuki barks.

"I'm going out with Rosetta and a few others in a bit," Half n' Half says through the door. After a moment's pause he adds, "Do you want to come?"

With a pair of socks in hand, Katsuki sighs as he looks down at his suitcases. Sure, unpacking is the last thing he wants to be doing right now, but going out and socializing sounds worse. He's exhausted – he knows he won't be good company.

"No," Katsuki bites, squeezing his socks as if they're a stress ball. Something compels him to add, "Sorry. Another night."

"That's what you always say," Half n' Half says, his voice muffled by the door. "Staying in every night won't help you adjust."

God, could Half n' Half get any more annoying? "Yeah, well. Whatever. Fuck off, have fun, don't cheat on Deku, all that good shit."

Katsuki can't see the other man, but he's sure Half n' Half rolls his eyes. That's what he always does. Katsuki waits for a response, but none comes. He sighs loudly.

He should go out. He really should. He just doesn't want to.

Tossing the socks into a drawer, he turns and reaches for yet another black shirt. It's soft and faded, a contrast against some of his newer black shirts, but he thinks nothing of it. He pulls it out of the suitcase. Its faded, cracked skull print stares back at him and–

–and he's no longer standing in this cold, soulless California room.

He's in a much homelier bedroom, halfway across the world and a month long since passed. Golden sunlight peeks in through an open window, casting luminescent shadows across rumpled sheets, pale skin and chestnut hair. Katsuki stands in the doorway, just returned from his morning run, it's all he can do to stare.

The girl in bed stirs, rubbing her eyes and face with mittened hands as she forces herself into wakefulness. She blinks, eyelids heavy with sleep, and a lazy grin stretches across her face as her bleary gaze settles upon him. He smiles back at her, his heart as rich and warm and full as the morning sunshine.

"You're back already?" she asks through a yawn. "But 's only" – she glances over at the bedside alarm clock and laughs. "Never mind. How was the run?"

"Same as fuckin' ever," he says. "I took a longer route this morning. I wanted to, y'know."

"See the city one more time," she finishes for him. "I get it." She yawns again. "But now you've seen the city, sooo…" She makes little grabby motions toward him, realizes she's still wearing her mittens, takes them off, and makes more little grabby motions.

Katsuki laughs as he approaches the bed. "I haven't fuckin' showered yet," he tells her. "I'm still all sweaty."

She scrunches her nose at him. "Oh whatta hardship," she says. "Yer sweat smells like burnt sugar."

He stands beside her, reaching out to card his fingers through her hair. Her eyes flutter shut as she leans into the touch, humming contentedly. He brushes a thumb across her cheek and she sighs. Opening her eyes, she grins.

She grabs his wrist, activates her quirk, and wrenches her body sideways. Three seconds later, he's on his back against the mattress and she's got him pinned with her bare thighs.

It takes him a moment to catch his breath; she's only wearing his old shirt and it's getting to him. She knows it, too. She hovers over him, her hair tickling his cheeks. He blows at it and she giggles.

"So this is how we're playing it this morning?" he finally asks, a sly grin creeping over his face.

"This is how we're playin' it," she says with that unmatched confidence of hers. "You gotta problem wi' tha'?"

He wiggles beneath her, and she squeaks before flushing bright red. "Not at all," he says primly.

"Oh shaddup," she says, and then she's kissing him like nothing else matters.

Katsuki falls to his knees, his old t-shirt clenched in both of his hands as he stares down at it. He's long since grown out of it, but she … she liked to use it as a nightshirt. It lived in her drawers more frequently than it did his. How did it end up in his suitcase?

She must have snuck it in after he'd fallen asleep that last night, burying it deep so he wouldn't find it until it was too late. Which meant … she didn't want it. She didn't want the reminder of him, of their time together. It's understandable, but it still fucking hurts.

There on the floor of his empty California bedroom, as the rain pounds his window and the thunder rumbles overhead, he cries.

He cries like he's never cried before. Violent sobs rack his frame as he lets loose everything he's suppressed this last month. He's distantly grateful for the fact Half n' Half is gone; he couldn't keep himself quiet if he tried.

He buries his face in the old shirt as he mourns everything that is, that was, and that ever could have been. He misses her. He misses her spark, her fire, her sweetness. He misses her softness at home, her hardness in battle. He misses how she always got him, even when he didn't fully understand himself.

But it's gone. It's all gone.

She's gone, and knowing her, she's probably doing just fucking fine. She wouldn't let something like this get her down for too long. She went into their relationship knowing it was temporary. She still has her life, her friends, her job and her apartment and her determination.

And here he is, crying alone on the floor of his empty apartment while Half n' Half is out with friends Katsuki hasn't bothered to make. He has an old tear-stained t-shirt, a suitcase that still isn't fully unpacked, and memories he wishes he could forget.

He'll never be able to forget.

Katsuki doesn't know how long he sits there, but the tears eventually subside. He draws a shaky breath and wipes his eyes. He feels … well, he doesn't really know how he feels. A little better, maybe? He dares to hope. If nothing else, there's a sense of internal calm that wasn't there before, but that might just be exhaustion.

He forces himself to his feet and throws the t-shirt into the depths of his closet. Where it lands, he doesn't know. He doesn't care. One of his suitcases is still only half-unpacked, but he doesn't care about that either.

He crawls into bed and falls asleep to the sounds of the storm outside.

Double majoring in chemistry and mechanical engineering while at the same time working as a hero is hard. Once his classes pick up, Katsuki has little time for anything other than school, homework, and his job. It suits him just fine; three months into his time in America, he still hasn't made a whole lot of friends.

It's not surprising, and it's all his own goddamn fault, really. His prickly nature and standoffish attitude wasn't particularly conducive to making friends with people he didn't see nearly twenty-four hours a day. When he does go out, it's because Todoroki drags him, but then the people there are really Todoroki's friends, and Katsuki just ends up feeling uncomfortable.

He talks with Rosetta sometimes when he's at the office. She's also more Todoroki's friend than his, but her quirk allows her to speak fluent Japanese, which at least makes socializing easier. She reminds him of Deku sometimes with her enthusiasm for heroes. Her interests lie in foreign heroes; he soon learns she started following his class after their first-year Sports Festival.

It gives them something to talk about, at least. If he clams up when she brings up … certain people, she pretends not to notice.

Okay, so maybe he's made one kinda-sorta friend. He should tell Eijirou. He'd be proud. Either way, it doesn't change the fact he doesn't have much time to socialize anyway.

It's a Friday night, and he's sitting at his desk racking his brains over an assignment for his physics class. Physics had never been his strong suit. It was much more Och– Uraraka's thing. She took a college class in their second year at UA in order to better understand how to manipulate her quirk.

If they were still talking, she could help him with this. Katsuki pushes the thought from his brain. He doesn't need help. He can figure this out all on his own, thank you.

Just then, Todoroki knocks on his door.

"What is it?" Katsuki demands, exasperated.

"Just letting you know I'll be making dinner and calling Izuku," Todoroki says. "Figured you'd appreciate the heads up."

"Doesn't matter to me," Katsuki grumbles, digging his pencil deeper into the paper than maybe he needs to. "Do whatever the fuck you want."

Todoroki doesn't reply, and Katsuki returns to his physics assignment. He has chemistry to do after this as well, but that shouldn't take him nearly as long.

And it doesn't.

That said, it's nine o'clock by the time he finishes the assignments that are due tonight at midnight. He knows he shouldn't have left them this late, but it just kinda … happened. He's doing better, but things still slip through his fingers more often than they used to. It's frustrating, but he makes it work.

His stomach growls, and he remembers he hasn't eaten since lunch, which was hours ago. Does he feel like cooking anything? He hedges. Not really, but he has some leftovers from dinner last night. Those will do. He'll cook tomorrow night.

Todoroki sits at the small kitchen table when Katsuki emerges, still on what looks like a video call with Deku. It's been a couple hours at this point, Katsuki thinks as he pulls his leftovers from the refrigerator. He wishes–

No.

He's not going to let himself go there.

"Is that Kacchan?" Deku asks, his voice tinny through the speakers. "Hi, Kacchan!"

Katsuki steps into frame long enough to flip Deku the bird. "Fuck off," he says without any real heat. "You're not talking to me, you're talking to your fucking boyfriend."

Deku looks well, Katsuki notes absently. He must have gotten a haircut recently, though his curly green hair refuses to accept that fact. It always has.

Deku rolls his eyes. "I've been talking to Shouto for hours," he says. "I haven't even gotten a text from you!"

Katsuki raises a disbelieving eyebrow. "Were you expecting one?" he asks.

"Well, no," Deku says. "But still!"

Katsuki opens his mouth to say something – he hasn't quite figured out what yet – but Deku looks up sharply, turning to something off-screen. A look of horror washes across his face, and Katsuki wonders what exactly could have prompted that reaction.

He doesn't have to wonder long.

"Izuku," a once-familiar voice calls, distance-faint and distorted, "I'm home!"

Katsuki freezes. His heart stops. His lungs stop. Every muscle in his body tenses. He knows that voice. Knew that voice. What's she doing here?

The words ring in his head. Izuku, I'm home. Izuku, I'm home. Izuku. IZUKU. I'm home. Home. Home home home …

"Ochako!" Deku yelps. Even in his current state, Katsuki notices the panicked look Deku shares with Todoroki. "I wasn't expecting you home this early!"

Ochako. Ochako, Ochako, Ochako …

Satisfying syllables which once dripped from his tongue so easily, now stuck in the back of his throat as he chokes on his own breath. Izuku. Ochako. When had this happened?

Fuck.

He should go. He doesn't need to see this. Doesn't need to put himself through this pain and this suffering that he tried so hard to distance himself from. But something keeps him rooted in place. He doesn't want to listen, but every cell in his body reaches out for her, straining to make out her muffled words.

"It was a slow day, so Thirteen let me go early," Ochako – no, Uraraka, says. He can't. Won't. They're not close anymore, and he can't and won't pretend otherwise. She pauses before asking. "Are you talking with Todoroki?"

"I, um." Deku glances at the camera again. A loud clattering fills the air, and suddenly all Katsuki can see is blackness. The audio still comes through clear. "I was, yeah."

"Ooh, can I say hi? I haven't seen Todoroki in ages!"

She sounds like she's doing well, at least. She's as bright and cheery as he remembers, and while a part of him is truly happy for her, another part is … disappointed, almost. He's disappointed that … that … he doesn't know. It's too little and too much all at once to put into words.

But what the fuck is going on between her and fucking Deku? And why isn't Todoroki surprised?

"Um, I– I'm not sure if that's a good idea," Deku stammers. Even without video, it's easy to tell he's flustered.

"You should go," Todoroki whispers.

Katsuki wants to. He wants to leave, but he still can't bring himself to move. His heart has long since started beating again, but now it's racing, and his lungs are trying to keep up.

Ochako– Uraraka gasps. "Izuku," she says, scandalized, "have you and Todoroki been cybersexing in the common area?"

"I– Um. Hey! Wait! Give that back!" There's more clattering, and the audio switches from to a whirling view of Deku's apartment.

"Todoroki, you have three seconds to put some goddamn pants on!" she announces. "One!"

"Wait, Ochako–"

"Uraraka, hold on–"

"Two!"

"That's not a good idea!"

"Go!"

"Three!"

The camera whirls around, and suddenly she's there. Warm brown eyes and pink cheeks fill the screen, and Katsuki's heart drops out through his stomach. The smile on her face slides into something more like she'd just been punched in the gut, and he can't stand it.

"Oh–"

He flees.

His legs unlock, and he's out of there. Tears prick at his eyes, and he fights them back. His heart threatens to beat out of his chest. His breathing overwhelms him. All he knows is that he needs out, and he needs out now.

He makes a beeline for his room, but the walls are thin. If the conversation continues, he'll still be able to hear her voice from in there, and he … he can't. He changes course and marches right out the goddamn front door.

The door slams behind him. He sinks down against the hallway wall and buries his face in his knees. Tears trickle down his face, and it's all he can do to keep his breathing somewhat steady. He can't even pinpoint what it is he's feeling. Is he sad? Angry? Jealous?

Probably all of the above.

Her voice echoes in his mind. I'm home. Two words that used to belong to him and him alone, but that she's now given to fucking Deku, of all people. No wait, sorry. Izuku.

What the fuck?

He tries to be incredulous but it just hurts. He longs for that easy intimacy they once had, the domesticity and the trust and the–

The–

He sobs.

He thought he was over this! The overwhelming emotions, the tears, the vulnerability that scares him so. Now he wonders if he'll ever truly be over it. Has she ruined him? Has the sweet, unassuming Uraraka Ochako ruined the mighty Bakugou Katsuki without even fucking trying?

Probably.

Yes.

The door creaks open, and Katsuki tenses. He doesn't look up, but he can feel Todoroki at his side. The other man sits, his left side radiating a comforting warmth. Neither of them speak for several long minutes. Todoroki politely refuses acknowledge Katsuki's tears and shaky breaths.

Katsuki swallows the lump in his throat as he tries to find something to say. "They're living together." It's not what he meant to say, but the damage is done. He keeps his gaze locked on the spot of floor beyond his knees.

"Yes."

"And you're okay with it?"

"Yes."

Katsuki sighs. "How?"

He feels Todoroki shrug. "Izuku talked to me about it before he asked her," he says as easily as he might talk about the weather. "And Uraraka asked me if I was entirely okay with it before accepting. She said she wouldn't tell Izuku if I said no, she'd make up some excuse of her own."

"You know she had a huge crush on him in school, right?" Katsuki doesn't mean to say it. It just slips out. He doesn't want to ruin what Todoroki and Deku have, but he's just so … bitter, he supposes. He's bitter.

"Yes," Todoroki says again. "It was hard to miss. I believe Deku was the only one unaware."

"And that doesn't fucking change anything?"

"No." Todoroki's unshakeable calm is unnerving. "She stepped back when she realized I had feelings for him. But even if she hadn't" – he shrugs – "I trust them both."

Katsuki swallows against a fresh wave of emotion. He wishes he had the same confidence Todoroki does. He realizes now, more than ever–

"This is why we broke up," he whispers. His voice cracks on 'broke.' "I trust her, but … but I wouldn't have been okay with this. Even now, I'm not okay with it! We would have fucking fought about it and–"

Todoroki hums, and they lapse into another silence. People come and go, but no one gives more than a passing glance at the two Japanese teenagers sitting out in the corridor.

"I'll take all of Izuku's calls in my room from now on," Todoroki says at last. It's not an apology – not quite – but Katsuki wasn't expecting one. Why should Todoroki apologize for Katsuki's own goddamn issues? "Izuku will take them in his room as well."

"You don't have to fucking do that for me," Katsuki spits even though he doesn't want Todoroki to reverse his decision. He needs the space. He doesn't know how comfortable he could be living in his own apartment if he always felt he needed to be on his toes.

"Yeah," Todoroki says, "I do."

Katsuki sighs and pushes himself to his feet. He's exhausted and emotionally drained and all he wants to do is sleep until noon tomorrow. Luckily, tomorrow is Saturday, so he can do exactly that.

Something stops him as he stands before the apartment door, one hand on the knob. There's still a sense of … of guilt, hanging about his shoulders and roiling in his stomach. He wants to be rid of this whole mess once and for all, but–

"Apologize to her for me?" He asks, as meek as one Bakugou Katsuki could be. "Not for … for everything, but. For bolting like that."

Todoroki sighs. "I suppose I could pass the message along."

Katsuki nods curtly. He steps into the apartment, and their conversation is over.

The cool sea breeze caresses his skin, a soft respite against the oppressive summer heat. Katsuki only experienced the tail end of California's summer last year, and most those days he spent holed away in his darkened bedroom. It's not that he minds the heat; he thrives in it. He revels in the sensation of beads of sweat dripping down his arms and torso, even if it glues sand to his skin like nothing else.

It took some time, but he settled into Californian life. He passed his first year of college with a 3.8 GPA, one class away from a solid 4.0. The few friends he made informed him that a 3.8 was fantastic, especially for someone double-majoring like he was, but Katsuki still chafed at the feeling of failure. It didn't help that Todoroki brought home a 4.0, but Katsuki reminded himself that while he was doubling in chemistry and mechanical engineering, Todoroki was doubling in social work and children's psychology.

Everything had its place, and everything was relative.

Katsuki joined the hiking club at the university early in his second semester, and the time spent out of the city did him a world of good. Earlier that summer, they organized a trip out to Yosemite. It pained Katsuki to take the time off from the agency, but it was worth it. It was so worth it.

Even if some of the club members had played a prank on him and he'd almost started a forest fire.

"Dude!"

A voice breaks him out of his reverie, and a shadow blocks the sun. Katsuki looks up to see Rosetta – "My name's Elena, but call me Lonnie," he learned after a few months – standing over him, her frizzy dark curls dancing wildly in the breeze. She holds a beer in one hand. The other is planted on her hip.

She's wearing clunky sunglasses, but she's speaking Japanese so he knows her eyes are an unnatural gold behind the shades.

Katsuki rolls his eyes. "Dude," he mocks in his native language. "You're blocking my sun."

Lonnie huffs and drops to sit next to him in the sand, careful of her drink. She brushes pale sand from brown thighs. "Come on, Katsuki. It's your birthday, what are you doing sitting all the way over here for?"

He shrugs. "Just felt like it," he says. "Is that a problem?" A thought occurs to him and he asks, "Did Shouto send you over to check on me?"

"Nope," Lonnie says. "I just figured I'd come over and hang for a bit."

"Well, you came," Katsuki says. "You came, you hung, and now you can go."

Lonnie pouts. "Aw, come on. Really?"

"Whatever."

Lonnie sighs and shifts beside him, getting ready to stand. Uhg, does he really have to spell this out for her?

"You can fucking stay. It's fine. What the fuck ever."

"Oh."

The wind ruffles his hair, and he takes a deep breath of the salty air. The beach is one thing he's come to appreciate in his time here in California. A few weeks ago, some of his hiking club buddies took him surfing for the first time. He wasn't great at it, but it was exhilarating all the same.

A little way down the beach, some of his coworkers set up a volleyball net. Todoroki is over there with them, his two-toned hair a dead giveaway. Although Katsuki does have friends in the agency now, Todoroki always had an easier time integrating himself into life in California. Given how traditional Katsuki knows Todoroki's family to be, he didn't expect it of him.

Then again, perhaps he had been enthusiastic about something so different from what he knew. Katsuki knows Todoroki took to being called 'Shouto' like a duck to water, while Katsuki himself had a harder time adjusting to the practice of being addressed by his first name.

The only people back home who called him 'Katsuki' were his parents, Eijirou, and Uraraka. And Deku, to an extent.

Lonnie nudges him in the side. "What are you thinking about?" she asks.

"Just … people from back home, I guess," he says. "Nothing real important."

"Of course it's important," Lonnie says softly. "You haven't seen them in, what. A year? I could never go that long without seeing my family."

Katsuki shrugs. "My folks came over around the holidays," he says, "and Eijirou came to visit just a couple months ago. It hasn't been that long."

"Still," she says.

He doesn't acknowledge her. Drawing his knees up to his chest, he crosses his arms over them and rests his chin on his arms. He stares out over the beach, from the blue sky down to the blue-green waves lapping at white sands. Children, teenagers, and adults alike run amuck, laughing and breathing and living. Katsuki recognizes several of his coworkers in the crowd.

A head of chestnut-brown hair catches the corner of his vision, and he freezes. He relaxes a second later. He knows it's not her. It can't be her, and yet a year later he still wonders. He … he still wishes, sometimes, that things were different.

He swallows the lump in his throat as he watches the mystery girl. She turns, and her face is wrong. It's too thin, too pale. Her nose is too prominent, and her eyes are too light. Still, he finds himself unable to take his eyes off her as she smiles and laughs.

"You know," Lonnie says, "You could go talk to her instead of staring like a creep."

Katsuki flushes and tears his gaze from the girl as she joins her friends. "Fuck off," he says. "She just … she reminds me of someone."

Lonnie hums. "Ochako?" she asks quietly, picking at the label of her bottle.

Katsuki's heart lodges itself in his throat. "How," he chokes. "How do you know her name?"

Lonnie shrugs, unwilling to meet his eyes. "Shouto might have mentioned it, a long time ago. He, uh. He asked me not to tell you he said anything. I didn't ask questions. I, uh, didn't need to. The Japanese hero forums talked about you guys a lot a couple years ago. And I thought maybe you were trying to keep it a secret from the others?"

Of course Todoroki said something. Katsuki isn't as angry at the revelation as he once would have been, but he sighs heavily and digs the heels of his hands into his eyes. He's actually surprised Lonnie didn't say anything before now, knowing her passion for international heroes and how closely she followed the Golden Year from UA.

"It wasn't a secret," he says, resigned. "It was never a fucking secret."

"But something happened," Lonnie prods, then catches herself. "I'm sorry. That was rude of me. You don't need to talk about it if you don't want to."

Katsuki simply shakes his head. "No, it's … it's whatever. I mean, nothing happened, really. I was leaving to come here, and we decided it would be better if we just fucking. Broke up."

"You wish you hadn't?"

"Yes– No– I mean … fuck." Katsuki sighs explosively. "I don't fucking know."

Lonnie nods, and they lapse into silence. Katsuki stares out over the beach. The ocean roars and the seagulls squawk overhead. There's background chatter and laughter and Katsuki wishes he could be that carefree but his heart aches and suddenly all he can think about is the time in second year when the class had their training camp in [BLANK]. On the final day, Aizawa allowed them all free run of the nearby beach.

Katsuki spent most of the day refusing to acknowledge how often his gaze was drawn to her.

"It's like," Lonnie says, her eyes fixed upon the horizon, "you don't regret the decision to break up, but you wish it hadn't happened."

Blows to the gut haven't knocked the wind out of him as quickly as Lonnie's words do.

"Yeah," he says. "Yeah, that's it."

"Have you talked to her since you've been here?"

Wordlessly, Katsuki shakes his head. He stares at an extended palm. "No," he says simply as he clenches his fist.

He hasn't seen her since that video call incident three months after he arrived in California. He doesn't ask Todoroki about her wellbeing, although he knows the other talks to her. Actually, he suspects Lonnie's talked to her more recently than he has. He knows Todoroki introduced her to Deku once. She … she could have been there for that.

"Why didn't you try the long-distance thing like Shouto?"

Katsuki snorts. "Lonnie, really. You've known me for nearly year now. Take a goddamn guess."

Lonnie purses her lips. "Fine," she says. "What about when you go back? Will you try to find her then?"

He shrugs. "I want to," he says. He really fucking wants to, but. "But that's still three fucking years from now. She'll probably have someone else by then."

It pains him to admit it. The dull ache flares into something sharp, something fresh. It feels like someone takes a firm grasp of his heart and squeezes until it's nothing but a lump of mushy pulp in his chest. She's moving on, and here he is – a year later – still hung up on her. It's embarrassing, really. He can't let this continue.

"That's just life, isn't it?" Lonnie says. "What a bitch. Life, that is," she rushes to correct herself, "not Ochako."

God, even hearing her name is a needle through his chest, but he chuckles. "Yeah," he says, "I hear ya."

"Well," Lonnie says, pushing herself to her feet. "I think that's enough of that. Come on." She stands over him, pushing her sunglasses up onto her head before holding out her hand. Her eyes are still gold, but he knows they'll be back to brown once they join their English-speaking friends. "It's your birthday! You gotta come have some fun. You do know what fun is, right?"

"Of course I fucking know what fun is," he bites back, but he grins. He takes her hand, and she hauls him to his feet.

She holds her beer out to him. "Want some?"

"I'm only twenty," he says. "No thank you."

She shrugs and takes another sip. "We're gonna have to break you of that," she says, and they rejoin the rest of the group. "It's un-American to not drink until you're twenty-one."

"I'm not American!"

"No, you're Japanese. And drinking age in Japan is twenty, so that's no excuse!"

Katsuki growls and Lonnie laughs. His lingering heartache fades as he watches Todoroki get hit in the head by a volleyball, and everything settles back into place.

She breaks him of it a couple months later.

"Zero!" Lonnie caught him at the agency one December afternoon as he was packing up for the day. "Are you coming to the Christmas party tomorrow?"

Katsuki shrugged and stuffed a folder into his bag. "I wasn't planning on it," he said, "but I feel like Centigrade isn't going to let me stay home this year."

Lonnie grinned. "Centigrade knows what's up," she said. "It'll be fun! There's a gift swap and ugly sweaters and way too much eggnog. I think Catchphrase is hosting this year, so we won't even have to be in costume like we were last year!"

Katsuki didn't attend last year, but he understood the sentiment. Due to the danger posed to families of American heroes should their identities get out, their real names aren't publicized and they're not allowed to call each other anything but their hero names while they're suited up. He himself didn't even know Lonnie's name until months after he met her. He still doesn't know her last name.

"That probably kept you guys from drinking too much last year too," he commented offhandedly, zipping his bag. "Given you had an image to keep and all."

Lonnie rolled her eyes. "Right? I mean, what was the point?" She paused. "So, you'll be there?"

Katsuki opened his mouth to respond, but someone called for Rosetta. It took a second for Lonnie to register the words, but she held up a finger for him to wait as her eyes faded from gold to brown.

"Sorry," she said in English. "I've got to run. Tomorrow?"

Katsuki sighed. "Yeah," he said in his own still-accented English. "I will be there."

Okay, so it took some bitching on his part and some aggressive coercions on Todoroki's part, but here he is. Bakugou Katsuki is at a goddamn party. He's even wearing the ugliest sweater he's ever seen.

He's going to blow it up as soon as they get home tonight.

"You actually came to this last year?" Katsuki asks incredulously as they drop their coats. "Quiet, reserved, 'don't-talk-to-me' Todoroki Shouto came to something like this?"

It's loud and over-the-top. Katsuki should have expected this – he's experienced two American Christmases at this point, he knows the Americans go fucking nuts over the holiday. He doesn't know why he's surprised the agency Christmas Party isn't any different.

Christmas already passed. The party had been planned for before the holiday but was interrupted by an emergency that called half the agency away, Katsuki included. They rescheduled, and the twenty-seventh was the first day anyone was able to host.

It's also Uraraka's birthday, Katsuki remembers distantly. He hopes she had a good day, even though he knows it's already the twenty-eighth in Japan, and pushes it from his mind.

"Of course I did," Todoroki says as they approached the fray. "I wasn't doing anything that night, and there was nothing to be gained by not going. I would've just been stuck at home with your mopey ass."

Katsuki bites back his retort. He knows Todoroki is right, and he doesn't have a leg to stand on.

"Shouto!" someone calls. "Katsuki!"

Katsuki looks up to see Lonnie barreling toward them. She's wearing a stripy red-and-green eyesore of a dress and carrying a red plastic cup. If Katsuki had to guess, he's say she's already a couple drinks in. Most people probably are – he and Todoroki are about an hour late.

Lonnie throws her arms around Todoroki before backing away to do the same to Katsuki. Startled, he stands stiff, but she doesn't seem to notice. She steps back, turns to Todoroki, and grins as her eyes shift from brown to gold.

"You got him to come!"

"I told you I would," Todoroki says, a small smile on his lips. "It was time we got the hermit out of his cave."

"Hey, fuck you!" Katsuki protests. "I'm not that bad!"

Todoroki and Lonnie exchange a glance and break down into laugher. Katsuki scoffs and folds his arms. "Fine," he says. "Be that way."

"Katsukiii," Lonnie whines, "don't be like that! We're just joking!"

"Yeah, whatever."

It's a testament to the amount of time they've spent together in the last few months that Lonnie doesn't even question his recalcitrance. Instead, she hooks her drink-laden arm around his and grabs Todoroki's hand with her free one. "Come on," she says. "You guys need a drink."

"I'm still only twenty," Katsuki says, partially aware of the fact Lonnie won't listen, "and Shouto's only nineteen."

Lonnie makes a dismissive noise. "Like that's stopped him before. Right, Shouto?"

Shouto shrugs. "When in Rome," he says in response to Katsuki's disbelieving stare.

How out of the loop has Katsuki been this past year and a half? Todoroki was off partying and shit while Katsuki … what? Buried himself in classwork? Hiked out in the mountains? Sulked in his room?

Goddamn.

"You know what, Half n' Half?" he says, using Todoroki's old nickname. "I bet I can hold my alcohol better than you can."

"Katsuki," Todoroki says flatly, "you've never drank before. It doesn't work that way."

And Katsuki knows this. He knows he just set himself an impossible challenge, an unhealthily impossible challenge that he would usually never go for, but–

But?

He doesn't know what the 'but' is. Maybe … maybe he just wants an excuse.

"That's the spirit!" Lonnie cheers as they reach the table. "Now, we have liquor and mixers, and beer, but I highly recommend trying the eggnog before it all disappears."

"Is that what you've been drinking?" Todoroki asks.

"Yep! Well, I was. I switched so that there was more left for other people, y'know?"

"How very thoughtful," Katsuki drawls. "Sure, I'll try it."

Lonnie drops both their arms and pours them each a cup of eggnog. They could have done it themselves, but Lonnie is clearly inebriated and no small amount of enthusiastic. Katsuki stands back and lets her do her thing.

"Shouto! Man, there you are!"

Drink in hand, Katsuki turns to see one of their coworkers winding his way toward them. Katsuki can't recall the guy's name off the top of his head, but he's one of Todoroki's friends.

"Dude, come on!" the guy says. "John and Patrick are playing beer pong in the other room and it's getting intense!"

Todoroki glances at Katsuki and shrugs before following his friend. Should … should Katsuki follow him? He doesn't know what the protocol is at these things! He's never played beer pong in his life, though he knows it's popular among his hiking buddies.

By the time he decides he should probably follow Todoroki, the other is already gone – swallowed up by the crowd. Katsuki blinks. He doesn't recognize half these people, even though he probably knows them. He hasn't seen many of his coworkers outside of costume.

Okay, fine. He takes a long sip of his drink, and it's much better than he thought it would be. He takes another. He'll just stick with Lonnie until Todoroki comes back, or maybe they can go find Todoroki together.

Then again, it's not like Todoroki is his babysitter or anything. So what if he's never been to a party before? He can handle himself.

He turns to Lonnie only to find she's a few paces away, talking to an older woman he doesn't recognize. Well, he's gotta talk to somebody. He joins them, only to find they're yammering away what he thinks is Spanish. He may have a firm grasp of English at this point, but Spanish is still beyond him.

Sipping his drink idly, he notices Lonnie's eyes are still brown. Why are they still brown? They shouldn't be – her eyes are brown when she speaks English.

She smiles at him when she notices him standing there, but doesn't interrupt her conversation with the woman. They're still talking by the time he finishes his drink. It doesn't seem like Lonnie's going anywhere any time soon, so Katsuki turns back to the table. He snags a Christmas cookie and pours himself a mixed drink.

He fights back a wince as he tastes it. He didn't choose the right combination of alcohol and mixer and he also made it a little too strong, but he's not a quitter so he drinks it anyway. He observes the party around him as he waits for Lonnie to finish her conversation.

American Christmas is just so … gaudy. It isn't tasteful at all, but Katsuki supposes it has its own certain charm. Christmas back home was always pretty quiet.

His mind drifts to the one and only Christmas he spent with Uraraka. It wasn't anything particularly special – they had just started dating and were still settling into things at that point – but it was still one of the best Christmases he'd ever had. He'd give up this gaudiness and frivolity in a heartbeat if it meant he could spend another quiet Christmas with her.

If he knocks back his second drink a little faster than he originally intended … well.

"You're thinking about something you shouldn't be, aren't you?"

Katsuki blinks down at Lonnie, who gazes up at him with concern in her golden eyes. "How the fuck would you know?"

She shrugs. "You get, like, quiet, and your face goes all soft."

"You don't know what you're talking about," he bites. "Why were your eyes brown when you were speaking to that woman? I thought they were brown when you spoke English."

Lonnie sighs and, thankfully, accepts the subject change. "They are," she says, getting herself another drink. "I was bilingual in English and Spanish before my I got my quirk. It really scared my parents when I started to only sometimes understand English and other times only understood Spanish. They thought something was wrong!"

She motions for Katsuki's cup, and he hands it to her. He waits patiently as she fills it. His head is starting to swim, and he's not entirely sure if he likes the sensation or not, but he made a bet.

"How did they figure out your quirk?" he asks, taking his cup back.

Lonnie grins mischievously, and his heart skips a vital beat. He busies himself with taking a drink. "I turned around and responded to a couple behind us in the grocery store in perfect Chinese," she says, "and my eyes turned orange!"

"Must've been a fucking shock," he grumbles.

"I don't know who it shocked more, my parents or the Chinese couple! Now come on, you can't just stand in the corner all night. Where'd Shouto go?"

Katsuki shrugs. "Some guy pulled him away to play beer pong. He went" – he waves his hand in the general direction Todoroki walked off to – "that way. I think."

"Well, let's go find him, then!" She grabs his hand, and Katsuki can't help but notice how warm her hand is. How long has it been since he's known casual affection? A year and a half, excluding the week Eijirou came to visit a couple months back? Has it been that long? He misses it. He misses her.

He's so lost in thought he forgets to pull away.

The party passes in a blur. He's not sure how much of that is due to the alcohol and how much of that is due to the sheer number of people he's forced to interact with. People come and go, most of whom he doesn't recognize out of costume, and he finds himself slipping farther and farther away.

The gift exchange occurs late in the night, and Katsuki takes a seat on a couch away from the festivities. He wasn't … wasn't originally planning on being here at all, so he doesn't have a gift. He doesn't mind. It's all silly anyway.

The couch is nice though.

Someone sits down beside him with a thump. He looks over to see Lonnie looking back at him, a small shiny parcel in her hands. Blinking heavily, he tries to find words.

"I'm not in the gift swap," he says.

Lonnie rolls her eyes and giggles before slumping into his side. "I know that, silly. I got this for ya anyway."

If the couch was nice, the warm pressure of her against his side is nicer. He should push her away. He really, really should, but he … doesn't. Go figure.

"I– you didn't have to fuckin' do that," he growls, but it lacks any real heat. Katsuki's a man who's all edges. His hair's sharp. His quirk's sharp. His mind's sharp. His name is sharp. The words drip from his lips; slow, lazy, all rounded with no edges whatsoever.

Lonnie giggles again. "I know I didn't," she says. "But I did! No takesie-backsies!"

"You're ridiculous."

"I know that too!"

With a heavy sigh, Katsuki grabs the package. It takes him a couple tries to get his finger underneath the paper to rip it up, but he manages it in the end. He pointedly avoids looking over at Lonnie's eager face. He doesn't know where the sudden anxiety has come from.

"It's a fuckin' box."

"That's the point," Lonnie says lightly, prodding him in the side. "You gotta open the box!"

Katsuki rolls his eyes and pushes Lonnie with his shoulder. It's not enough to push her away, but he didn't mean for it to be. She pulls closer into him and wraps herself around his arm, resting her head on his shoulder.

He wants to ignore it. He knows Lonnie's an affectionate drunk – Todoroki warned him about her on the way to the party earlier that evening. As much as he wants to ignore it, though, he can't. As much as it makes him anxious, it's comfortable. It's a comfort he didn't realize he craved until he was exposed to it once more.

Well, fuck.

"Come on," Lonnie says. "We don't have all night!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I'll open your stupid fucking box."

Holding the box in his Lonnie-laden hand, Katsuki pulls the top off with his free one. It's – he blinks hard as he tries to focus – it's a globe. With a precision that takes far more effort than it should, he pulls the globe from its tissue paper nest.

That's–

"That's Tokyo tower," he states.

Tokyo's famous landmarks stare back at him from where they're nestled inside the globe, pieces of tiny glitter confetti swirling around them. He gazes into the snow globe, entranced by the glitter's dance.

"I. Um. Well. I know you miss Japan, and there's not much I could really do about that, y'know? But I saw a snow globe in one of the tourist shops around here, which gave me the idea. I thought with this you could keep a little piece of Japan for yourself …" she trails off, and Katsuki finally looks up. "Do you like it?"

"I–" Katsuki's voice cracks, and he swallows against the overwhelming emotion. "I love it," he whispers. It's easily one of the most thoughtful gestures he's received in his time here in California, and he … he doesn't quite know what to do with himself.

He doesn't know why he does it. Perhaps a few wires in his brain got crossed somewhere along the line. Maybe it's the alcohol. It's possible this has been a long time coming now, and he only sees the train right before it hits him.

He turns and kisses Lonnie's temple. He was aiming for her cheek, but she's slumped a little too low against his side for him to reach. "Thank you."

Okay, so the alcohol definitely has a hand in it.

Even in his mind-blurred state, he means for that to be that. He chastises himself as he pulls away. Why did he do that? She's a friend. She's Lonnie, not Ochako, and he … he shouldn't have done that.

With his sloppy drunken reflexes, nothing could have prepared him for Lonnie reaching up and grabbing his lips with hers. Would it have mattered? When his brain catches up, he doesn't pull away like he should. He sinks into the sensation. Distantly, he wonders why he had been so hesitant.

Lonnie unwinds herself from around his arm and shifts so she's straddling his lap. She grabs the front of his ugly-ass sweater and deepens the kiss. Katsuki doesn't think. Between his alcohol-fogged brain and the headiness of the sensation, he can't think. He wraps his arms around her, the snow globe falling forgotten to the cushion beside him.

The party ignores them. They aren't the only couple making out in a corner – far from it, really. Katsuki forgets to be self-conscious. His heart soars, and he'll hold onto this moment of unadulterated happiness with everything he's got.

"What the fuck was that for?" he murmurs when they pull apart. They're both breathing heavily, and Katsuki's more than a little dazed.

"Do I have to have a reason?" Lonnie asks. "I just wanted to."

Katsuki shrugs. "Works for me."

Lonnie leans in and kisses his earlobe. "You wanna get out of here?" she whispers. "You know I live alone."

A jolt shoots through him. It's impossible to miss the implications in her words, and he finds himself wanting exactly that. He hesitates for only a second before answering. "Yeah. Fuck it. Yeah, let's go."

Katsuki snatches his gift up from the couch. Lonnie grabs his hand and leads him to the door. They grab their coats, and they're gone.

Clutching the Tokyo skyline snow globe, he offers a silent apology to the chilly December night.

They don't talk about it.

That's not to say it's a one night stand. It isn't, by any stretch of the imagination.

"I had fun," Lonnie says the morning after the Christmas party as he dresses to leave. "Do you wanna do it again sometime?"

Katsuki pauses. Does he? In the light of day, he realizes just how vulnerable the alcohol left him the night before, but he doesn't really regret any of it. He finds himself nodding. "Yeah, sure," he says. "I'm down."

"Well, you have my number."

He nods again. "Yeah, I'll text you."

And that's how it is. Nights spent together in the safety of Lonnie's apartment bleed into taking lunch together which bleeds into making plans together. Are they dating? Katsuki doesn't know. He feels like they are – this is a ritual he remembers all too well – but Lonnie doesn't ask and he's left wondering.

When someone calls him her boyfriend a month later, she doesn't correct them, and Katsuki supposes that's that. Her smile brightens his day, her Japanese eyes like twin golden suns set into her dark face. It's a stark contrast from–

No.

They're not affectionate at work. Everyone at the office knows, of course, because news travels fast and most of the agency was at that Christmas party, but Ground Zero and Rosetta aren't dating. It's a weakness which, if revealed, would make one of them – probably Rosetta, even though she's not actually a hero – a target.

Katsuki chafes at the restriction, the complete distinction between their hero and personal identities still somewhat of a foreign concept, but Katsuki and Lonnie have a freedom that Ground Zero and Rosetta don't.

And they don't have the media constantly on their asses like he and–

No.

They spend most of their time at Lonnie's apartment. Although Shouto knows about their relationship, Katsuki is uncomfortable having Lonnie over at their place. He tells Lonnie he doesn't know why. The truth is, there are a couple reasons. For one thing, Shouto is still in his long-distance relationship with Deku and Katsuki doesn't want to rub the loneliness in his face. The second is that Katsuki doesn't want another video call incident like the one a couple months after he arrived in California to happen while Lonnie's there.

It's been well over a year since that incident, but it's still something Katsuki doesn't want to happen again. He doesn't want–

No.

A couple months pass in this manner. Katsuki takes comfort in Lonnie. Since that Christmas party – no, since his birthday on the beach – he hasn't felt nearly as alone as he did the first year he was in California. She's sweet and intelligent and supportive and, really, everything he could ask for in a girlfriend.

So why does guilt sit so heavy in his heart?

It weighed him down the morning after the Christmas party. Katsuki hoped it would go away in time, but while it's gotten lighter, it still lingers. He knows he's done nothing wrong. Okay, well, not counting the stupid little mistakes one makes in every relationship, but none of those have been significant enough to cause him to feel this way.

He gives it time, because it's said time heals most things. He wants this to work, this thing between them, but … maybe this – whatever this is – isn't most things.

Three months in, he comes to terms with the inevitable. He just … he doesn't know how to bring it up.

In the end, he doesn't have to. She does.

He wonders what gives him away. Is it the way his eyes are constantly drawn to the Tokyo snow globe that sits in a place of honor on his desk? Is it the way he gets distracted sometimes, staring off into nothingness as memories overtake him?

Or does nothing give him away at all?

"Katsuki," Lonnie says to the afternoon sunlight streaming in through the window, "what are we?"

Katsuki swallows hard. They're in his room for once – Shouto is out for the weekend at a Tai Chi competition, so they're taking advantage of the fact he has the apartment to himself. She's nestled against his side, doodling abstract patterns on his skin.

He doesn't know how to answer the question. His silence must be answer enough, because she sighs.

"We're … dating?" he offers tentatively. It's not enough. He knows that, but it's all he's got.

Lonnie's finger stalls. "Yeah," she says, "we are, but …" she trails off and shrugs. She doesn't finish her sentence. She doesn't have to.

"But it's not working, is it?" The words fall from his tongue and – like a ballast – lift some of the guilt from his heart.

She shakes her head and sighs. "It's not," she agrees.

Silence falls between them, but neither of them move. Katsuki stares at the ceiling and all its imperfections. He wanted it to work. He tried to make it work. "What went wrong?"

Lonnie shrugs again. "I don't think it really went wrong," she says. "I think … I think maybe it was never right to begin with."

And damn, doesn't that hurt?

"I've been really happy these past few months with you," Katsuki says. He's grasping at straws. Is Lonnie going to slip away from him as well?

"And I've been happy too," Lonnie says, "but I– I feel like you look at me, some mornings, and you're disappointed. Disappointed I'm not Ochako." She whispers, like anything louder will topple the fragile house of cards they've built. "I'm not her, you know. I never will be."

No.

"Lonnie," Katsuki says, pushing himself up so he could see her properly, "no. No, shit. I wasn't– I'm not– I know. I know you're not her. I didn't want you to be."

"Katsuki." Lonnie sits up as well, clutching the sheets to her chest. "It's okay. No, really. It's okay. I promise."

"How is this fucking okay?" he demands. "Goddammit, Lonnie! Why didn't you say anything sooner?"

She shrugs, unwilling to meet his eyes. "I knew what I was getting into," she admits. "Shouto … he talked to me. Said you were always going to go back to her after graduation. Told me not to let you become my Ochako."

"Lonnie." He doesn't know what else to say. His heart is breaking in his chest, but not … not for himself. For her. He can't even find it in himself to be upset with Shouto.

"But I wanted to help!" Lonnie says. "I think I did? And I did want this. I– I still do. I just … I think we're better off as friends, aren't we?"

Katsuki sighs. She's not wrong. "Yeah," he concedes. "I think we are."

Lonnie looks like she's about to say something else, but instead she just swallows and nods. Pushing off the covers, she rolls off the bed and begins hunting for her clothes. Katsuki wants to help, but he doesn't know if it'd be more of an insult at this point. He sits on the bed and fights his conflicted emotions. He mourns what he and Lonnie had, even if only for a short time, but he also feels an overwhelming sense of relief.

He wasn't pretending. He was never pretending.

Why is he grateful he doesn't have to pretend anymore?

"Jesus, you really threw this thing," Lonnie says, breaking the tension in the room as she pulls her bra from the depths of his closet. "You couldn't just, like, drop it over the side of the bed like a normal person?"

Katsuki laughs, but it's weak.

She turns to him and makes a face. "Oh yeah, that's right. This is you we're talking about– hey, what's this?"

Bra in place, she grabs a wad of black fabric. She shakes it out, and Katsuki's heart lodges itself in his throat. It's his shirt. It's the old skull-print t-shirt he threw into his closet when unpacking over a year and a half ago. Black against the shadows, he forgot it was there.

"Oh."

Lonnie looks at him, puzzled. "What was this doing down here? You're such a neat freak."

Katsuki sighs. After the conversation they've just had, the last thing he wants to do is talk about that shirt, but Lonnie's his friend and she deserves the truth. "That was … it's an old high school shirt. Um. Ochako used to wear it a lot. I, uh, forgot it was back there."

"Oh," Lonnie echoes. "Do you … want me to put it back?"

Katsuki sighs and shakes his head. "Nah, you can leave it. I'll take care of it later."

"Okay," she says, draping it over the end of his bed. She stares at it a moment, and Katsuki gets nervous. What could she be thinking? Finally, she asks, "Skulls? Really, Katsuki? That's so tacky."

Katsuki barks a laugh and rolls his eyes. "I was in high school, Lonnie! Come on, give me a break!"

Lonnie grins back at him before grabbing her shirt and slipping it on. Fully dressed, she shrugs. "I guess this is it," she says. "Doesn't have to be though – we could still have fun sometimes."

Katsuki smiles. That's one thing he admires about Lonnie – her absolutely indomitable jovial attitude. "You're right," he says. "We could. I think I could do that."

She leans in and hugs him tight. He returns the gesture. She really does mean so much to him, and he's so grateful for her presence in his life. So this experiment of theirs didn't work out. That's okay.

It's okay.

"Thank you," he says into her ear. "I'm sorry."

She buries her face in his shoulder and shakes her head. "Don't apologize," she says. "Just promise me you'll work things out with Ochako when you get home. I better be invited to the wedding."

"That's entirely up to her," Katsuki says, "but … I'll try."

Lonnie pulls away and nods. "Good," she says. "I'll see you around?"

"Yeah," Katsuki says. "I'll text you."

"If you don't," Lonnie says as she backs toward the door, "I know where you live."

And then she's gone.

Katsuki sighs heavily as he hears the front door shut behind her. He sits there for several minutes, replaying their conversation in his head, before he finally stands. Ensconced in the safety of his bedroom, he doesn't bother dressing. Wearing only his boxers, he lifts the shirt from where Lonnie left it at the foot of his bed.

He caresses the soft, worn fabric, tracing the cracked and faded design with his eyes. With another sigh, he carefully – reverently – folds the garment before placing it in the back of his t-shirt drawer. When he turns around, his eyes catch on the snow globe Lonnie gave him. It glints in the sunlight shining through the window.

Katsuki walks over to it and gives it shake. The glitter dances, and he watches it for a moment before turning to gaze outside. The sunlight is warm against his face, and he feels something inside him unclench.

The skies are blue, and he's a cloud drifting in the wind. He doesn't know where he'll end up, but he knows everything will work out right in the end.

A/N:

Join me on tumblr (URL: karmahope) or my discord (discord. gg/ E5rT8kH)!

One more chapter until the official end, but I'll probably be writing some companion pieces I'll tack on the end here, since there's no good way to do a series on FFN like there is on Ao3.