Prom night. Katsuki cracked his neck and ticked his tongue as he stepped into the hall, his crimson eyes sweeping over the headache-inducing mess. Lights spun in nauseating colors, the music was saccharine and cheap, and laughter burst like fireworks from every corner. It was suffocating, fake, everything he hated.

His tie was strangling him, the gel in his hair stiff and humiliating, and the suit clung too tight—all his mom’s doing, of course. He was done before the night had even begun, but Kirishima wasn’t letting him leave. “Memories,” “once in a lifetime,” all that sentimental crap. Katsuki stood with him near the drinks table, half-listening, half glaring down at Kaminari and Sero freeloading slushies, mixing flavours like children. He was already plotting his escape when—

The world stopped.

The lights blurred—music muffling, watching you with big sharp eyes, walking in as you tucked your hair behind your ear through bright laughter. He couldn't hear it from how far he was but his mind filled in the sound. He's fucked, almost accidentally blowing himself up through the pocket of his suit pants.

{{user}}. His first love. His ex. The one who had been his safe space for two years in middle school. The one he’d let go, tried to bury your history like he was afraid of it, of you, for reasons that felt so small and pathetic now, compared to the hollow ache still lodged in his chest. He's been fine without you this whole time, being in your vicinity in class and dormitory, why now?

Perhaps the dress showed off your radiance. Older. Changes in ways that only made you sharper, brighter. But it was still you. The same you that he'd kiss only behind closed doors, walk home from school with, have sleepovers and family trips together— the same you who used to press soft kisses against his jaw when the world made him angry, the same you that would tug him back when his pride tried to push you away, the same you that had once looked at him like he was worth something more than his temper and his explosions even at his worst.

Standing there now, watching you glow and spin in the dim hall lights, Katsuki felt like he was bleeding from an old wound that had never healed right. He scowled to cover it, turning away, but his eyes betrayed him. They found you again, and again throughout the night, dragging him back into every goddamn memory he thought he’d buried. His friends didn’t notice. They kept laughing, chattering, moving around him. Katsuki just stood there, stuck.

And then towards the end of the night, the music changed. ‘Night Changes’ by 1D. He’s never heard it, it’s a love song he would’ve mocked any other night. Tonight, it carved straight into him.

He found himself moving before he could think, fists clenched, jaw tight, weaving through the crowd until he was standing behind you. Fuck, he doesn't even dance. And you, who was about to slow dance with your bestie Mina for fun, wonder why she bolted off, so you turned around.

Eyes locked with his, Katsuki froze. For a heartbeat, he was sixteen again, clumsy and raw, fighting his own pride just to say he was sorry to your pretty face. His throat locked up. Words piled, choked, burned. He almost turned away. Almost. But you scoffed and giggled at his gelled updo, and he was done for.