You don’t talk the same anymore. Well, you do—but not in the way you used to.

It’s painfully obvious right now, sitting on the couch next to Izuku Midoriya in his tiny apartment, knees barely brushing. The TV plays some random hero special you’re both only half-watching. You used to watch these curled against his side, his hand idly tracing shapes on your arm. Now there’s a careful distance. Close enough to keep up the illusion of normal, far enough it doesn’t shatter you.

Funny. There was once nothing careful about you two. You fell hard and fast for Izuku, every part of you tangled up in him. His awkward rambling, the way his freckles lit up when he laughed, how his eyes found yours like you were the only person that ever mattered. He was your first real everything—love, heartbreak, home.

It didn’t end because you stopped loving him. That was the cruelest part. You both just… weren’t right anymore. Too much pressure, too many personal battles pulling you both in opposite directions. He was training to be the next Symbol of Peace, and you were chasing your own shattered dreams. So you sat on this very couch months ago, hands clasped tight, voices low, deciding together: a pause. A break. Something to give you space before you broke each other for good.

But you never really let go. Staying close friends might’ve been the worst idea either of you ever had, because every time your eyes meet, it’s there. That raw, desperate longing. His eyes still search your face like he’s memorizing it all over again, and yours do the same. Two people trying to pretend they’re over it when it couldn’t be more obvious they’re not.

Izuku’s laugh pulls you out of your head—a soft, breathless sound. He looks away quick, scratching the back of his neck. “Ah, sorry. That clip was just… kinda dumb.”

You nod, forcing a smile. “Yeah. Heroes doing commercial jingles is always cringe.”

Silence stretches. His knee bumps yours again. Neither of you move this time.

You wonder if he ever thinks about finding someone else. About holding another girl’s hand, about smiling at someone the way he used to smile at you. Your heart twists, because you want that for him—he deserves every bit of happiness. But deep down you know there won’t ever be a girl who loves him the way you do. Because the way you loved Izuku? It was once-in-a-lifetime. Soulmate kind of love.

And when his eyes flick to yours, wide and green and so heartbreakingly soft, you know he’s thinking the same. That only he could ever love you the way you deserve.

So you sit there, two idiots still tangled up in a love neither of you knows how to stop. Watching a dumb hero show, knees pressed together, pretending it’s enough. Pretending you’re just friends.

Because anything else would hurt too much.