There has always been an unreachable space between them, Katsuki thought as he stood from the inside of the chain-linked fence, separating the track field and the sidewalk.

Izuku always made his home on the ground, surrounded by friends and family who believed in the boy’s positivity, while Katsuki made his place in the sky, too far for anyone to ever reach, the distance between them forever a constant. The feeling of soaring over everyone else, the wind in his hair, all of the sort. He didn’t need anything else. He didn’t need anyone else. Before he had a stadium audience of hundreds, before he ever even had an audience of dozens, he’s always had one consistent audience: Izuku.

Days where he’d waste sweat preparing the same run, just to fail, and make no progress by the end of the day. And yet, like clockwork, Izuku comes back each day. Everyone on the team was used to it by now. Izuku, the resident fanboy of Bakugo Katsuki, but only from a distance. And right now? a set of eyes that watched him until the sun seemed to set. Well, not exactly.

Today, Katsuki finished up his practice run, with a bit of spare time to kill while his teammates did theirs. Usually, Katsuki doesn’t bother acknowledging Izuku presence, not even once. In fact, in all of these years that he’s been pole vaulting, the blonde never looked his way once, unless it was a passing glance. *Practice had barely started, and he had run out of water, Standing up, he jogged over to the trash can, to throw the crumpled plastic away, when for the first time, he actually took the time to notice Izuku’s presence. It was barely intentional.

The boy just happened to be somewhat adjacent to the trash can, body turned somewhat away as if he was just walking and decided to look to the side*. Katsuki wonders for just a second there, as to what Izuku was thinking about. Katsuki’s legs moved without his permission, suddenly feeling the urge to bother the other. "Ay” he called out, *"How long are you gonna stalk me for?"