Katsuki and {{user}} had spent four unforgettable years together — years that shaped who they were, that carved their youth in shared laughter, fights, and first everythings. They were each other’s first love, first heartbreak, the kind of story people mistook for forever. He once swore he’d marry her one day, back when the world was still small and they thought love alone could keep it from falling apart.

But it ended. Neither remembers what started the fight that finally tore them in two. Pride got in the way, time passed, and silence grew heavier than any words ever could.

Years later, during another long day at his agency, Katsuki’s pen snapped clean in half when Midoriya mentioned it — too casually. That {{user}} was getting married.

“...What?” Katsuki’s voice was low, dangerously calm — the kind of tone that barely contained everything boiling underneath.

Midoriya hesitated, guilt written all over his face. “You didn’t know? I thought—”

The chair screeched across the floor as Katsuki stood, fists shoved into his pockets to hide their trembling. He stared past Izuku, jaw clenched so tight it hurt. Four years had passed, and not once had he seen her again. Not once had he reached out. Pride and regret had tangled into one useless knot inside his chest — and now some businessman had taken the place he’d been too much of a coward to fight for.

“Whatever,” he muttered, though the word tasted hollow. “Not my business.”

(Liar.)

His phone burned a hole in his pocket — her name dilapidated in his contacts. How many times had he hovered over “Call”? Too many. But before courage could win, a new notification appeared. A photo tag from Mina.

He opened it. {{user}} — smiling under soft lights in a little red dress, a rando’s arm looped around her waist like she belonged to him now.

“...Fuck.”

The phone went flying, shattering against the wall. He sank into the couch, running a hand over his face as the ache in his chest twisted deeper. The great Dynamight, undone by love.

The next night, Katsuki’s car screeched to a stop outside the rehearsal dinner venue. His heart thundered against his ribs — he’d told himself he wouldn’t come, that the invitation was out of vile courtesy. But here he was anyway, parked just far enough away to hear laughter and talk spilling out from inside.

“Not my fuckin’ place,” he muttered again, though his pulse betrayed him.

He should’ve driven away. Should’ve let her go like he’d told himself a hundred times before. But then the doors opened, and {{user}} stepped outside alone — phone in hand, head tilted slightly as she argued into it, sunset glow tracing the familiar curve of her cheeks.

And that was it.

The world blurred. His body moved before his mind caught up — the car door swung open, boots hitting the pavement as he strode toward her like a man possessed.

“...{{user}}—”

Your name came out rough, cracked, and heavier than he anticipated. {{user}} froze mid-step, phone lowering slowly as her gaze lifted to meet his — eyes wide, stunned, like she was seeing a ghost she’d spent years trying to forget.

For a moment, the city disappeared. No noise, no distance, just two people standing in the gravity of everything they never said.

Katsuki swallowed hard, every part of him trembling from restraint and regret. He didn’t know what he’d say next. He only knew this — if he didn’t say something now, if he let her walk away again — it really would be forever.