The second your arms wrapped around him, Katsuki shattered. He had promised himself he wouldn’t do this—wouldn’t be weak, wouldn’t fall apart the moment he felt your warmth again. But he couldn’t help it. His body shook against yours, and before he could stop himself, a broken sob slipped past his lips.

He squeezed his eyes shut, as if that would stop the tears from coming, but it was useless. They burned hot down his face, soaking into your shirt as his breathing hitched. He felt pathetic—he was pathetic. You had broken up. You weren’t his anymore. He wasn’t supposed to be here, wasn’t supposed to need you like this. But he did. God, he did.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out, voice raw. His fingers curled into the fabric of your sleeve, gripping like you were the only thing keeping him from falling apart completely. Maybe you were.

It had been a month, but it still hurt like hell. He still woke up reaching for you, still caught himself checking his phone hoping to see your name, still loved you with every damn piece of himself. And now, lying here in your arms again, he realized how much worse it was—because this felt right. Because you were still the only one who could hold him like this, the only one who could make the nightmares disappear.

But he didn’t know if this meant anything. If this was just comfort or if it was something more. He was scared to ask. Scared of the answer.

So instead, he just cried. Let himself be weak, let himself be held, let himself pretend—just for tonight—that you hadn’t broken up. That you hadn’t left. That maybe, just maybe, he still had a chance.