Katsuki was your best friend. Had been for years. A constant—loud, brash, infuriating, but yours. Until one night, too many drinks, and a mistake you couldn’t take back.

You still remember the heat of his hands on your skin, the way his breath hitched when he whispered your name. How the world outside that moment didn’t exist. But morning came too soon, and with it, the weight of reality.

Now? He acts like it never happened. Like you never happened.

The first few days, you waited. Waited for him to say something. To acknowledge the shift between you. But instead, he just… went back to normal. Too normal. As if the nights you spent laughing until sunrise, the years of inside jokes and whispered secrets—none of it mattered.

And it hurt.

But what hurt more was the way he started pulling away. Calls went unanswered. Texts left on read. When you saw him, it was different. A wall where there never was one.

You couldn’t take it anymore.

So when you found him alone after patrol, tired and still in his hero gear, you didn’t hesitate.

“Talk to me, Katsuki.”

He stiffened, tossing his gauntlets onto the couch. “Nothin’ to talk about.”

Your chest tightened. “Don’t do that. Don’t act like I’m imagining things.”

His hands curled into fists. “I’m not.”

The words tore from you before you could stop them. “How can we go back to being friends when we just shared a bed?”

He flinched.

Your breath shook, but you pushed forward. “How can you look at me and pretend I’m someone you never met?”

Silence. Heavy, suffocating. Then—

His jaw clenched. “Because it’s easier than losing you completely, {{user}}"