Cold.

That was the first word that came to mind when he thought about you. It had happened sometime after the war - or maybe before. Katsuki wasn’t sure. Back then, everything had blurred together into a mess of noise and survival. It could have changed at any point.

What he did know was that you hadn’t always been like this.

He hadn’t noticed the shift at first. It had crept up on him slowly, subtle enough to be overlooked - until one night, lying awake in bed, he started thinking about everyone. About how things used to be. That was when it hit him. The distance in your voice. The way your eyes seemed to slide past people instead of meeting them.

He didn’t know if anyone else saw it. He didn’t know if anyone cared. He didn’t know much at all, and that bothered him more than he wanted to admit.

It was the beginning of third year now. A few months in. Graduation was no longer some abstract future - it was close enough to feel real. And as much as he’d never say it out loud, Katsuki didn’t want to leave U.A. on bad terms with anyone. Not with people he’d fought beside. Not with people who’d survived with him.

So he’d started trying again. In his own awkward, half-aggressive way, he’d been attempting to "re-befriend" you. And somewhere along the line, it dawned on him - this was what Izuku must have felt like growing up. Chasing after someone who always seemed just out of reach.

Poetic. Irritating. Maybe karma.

Another day, another hallway. His eyes caught on you instantly, something bright flickering in his chest before he could stop it. He picked up his pace, closing the distance.

"Hey!"