Could've Been↲
H.E.R, ft. Bryson Tiller

"It could've been right but I was wrong. Only think 'bout you when I'm alone. Part of me that cared just know it's gone . . . "

≡ 

It's funny how a simple sentence could either mark the beginning or the end of something, how it could mark the beginning or the end of someone.     

Katsuki had finally had the pleasure of knowing what that meant three years ago. For the one sentence, a person never wanted to hear had been delivered to him: I'm sorry Katsuki, Izuku's gone . . . he's dead. Yet that had not been the case, had it? For his love, his life, his reason for existing had been alive the entire time and he hadn't known about it until this very month. That's when a new sentence had been given to him—one which held the promise of something new to be rekindled and a whirlwind of secrets constructed within it. Nevertheless, it was good.

Until it wasn't.

For that flame of hope and undying love that flickered aimlessly in the thick winds of his emotions had finally been blown to ash and embers. Because his love, his life, his reason for existing would never remember who he was. Izuku would never remember the day they first shared, I love you; he'd never remember their first kiss; their first time; the day Katsuki proposed. All those cherished memories—which Katsuki relied on for the past three years—would never be recollected on Izuku's end.

That part of him would forever be missing and there was nothing Katsuki could do to stop it.

The poor boy had been clinging onto his faith, thinking that in the end, it'd all work itself out. He clung onto it like a lifeline—because in some twisted sense it had become his lifeline. It was all Katsuki had left and the heart monitor and oxygen machine was beginning to falter, dwindle, crashing. Flatlining. Fuck, Katsuki was flatlining.

He won't remember.

Aizawa placed a hand on his shoulder, whispering words that never reached the surface of Katsuki's ears.

He won't remember.

The blond wheezed a gasp as he blinked back the tears. One drop rolled over his eyes and glossed them, glazing over any emotion he so desperately wanted to release.

He won't remember.

Katsuki turned to the door—inhaling deeply and shrugging his father off as he had done many times before. His fingers locked rigidly against the cold metal of the doorknob, sending arctic pulses through his heated body. Pressing his ear lithely against the door Katsuki bit his lip while listening in on Izuku gasping and whispering to himself in amazement.

"I'll see you later, dad." Katsuki's words soaked into the base of his throat, rendering him senseless.

"Kat—"

It was too late, for Katsuki had already walked in while shutting the door pointedly behind him. Ready to face his demon on the other side—or more like an angel.

Izuku was spinning around happily in the chair, gazing at all the buttons, dials, and levers the studio room had to offer. Gently gliding his fingers over the items, being mindful not the press too hard on them. The minute the click of the door shutting resonated through the room his head shot up to look at Katsuki in somewhat of a shocked daze, only to shower him with a dimpled smile not long after.

"This is where you record your songs?" Izuku asked, striding across the room to stand a few inches away from the blond. "This room probably costs more than my life," he pointed out, gesturing to the gold trimmings along the walls.

Which were real.

"I'd wager that to be true," Katsuki grunted, his eyes traveling elsewhere. Anywhere would be better than looking directly at Izuku . . . he couldn't bring himself to right now.

Izuku's head cambered. "Everything okay?"

"Everything's great," Katsuki smiled, and every so slightly he forced himself to gaze into those beautiful eyes. A little piece of him crumbled when he did so. "But I thought I'd show you where all the magic happens."

With that Katsuki's eyes tore away from the younger's as he walked briskly into the booth, placing the provided headphones over his ears. "Push the dark blue button!" he instructed once he was inside.

As excitement and anticipation threaded itself into the seams of Izuku's body, he did as he was told. His index finger pressing firmly into the blue button, he jolted in place when the soft thumping of the beat of the song began to fill the air. Seconds later Katsuki's voice shifted into perfect harmony with that beat, gliding along the trenches of the melody, picking through the tempo. Where the beat flowed his voice followed like a ship caught in a current.

It was truly a sight to behold. For Izuku could hear the passion behind the lyrics, the pain in his undertones, and the doubt in his low-notes. 

Just as his voice—Katsuki face also captured those emotions perfectly.

Quickly, not wanting to miss a single millisecond, Izuku reached down blindly on the floor for his satchel. His fingers looping against his sketchbook's spine and a pencil as he yanked them out. Then he began sketching. 

Just as Katsuki's voice cried out in coordination with everything else Izuku pencil did the same. His words went higher in tone the pencil glided up to meet his mouth movement. He harmonized certain areas and the pencil followed along. Painting the picture to Katsuki's lyrics.

Izuku didn't know how much time had passed since they had been in that booth. For they had breezed through about four or five songs, all of which he had listened to in a previous album that blond had released last year. However, within those songs, the young artist had managed to fill up just as many pages in his sketchbook—all of which contained a different expression of Katsuki with small side-notes.

While Katsuki began pulling the headphones off and wrapping them back in place, Izuku scanned over the console of buttons before pressing the one that read: talk (yes Kaminari you press and hold to talk)

The younger smiled to himself, slightly wondering who this Kaminari was and why the name sounded so familiar.

"That was amazing!" Izuku exclaimed, snorting when the scarlet-eyed boy jolted at the sound of his voice booming through the speakers. "Who taught you how to sing?" he asked quietly when Katsuki stepped out.

The elder froze.

A thirteen-year-old Izuku squealed as he rounded the corner of the house, nearly slipping as his socks glided across the ceramic tiles of the floor. Thunderous footfalls echoed and throbbed throughout the hallway—signaling his chaser was closing in on him at full-speed. A jolt of energy and euphoric bliss ran up his spine at the sound, loving the thrill it gave him to mess around like this.

It wasn't often he and Katsuki got to hang out like they used to.      

"I'm gonna fucking kill you, nerd!" the fifteen-year-old threatened, albeit Izuku heard the laughter lingering in his tone. "Get back here!"

The younger's erratic heartbeat had picked up in speed—for Katsuki had taken the time to wrap a strong arm around his waist—as he dashed into the boy's room. It was no secret the two obviously had feelings for each other. Katsuki's adopted siblings rather enjoyed taking the time out of their day to tease the two about the 'Sexual tension' they shared. However, despite the teasing; relentless flirting with one another; and a series of almost-kisses, the two never truly acted on their feelings.

"Okay, okay," Izuku grinned while Katsuki's grip tightened. "I yield."

A smirk painted itself across the surface of the blond's lips before hoisting the boy off his feet. "Yeah, but I don't," he murmured along the back of Izuku's neck.

"Kacchan," the nickname never ceased to bring a smile to his lips, "You better not."

"Or what?"

Izuku balled his fists at his side, his face flushing a bright hue of pink. "Or else . . . or else I'll . . . I won't give you any cuddles at night!" he threatened weakly.

"Hm," Katsuki fingers began to dance across the freckled teen's hips, up to his ribs and back down again. "As good as an argument that is . . . I think I'll take my chances. Besides, what you did was unforgivable,"

"All I did was ask you taught you to sing!" Izuku whined, biting back the soft giggle as he fell limply into Katsuki teasing touches. 

The elder pointedly kicked his door shut, slamming Izuku down onto his bed with a subtle bounce of the springs as he trapped the boy with his own body. "Exactly. Unforgiveable," and with that final note he began tickling Izuku from all angles.

While the question his best friend had asked was an innocent one, it had been directed at a boy who hadn't had an innocent lifestyle before his father adopted him at the small age of four. However, as his laughter filled the air like a harmonic tune Katsuki could not help but let his previous anxiety dissipate into nothingness. For everything about Izuku was like one of his songs—memorable, honest, and mellifluous to the ears. A precious melody.

One Katsuki never wanted to get out of his head. 

Snapping out of his daze, Katsuki brushed the memory aside. Refocusing on the awaiting boy before him. "Lots of people did, really. But the main person was my mother . . . my birth mother," he said, taking a seat in the second spinning chair beside Izuku.

"Oh, that's right—" Izuku pushed his sketches aside, "—you were adopted."

It was easy to find out this specific information about the scarlet-eyed man. Hell, he had a whole Wikipedia page dedicated to him, his upbringing, and his career. As most celebrities did.

"Right," he nodded in confirmation, eyes scanning towards the pages and pages of sketches of himself. Shakily, he brought his finger up to them—lightly dragging his index around them in hopes of not smudging the charcoal imprinted onto the pages. 

A thick lump of tears and grief welled in his throat as he flipped the pages. He choked it down.

"I think I did good on these," Izuku voiced softly after a few seconds, "Sorry, I hope you don't mind. I tend to get inspiration to draw when I'm listening to music, and you were singing so amazingly and I—"

Katsuki's hand had shot up to press against Izuku's mouth. "Don't. They're . . . amazing," he hummed, never meet the younger's eyes—despite him so desperately wanting to. "I don't know if I ever mentioned this but . . . I had a friend who used to draw. It's kind of refreshing to see these,"

"This friend you keep mentioning," Izuku glanced at Katsuki through a veil of thick lashes. "something bad happened to him, didn't it?" 

He was breaking. If Izuku kept this up he would crumble, fuck, he couldn't afford to crumble.

"Yeah," Katsuki choked out, his throat constricting tightly together.

Izuku's hand glided across the elder's warmly. "If you could go back and do things differently with him . . . would you?" 

The elder's shoulders began to shake, arching over as his head hung low. And just like that, the past twenty years of him being alive came flooding back to him—crashing over his sense in a vortex of regrets and mistakes. 

Tears brimmed the corners of Katsuki's eyes. Shimmering like pearly lakes of scarlet. "Yeah I would do one thing differently," he whispered. 

Izuku—seemingly sensing Katsuki's pain—wrapped an arm around him. "Like what?" 

That's when he did it . . . gazing directly into Izuku's eyes once more. And he shattered.

"The last time I saw him I would have told him I loved him . . ." 

The younger stiffened, eyebrows pulling together as his lips parted with an audible gasp escaping them. A dulled, pounding, ache began to arise in the forefront of his head—a slither of a memory passing through before he inexorably found himself refocusing on Katsuki.

"Kacchan, I love you!"

Izuku shook his head as if shaking away the thought. "Is it too late to tell him now?" he asked softly.

"I think so," he nodded.

It was quiet between the two after that, nothing but the soft beeping of machinery and nearly silent sniffling of Katsuki's crying filled the atmosphere shrouding them. And as Izuku's grip on Katsuki tightened the more his heart hurt and went out to the boy. With each crystalized teardrop that coated the side of his shirt the more he wished he could take away his pain.

For Katsuki had helped Izuku in a number of ways . . . and the boy wanted nothing more than to do the same for him in return. 

"Hey," his finger curled beneath the elder's chin, lifting it upwards. "I may not have known your friend but—I'm sure if he was here right now he wouldn't want you beating yourself up for this. Whatever you did . . . or didn't do . . . you need to learn to forgive yourself for it. Cherish the memories you have versus dwelling on the ones you could have gotten,"

There was something so sincere and calming about Izuku's words as he spoke them, something so reassuring as they locked in on Katsuki's ears. Because little did Izuku know he was that friend. The two sat there for what seemed like forever in their minds. Izuku had allowed Katsuki to process what he had said—watching with slight worry yet admiration as the elder's features pulled and relaxed a myriad of times. Thinking. Dwelling. Realizing. 

Izuku was right, which came to little surprise on Katsuki's end—for the boy was always right. 

He had allowed himself to slip down a rabbit hole of worries, regrets, and grief. And while he had promised himself some nights ago he'd learn to appreciate what was right in front of him . . . he had failed on his self-promise. Until now.

No, now he would do everything in his power to be a better person. For himself and for Izuku—even if the boy had no recollection of their past. Or if he ever will again. He has his second chance right beside him and he'd be damned if he let that go.

But on the other hand, Katsuki knew this would not be an easy task to go through . . . letting go of years of regrets and sorrows.

"I don't know if I can do it by myself," he admitted, the sentence was laced with bile and defeat. "Fuck . . . It's easy to forgive other's but . . ."

"Forgiving yourself means owning up to your faults and learning how to work past them." Izuku smiled bittersweetly, "We're all human and we all make mistakes. And yeah, sometimes we never get a chance to right those wrongs with the person we did them to but . . . At least we still have ourselves, right?"

Katsuki looked down as Izuku continued. "And besides . . . who said you had to do all that alone?" he grinned widely.

"The numerous amounts of movies and books who said this type of shit is a process 'That works better when you're alone so you can find yourself'," Katsuki drawled in a joking manner.

"Yeah but usually the main character is wrong and they almost die doing some stupid shit like that," Izuku voiced smoothly. "And if you die who will I draw for my semester assignment?"

The blond chuckled lowly, mock-shuddering with a smile. "I simply can't bear the thought of you drawing someone else!" he exclaimed in a haughty voice.

"C'mon," Izuku laugh, nodding to the door. "I don't know about you, but some food sounds good right about now. And coffee,"

"Good idea,"

And with that the two were off once more, driving across the city to the coffee shop of Katsuki's choosing. The very same one where Izuku and his friends went after classes ended; the thought of his friends made Izuku's stomach twist into knots.

He missed hanging out with them dearly, even if they were going to some outdated club or bar-hopping. Sure, he still saw them around campus and during classes—texting or calling them whenever he got the chance. But it still didn't change the fact that he felt as though he were being somewhat of a rotten friend.

"You okay?" Katsuki asked as they waited in line, sensing the boy's mood shift.

Izuku nodded, gazing out the large windows of the shop. "Yeah . . . just thinking." 

"Hey," the elder nodded his head toward the front door, "Aren't those your friends?"

Katsuki had seen only part of the group briefly on Izuku's social media account, never looking long enough to notice distinct features—but just enough so he'd know what they looked like in general. He was rather good with never forgetting a face, seeing as though he had been to so many televised interviews, gatherings, etc. 

"Uraraka, Iida!" Izuku exclaimed, bounding out of his place in line and wrapping his arms around them both.

Uraraka beamed, a dimple popping out on one cheek. "Well, there you are Mr. Famous," she scoffed, "Next time you decide to up and date a celebrity mind giving us a heads up?"

"Shh," the freckled male placed a finger to his lips, motioning towards his disguise. "I don't want to draw too much attention to myself."

Iida snorted. "Right, because having green hair isn't drawing any attention to yourself,"

The three laughed while Izuku's eye wandered around. "Hey, where's—?"

"—Shoto Todoroki," Katsuki forced out, pulling his glasses down as the duel-haired male walked through the door.

While Izuku had no clue what the hell was going on . . . he knew it couldn't be good.             

Hello Cricket Cultists!!

And the plot only mf thickens from here Y'all XD

Theories???

Comments??

Questions??

Honestly, when you get the chance listen to this song, hell, all the songs from this book. I really feel like some of the lyrics kind of go with what Katsuki's thinking--even if it is kind of a breakup song.

I FINALLY MOVED INTO MY NEW HOUSE GUYS. It's hella big, but it's in the next town over. Ummmm love you guys!

Until we meet again!!!