Scars That Mend - Kiribaku Emergency Services AU

Rocks

Katsuki

I let myself into my small apartment after having half-ran-half-walked the two long miles home from Mic's. I threw off my combat boots and collapsed onto the couch, letting my head fall into my hands. As I watched the scruffy blonde strands shift with my heaving breaths, I found myself reeling over two things. 

One, Eijiro had asked me on a fucking date - using those exact words. He could have worded it any other way, but NO he had to go and drop the specific phrase that had been stuck with me for a decade. I had no control over my actions after those words escaped his lips. I'd just gotten caught up in the moment, reminded of a feeling I'd been chasing for eight years. 

Two, I'd done the thing I told myself I would never do. I wimped out. The moment we both calmed down from the sheer fucking explosiveness of that insane moment, I'd made the shittiest excuse in the book and bolted from the bar as fast as I could. Literally, bolted. I was still trying to catch my breath from the sudden exertion.

I was fucking scared and I knew it. Goddamn Eijiro with his stupid red hair, his goofy grin, God those eyes. I could only look at the man and I was transported back to high school with the boy of my dreams, who had unkempt hair and a cheesy grin at all times. I'd teased him mercilessly about his mess of a hairstyle, poking fun like a five-year-old with a crush. He'd eventually gotten the message in second year, when he gave me the goddamn lighter after seeing me eye it up. We spent every waking moment together: be it taking long drives, going for walks through sunflower fields in summer, showing up at each others' windows at all times of night, or practicing for the dumb sports team he'd only joined to spend more time with me. 

I'd been completely and utterly in love with him - to my chagrin, at the time. If I'd known back then that our relationship would vanish after graduation...I would have held on tighter to those precious moments, or thrown myself deeper into the relationship. Maybe then, that boy wouldn't have disappeared.

Maybe I could have kept hold of him for just a bit longer. 

But Eijiro...Eijiro wasn't that boy. 

That boy was gone. 

It wasn't like I hadn't waited. I'd done my time, slowly sinking deeper inside myself, not allowing anyone to get close to me. Eight painful years had passed. I'd shipped off to college a few months after the day it fell apart. For the first year, I waited, hoping by some miracle I'd get my love back. Then came a few months of bitter and fruitless attempts to forget about it - and Him. Eventually I'd thrown myself into my career, pushed myself through years of college and professional training, staying just close enough to home that if he came back...I was there. 

But he hadn't come back, and into his place stepped a foolhardy firefighter with playful eyes and a glowing heart of gold. Eijiro had appeared out of nowhere one day and I'd felt my heart stop. The glint in his garnet eyes was the same as the boy I'd grieved for eight years - but he wasn't that person. He was withdrawn, nervous, forcing smiles and polite conversation. I'd instantly pushed back those niggling hopes of Eijiro being like that boy I loved, until I found out he was willing to throw himself through flames to save strangers.

That was where my mind started to cross the line. 

The moment I compared Eijiro to Him, I knew I had to keep my distance. Eijiro was kind, caring gentle, yet at the same time passionate and curious. He was perfect: but he didn't deserve to be a replacement.

So I ran. Like a goddamn wimp.

"Fuck..." I muttered into my hands, rubbing my eyes furiously. I'd texted Mina on the way back - she was as helpful as anyone could be, given the situation. This was something that nobody could offer guidance about...only sympathy. I let out a shaky breath as I looked up at the lighter beside my keys on the tea table, carelessly discarded in my haste to sit down. Reaching for the small metal object, I scooped it into my trembling hands, gently running a finger along the jagged numbers of the date engraved onto the side.