To my dearest, Katsuki

𝘞𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘞𝘢𝘯𝘵

Tana sat on the cold, unforgiving stairs of the Heights Alliance, the chill of the evening air prickling against her bare arms. She had rummaged through the disarray in her dorm room but couldn't locate her jacket, leaving her feeling uncomfortably exposed. With her face buried in her hands, she took long, shaky breaths, trying to steady her racing heart. Ten minutes had passed since she texted Denki, urging him to meet her outside. Doubts crept in, and an anxious flutter swirled in her stomach as she questioned whether he would actually show up. She knew she couldn't keep lying to him—her heart wouldn't allow it any longer.

The heavy door to Heights Alliance creaked open, and Tana's head snapped up. Denki emerged, still clad in his pajamas, his tousled hair sticking up at odd angles. Concern etched into his features, he fidgeted nervously with his fingers deep in his pockets.

"You said we needed to talk?" he asked quietly, his voice laced with uncertainty.

Tana nodded, her heart aching as she patted the space on the stairs beside her. Denki shuffled over, his footsteps slow and hesitant, as if he were afraid of what lay ahead. He settled down next to her, his gaze falling to the ground as she anxiously picked at her fingers, each sigh escaping her lips a weighty confession. When she finally looked up at him, tears brimmed in her eyes, and in that moment, Denki understood the gravity of the conversation they were about to have. His head dropped, and he nodded, trying to process the impending storm.

"Did I do something?" His whisper was barely audible, filled with a vulnerability that cut Tana deeply. He never saw himself as deserving of her. In his eyes, he was just an average guy, overshadowed by her beauty, strength, and intellect.

"No, baby, you did nothing wrong." Tana's voice trembled as she reached out, placing a comforting hand on his knee. "It's just..." The words caught in her throat, forcing her to take a moment. "I haven't been honest with you, Denks. I'm sorry."

Denki entwined his fingers with hers, rubbing her knuckles with his thumb, trying to bridge the gap of unspoken fears.

"Is there someone else?" His voice cracked, the insecurity clawing at him. The thought gnawed at his insides, a fear that someone better had taken his place in her heart.

"Not exactly." Tana pressed her fingers to her face, as if trying to conceal the truth of her emotions.

His expression morphed from confusion to realization as comprehension dawned. "You love someone else." His words fell like stones into the silence, and tears began to glide down his cheeks, each drop a testament to his heartache.

Tana turned away, the tremor of her lip giving way to a flood of sobs. "I'm so sorry, Denki!" She gripped the fabric of his pajama pants tightly, as if clinging to the last threads of their shared memories.

"Did you ever... you know?" Denki's hand traveled across her back, seeking comfort in the shared moment of vulnerability.

She sat up, quickly wiping her tears and shaking her head. "Never. He doesn't even...," she sniffled, smoothing the wrinkles from Denki's pants as if trying to erase the pain that now defined their reality. "He doesn't even like me back, in any way."

A heavy ache settled in Denki's chest; a certain name loomed large in his mind. "Bakugo." The realization flickered in his eyes, meeting hers with a mixture of sadness and understanding.

Her face contorted as fresh tears welled, and she slowly nodded. He sighed, pulling her into an embrace, seeking solace amidst the turmoil.

"When did you figure it out?" he asked, almost as if it hurt him to voice the question.

"I always knew," she whispered, feeling the hiccup of his breath against her shoulder as he tried to maintain composure.

"Did you ever love me?" The question hung in the air, fragile and raw, his voice barely above a whisper.

Tana turned to face him, her hands cupping his face gently, her thumb brushing against his wet cheeks. "Oh, baby," she said softly, the sincerity of her words filling the void. "Of course, I do." She leaned her forehead against his, the warmth of their connection flickering in the cold night.

"I love you, Denki. That's why I'm doing this," her words broke with emotion. "I love you, Denki, but I'm not right for you. You deserve someone who wants you."

Denki nodded, though his heart ached. He understood, even if it hurt them both. A sense of gratitude welled within him for her honesty—a promise of truth instead of lies suffocating them.

"Does this change anything? Can we still be friends?" His gaze searched hers, desperately wanting to hold onto something, anything.

Tana shook her head, warmth returning to her features despite the sadness. "Of course not, Denki. You've been my best friend my entire life. This is just a bump, and we'll get through it."

With a heart heavy yet somehow lighter, Denki stood, wiping the remnants of tears from his face, each motion a small loss. "I think I'm going to go to bed," he said quietly. "Goodnight, Tana."

"Goodnight, Denki." Her whispered reply hung between them like a fragile thread.

Alone on the stairs, Tana sat for another fifteen tormenting minutes, silent tears streaming down her cheeks. She felt unworthy of Denki's love—a love that had illuminated her darkest moments. Longing for someone who didn't reciprocate such feelings only deepened her sorrow, twisting into a painful paradox. She stood up, wiping her face with her tank top before trudging back inside.

A soft chuckle resonated from the couch, halting her steps. Katsuki lounged casually, observing her with a disdainful smirk that twisted the knife further into her chest.

"You look fucking stupid." He commented, his voice dripping with condescension as he surveyed her disheveled state.

Tana rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Shut the hell up," she muttered, brushing past him, eager to escape his gaze.

Just as she reached the stairs, her resolve wavered. She turned to glance back at Katsuki, only to be met by his piercing crimson eyes, and for a fleeting moment, she felt exposed under their scrutiny. Shaking her head to dispel the moment, she retreated to her dorm, collapsing onto her bed. Thoughts of Denki, Katsuki, and the turmoil within herself spiraled around her mind relentlessly.

She loathed feelings—every tangled thread of love, longing, and heartache. She hated it all.