“Do you think stars are unaware of their own existence?” The question comes naturally, mostly by mistake.
It’s a little cold, unpleasantly so, but you can’t really care. The sky stretches so beautifully over twilight, with diamonds that sparkle carrots unpriceable against black space, and dark gray clouds almost unseeable, but unmistakable. A beautiful sight.
The shiver that never makes it’s way to your skin waits beneath, threatens you to be on the brink of freezing, but never quite there, so you wait. You lay, with your back against the grass, and with a silent mind that can think of nothing but how beautiful. These moments that feel unreal, and almost a bit comical. The ones that will make home inside your mind and become core. So you bare it, and you wait for that shiver, that waits beneath your skin, and threatens you to be on the brink of freezing, but never quite there.
“You can’t miss what you’ve never had” katsuki says, idly. You never said anything about missing something, but then again he’s always known you a bit deeper than your words. Or maybe just understood what wasn’t necessarily face value. He just, understood that there was more, even if it wasn’t on purpose.
His calm demeanor is relaxing, and maybe a bit disarming. You don’t realize the change until it’s gone. You don’t realize the heat had gotten a little softer until it’s blazing again, but in this moment you don’t care. You know you’ll look back and be curious about the change, but for now you just live in it. For now you aren’t curious, and you think you’re okay with that.
Maybe that’s why he gets this way around you, too. Because you don’t say anything until it’s gone.
“What a joke” you say in return, because there is nothing much else to say. You don’t move, and neither does he. You sit there in silence, with your hands behind your head, digging into the vibrant greens of grass blades in your sweater and jeans that you hate wearing, but it’s easiest to put together when you’ve got nothing else to wear.
Can’t miss what you’ve never had, what a lie. A scheme. A trick. It reeks with dishonesty every time you long for the dreams of your childhood. Every time you look back, and miss what you never had in the first place.
Bakugou doesn’t say anything in response, and though you’re used to it, you can’t help but look over. Glance at the way he watches those sparkling diamonds like crystal sprinkles on an inky black cake. But who really puts sprinkles on cake? And who really cares? The curve of his nose is sensual, bathed in moonlight. The curve of his lips, too, is no different.
Can’t miss what you never had, what sick dishonesty.
“Do you think they’re aware of their own beauty?”
It leaves you before you can stop it, but you don’t mind. Unthoughtful words are usually the most honest. The ones that come without thinking, without conscious effort. They’re so real, something about them, and you don’t look away from him. He doesn’t look at you, though. Doesn’t move at all.
“They’re just stars” he says, then. And silently you thank him for his bluntness. Your lips purse in an uneven smile, and you roll your head back towards the sky. Just stars. Yeah, you guess he’s right. Burning up what comes near and living to their own gravitational pull. No feelings, no thoughts, just empty space and freedom. Must be so carefree.
“Yeah” you laugh softly. Not bitter, or sad. Maybe a little disappointed but it doesn’t show. You’re often disappointed by reality, in the most consequential of times. It’s easy to be upset by things that are real when you live in your head.
The truth of that, well, it’s a bit too much to unpack right now. Katsuki’s existence, next to you, you’re definitely aware of that. It’s a bit unlike your question, because his existence is not yours. You don’t live his life, and truthfully you don’t really wish to. Honestly, you don’t think you’d choose to live any other life if given the choice, but, he reminds you too much of a star. Maybe that’s what makes these nights so unspeakably intimate. The fact that these nights are spent observing his presence, and not the stars, up there, unaware of their existence. Just stars, but you’d argue they’re so much more.
He’s so much more. It’s painfully corny, but you can’t care. Not really.
Are you aware of you’re own beauty? But it doesn’t come this time. Mostly because it is a conscious thought. Something hesitant. Something you long to say, but can’t. It’s too personal. Too much, all at once. And yet, not enough. You’re not sure you’re ready to face it.
If you say it, it makes it real. Watching, from your own existence, as he shines, and blazes, and lives in the freedom of his own gravitational pull, unaware. You observe the way that he doesn’t say what he means, fully. As affection bleeds through deflectant eye rolls and belittling scoffs, pouring into the empty cracks and filling those empty spaces through actions where his words lack merit and meaning.
He growls, but it’s kind. Yells, but it’s only because he knows nothing else. It’s a queue, to his mind — like an uncontrollable trigger — to get aggressive when his heart feels soft, and his soul feels warm.
It was difficult not to fall, not to care. Difficult not to find beauty in the hot flames and flickering aggressiveness of katsuki. That same fire that burned bright and blazed down a war path of victory could revive frost bitten fingers and warm shivering bodies. Could light the way to salvation, shed hope on the most hopeless, against their will because he was simply just stronger. Strong heart, strong soul. It was only a matter of time until he was aware of it.
That’s how he differed from a star. He would be aware of it, someday. And there was nothing anyone could do about it. Nothing anyone could say to change the course so fated upon the beautiful blonde that lay next to you in lush green grass.
“You’re shivering” he said. He was glancing at you now, with vermillion eyes that made your chest feel hallow.
Can’t miss what you’ve never had. A trick only a fool would fall for. You knew better.
“Habit” you say, but he seems unconvinced. You relent looking back, because you’d probably shatter into a million pieces under the weight of those vermillion eyes. Under the pressure of knowing that this thumping of your heart was real. That the delight at the thought of sitting a little closer was honest.
“Maybe we should go inside” he says through lips unusually gentle, and still, you relent. Can’t look — won’t.
Any attempt to stabilize your breath is futile, but you still try. Shaking your head softly, and you give in.
“No let’s…let’s stay. Just for a little longer” you turn your head, met with rubies forged in something inhuman. Something unreal, and you bite your lip before turning back.
Just a moment of weakness, you think. Just a peak.
“Yeah, whatever. Just a lil’ and we’re going inside.” And there’s no room for argument, so you nod again.
Just a little, you think.
