I Just Opened This Godforsaken App - Blog Posts

the box is heavier than you remember. or maybe it’s just you. maybe it’s the weight of the years, of everything you lost, of everything you never got to say.

you don’t even know why you’re doing this. you should’ve just left it buried in the back of your closet, let it collect dust, let the past stay where it belonged.

but you didn’t.

and now here you are, sitting cross-legged on your bedroom floor, sifting through pieces of a life that slipped through your fingers.

old movie tickets, a tiny stuffed keychain he won for you at a festival, a wrinkled napkin with katsuki’s handwriting telling you to stop being an idiot and eat something.

you laugh, but it doesn’t reach your eyes.

your fingers tremble when they brush against the stack of photos at the bottom. a part of you wants to put them away, to close the box and shove it back where you found it. but your hands move before you can stop them, flipping through moments frozen in time.

and then you see it.

the one picture that guts you.

it’s nothing special. not posed, not planned. just a random snapshot of you and katsuki, sitting side by side. you’re talking, mid-sentence, probably rambling about something, and he—

he’s looking at you.

not annoyed, not exasperated, not even pretending not to care.

he’s looking at you like you were everything. like you hung the damn stars. like he could sit there forever, just listening to you, just being with you.

your hands shake as you run a thumb over the faded edges, the ache in your chest growing unbearable.

because you don’t have this anymore.

you don’t have him anymore.

and maybe, in another life, in another timeline where things played out differently, where you fought harder, where he stayed—maybe you’d still have the chance to see him look at you like that.

but in this life, all you have is a picture and the ghost of what could have been.