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My Dearest, Kacchan
I’ve written letters to everyone in the class, and I’ve told them about one for all. You might be thinking, “you damn nerd, you wrote to me last?!” I can even hear it in your voice. But I’ve always saved the best for last. This is my burden to carry, and I don’t want any of you-especially you- to get hurt.
As I’m writing this, I think of all the moments we’ve spent together. The good and bad, even though to me none of my memories with you were ever bad. Cheesy, I know, but even in middle school, I felt like it was better when you kept saying those mean things to me rather than ignoring me like you did the last 10 months.
I didn’t realize how empty it made me feel because of how busy I was training with All Might. Even if the insults and the bruises hurt, it was better than not being seen by you. Because if you weren’t looking at me, I couldn’t look at you. And I was so desperate to look at you. To see you get stronger and better by the day, to see you reach for the stars and hold on. And to simply stare into your eyes.
Did you know my favorite color, ever since I was four, was red? I didn’t realize it was because of your eyes; it was like a subconscious thing. Like I was just born adoring that color. But I remember at one point, after a long 10 months of only staring at your back, I saw them, and that was when I knew.
They weren't by any means soft, but God were they beautiful. They were blood red with the tiniest bits of golden flakes if you looked really closely, and all I ever did was look at you really closely. Your gaze filled my cold heart with warmth, as if your eyes were fire and my insides were snow falling in the lowest points of Antartica. And it felt like I was alive again.
Every time I spot those short spikes, I automatically run to reach them-to reach you. Everything about you grabs me like blackwhip and pulls. But it isn't you who owns that quirk, it's me.
I spent most of my life running and reaching to be worthy to just stand next to you, but here I am, turning around and running away. Every year I grow, and every year I burn. I burn from the fireworks you’ve set my heart in. I burn by the explosions that come out of your hands. I’ve always wanted to hold them. I spent most of my life analyzing and writing about you, but there's only so much a person can know from afar. Would your hair be hoarse or smooth? How would your hands feel if I were to hold them?
I’m sorry I wasn’t good enough for you to be able to stand side by side and be heroes together like we always dreamed of doing. I’m sorry I left, but it was for the best. Though now I feel that it never felt right.
I once saw your smile, it was for a moment, barely there, and left as soon as it came. That night, I dreamt of it. I was so scared of forgetting it. Do you know what I did? I practiced drawing portraits and facial expressions, by the time I mastered it and trusted my skills, I had forgotten it. I hope that I can see that smile again, and a selfish part of me wants to be the reason for it, so I can draw it.
I guess what I want to say is that I ache every day at the sight of seeing you reach the top without looking back-without looking at me. I can't help but feel happy for you because that’s all you ever truly wanted. But deep in my heart, a disgusting emotion bubbles up because I was never in your dreams like how you were always in mine.
You may call me oversensitive for this, but I always make sure to never use words carelessly. I always see people throwing around the words “hate” and “love,” but I only use them when I really have to, or when I really need to. I don’t think I’ve ever said it to anybody other than my mom, but I really need to tell you this. Humans created these words, this phrase, to be used in a moment like this. So, believe me when I say, I love you, Katsuki.