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All Might is Here!

All Might is Here!

Izuku's alarm clock blares through his room as he squirms to turn off the annoyingly loud ringtone. He groans as he slowly gets up from his bright All Might sheets. He looks over at his calendar with pictures of him and his mom Inko, this month it shows him hugging his mom behind the Kiso mountains. He smiles at the picture, looking at what day it was: September 5th. Like any other Friday… He heads over to the closet in his dorm, while it's relatively small, still he's grateful since it was away from home. He picks up a plain grey shirt with a pair of darkwash jeans, he heads over to open his window to get some fresh air. A cold gush of wind blows through, he leaps back.

“Shit,”  he mumbles as he throws his hands up as if  he was about to surrender. He walks over to his coat-rack that’s filled up with plenty of hoodies and sweatshirts, after realizing September is more chilly than society makes it seem. He picks up his favorite dark red hoodie and throws it on. He walks over to go pack his backpack and starts heading out of his dorm.

After walking down 2 flights of stairs he meets up with Ochako who is for some reason wearing a pink graphic cropped shirt with a skirt.

“Hey!” Izuku says smiling ear to ear to suddenly look confused and concerned. “W-wait! How are you not freezing! It’s so cold out you might turn into an icecube! Are you sure you're going to be fine?!” He says bombarding the poor girl with questions. 

“Hi Izuku! Oh, don’t worry about me! I grew up in the more northern part of Japan so this is basically nothing to me!” Ochako said sheepishly as she waves her arms side to side, indicating she’s fine. They both turn their heads to see Katsuki and Mina yelling loudly.

“YOU SHIT, I’M GOING TO BLOW YOUR FACE OFF RACCOON EYES!!!!” Katsuki yells loud enough that it could probably wake up the whole dormitory.

“Please!!!! Your love life is so badddddd. I'll run the whole account for youuu!!” Mina jumps up and down while begging Katsuki, while trying to give her best ‘puppy dog eyes’ to him. 

Izuku turns to Ochako with a worried and “it's way too early for this” face, they both make eye contact then she turns her head down and shakes it. Izuku thinks to himself, I wonder what they're talking about and what got Kachan so riled up in the first place. Mina is probably trying to hook him up with some girl in class 1-B again like she has been doing the past 2 weeks. 

Izuku sighed and shook his head as Katsuki stormed past, still throwing verbal explosions Mina’s way. Ochako chuckled nervously, scratching the back of her neck.

“Guess Katsuki already had his morning coffee,” she muttered.

Izuku didn’t respond, though he smiled weakly at her joke. His mind lingered, as it always did, on that sharp, familiar voice. He quickly shoved the thought down before it could bloom into something he wasn’t ready to acknowledge.

Instead, he followed Ochako out toward the street.

“Hey, you want a ride?” she asked cheerfully, jingling her keys. “I managed to borrow my mom’s car for the week. It’s not pretty, but it gets us to school faster than the train.”

Izuku’s eyes widened, his freckles almost glowing with excitement. “A-ah, really? That’d be amazing, Ochako! Thanks so much!” His voice cracked a little, but the joy behind it was undeniable.

Ochako grinned, puffing out her chest proudly as if she’d just pulled off some heroic feat. “Of course! What kind of friend would I be if I let you walk all the way back by yourself?”

They walked out of the building side by side, shoulders brushing occasionally. Izuku couldn’t help but notice how natural it felt, like they’d been doing this forever. The late afternoon sun painted everything gold, and their laughter carried across the quiet street.

Surprisingly, Izuku realized he’d never actually seen Ochako’s car before. That changed quickly when she stopped in front of a bright, shiny red Kia Soul.

“I can’t believe you drive a bright red car, a Kia Soul, as a matter of fact!” Izuku chuckled, shaking his head. Something about it was so… perfectly her. Outgoing, quirky, impossible to miss.

“Red??” Ochako’s head snapped around so fast her ponytail whipped the side of her neck. She crossed her arms with a dramatic little huff. “It’s orange . Burnt orange. I keep telling people that! Everyone always calls it red!”

Izuku blinked, trying not to laugh but failing miserably. “Ochako, that is definitely red.”

“It is definitely not,” she shot back, jabbing her finger toward the paint job. “Look at it in the sun, it's obviously orange!”

Their mock argument lasted through unlocking the doors and buckling their seatbelts, dissolving into helpless giggles when Izuku mimicked her huffy expression.

By the time the car started up, the mood was already lighter. The drive itself was a little bumpy, her suspension wasn’t the smoothest, but the air inside the car was filled with warmth. Music hummed softly from the radio, and their conversation never seemed to pause.

Ochako’s eyes flicked toward his backpack when they hit a stoplight, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “Is that… another All Might notebook?”

Izuku nearly jumped out of his skin, scrambling to shove the notebook deeper into the bag. “N-no! That’s not what it looks like! It’s-it’s just notes, just regular notes!” His ears turned redder than the car well, the “burnt orange” car.

Ochako leaned an elbow on the steering wheel, laughing so hard tears pricked her eyes. “Deku, you’re hopeless ! You’re going to need a whole library just for your All Might collection one day.”

“S-stop exaggerating!” he sputtered, but the smile tugging at his lips gave him away.

By the time they pulled into the U.A. parking lot, the heaviness of the morning had completely melted away. The nerves, the doubts, gone, replaced with easy laughter and the comforting sense that maybe, just maybe, things didn’t have to be so hard with her by his side.

——

The classroom buzzed with its usual pre-class chatter, a low hum of voices that filled every corner. Desks scraped against the floor as students shifted, bags thumped onto tabletops, and the faint scent of pencil shavings and floor polish lingered in the air. Izuku slid carefully into his seat behind Katsuki, setting his bag down a little too quietly, as though silence could make him invisible.

He tried not to notice the way sunlight streamed in through the tall windows, spilling like liquid gold across Katsuki’s desk. Don’t look… don’t look… Izuku told himself, but his eyes betrayed him anyway. The light caught on the edge of Katsuki’s arm, traced sharp lines along his shoulders, and set his ash-blond hair ablaze. He looks… untouchable. Like he belongs in the sun.

Katsuki leaned back in his chair, posture deceptively relaxed, though Izuku knew better. Even sitting still, he looks ready to explode. Like he’s daring the world to challenge him. His crimson eyes were fixed straight ahead, gleaming in the light like polished rubies. Hard. Brilliant. Unyielding. He thought his heart might bust.

Izuku’s chest tightened. Why do I always notice these things? Why do I keep staring like this?

And then, for the briefest moment, Katsuki’s eyes shifted. A flicker, sharp as a blade. Their gazes locked.

Izuku froze. His pulse slammed in his ears. He saw me, he knows I was staring, oh no, oh no, oh no. Heat rushed up his neck to his cheeks, burning him alive. He ducked his head so fast it nearly smacked the desk, shoving his hand into his bag as if searching for something desperately important. His fingers fumbled over notebooks and pens, grasping nothing. Just act normal, just look busy. He’ll think I wasn’t… he’ll think I wasn’t watching him.

But the weight of that ruby gaze still pressed against him, heavy and undeniable, as though Katsuki hadn’t looked away yet.

The seconds stretched, unbearably taut.

And then, shattering the silence, Kirishima bounded to the center of the room. His booming voice rose above the chatter, full of bright, unstoppable energy. His wide, shark-toothed grin seemed to ignite the whole room, pulling everyone’s attention away.

Izuku let out a shaky breath, shoulders slumping just slightly. Thank goodness…

“ALRIGHT, LISTEN UP, GUYS! Party this weekend at my place!” Kirishima’s voice boomed across the room like a battle cry. He threw his arms wide as though he were announcing the start of some grand festival. “Everyone’s invited, and you can bring a plus one if you want!”

The classroom erupted instantly. A chorus of cheers, groans, and overlapping questions spilled through the air. Mina squealed, practically bouncing in her seat as she pumped both fists in excitement. Kaminari slapped his desk like he’d just won the lottery. Even the quieter students perked up, chatter rising like a wave.

Ochako’s eyes lit up with that familiar spark of warmth, and she leaned closer to Izuku, her shoulder brushing his. “You should come with me, Deku,” she said brightly, her voice cutting through the chaos. “It’ll be fun! And… well, Toga already called dibs on me for something, but… you’re my plus one.”

Izuku blinked, his mind tripping over itself. Me? With her? His throat went dry, but the nervous smile still tugged at his lips. “O-okay! I’ll go.”

Behind him, Katsuki let out a sharp tch, low and sharp enough to sting. Izuku didn’t dare turn, but he caught the faintest mutter that sounded suspiciously like, “Dumb nerd.” His heart gave a confusing twist at the sound. Why does he always…

Class eventually settled, though the buzz of the upcoming party lingered in every whispered side conversation. During English, Present Mic called on Izuku to read a passage aloud. Izuku stood, clutching the book with clammy fingers, his voice steady for the first few lines.

And then he faltered.

His eyes had wandered again. Katsuki sat a row ahead, his back impossibly straight, shoulders squared like a soldier at attention. His crimson eyes were narrowed in concentration, scanning the page in front of him. The light streaming through the window caught them at just the right angle, setting them ablaze. They glittered like garnets cut against stone unyielding, brilliant, dangerous.

Izuku’s voice trailed off, the words dissolving into silence.

“Midoriya!” Present Mic barked, his voice cracking through the air like thunder. The class snickered, a few stifled laughs echoing in the room. Heat rushed up Izuku’s neck as he scrambled to find his place again, stumbling over the rest of the line in a rush.

Katsuki didn’t even turn around. His head remained fixed forward, expression unreadable. But just for a moment, just long enough to make Izuku question himself, he swore he saw the corner of Katsuki’s mouth twitch.

Was that… a smile?

Izuku sank back into his seat, clutching the book to his chest as though it could hide the flush spreading across his face. His heart hammered, torn between relief and something he didn’t quite want to name.

The rest of the day slipped by in a blur, though Izuku could hardly keep track of anything his teachers said. His notes were messy, half the words written sideways in the margins because his thoughts kept wandering. Every time he tried to focus, flashes of crimson eyes, the faint twitch of a mouth, or Ochako’s cheerful “you’re my plus one” bubbled up again. By the time the last bell rang, he felt wound tight, nerves buzzing under his skin like static.

The hallway flooded with students, voices overlapping, everyone still talking about the party. Mina was already plotting decorations, Kaminari bragged loudly about being the “life of the night,” and Kirishima promised that there would be “more food than anyone could possibly eat.” The air itself seemed charged, full of expectation.

Izuku walked a little behind the group, adjusting the strap of his bag. He could feel the weight of everything pressing in at once, the promise of the party, Ochako’s invitation, Katsuki’s muttered insult that somehow still echoed in his ears. Why does it bother me so much when he says stuff like that? It shouldn’t. It’s just Kacchan being… Kacchan. But… that look in his eyes…

He shook his head quickly, cheeks heating. Focus, Midoriya. It’s just a party. Just classmates hanging out. Nothing more.

Yet as they spilled outside into the late afternoon sun, he couldn’t shake the mix of nerves and excitement twisting in his stomach. He wasn’t sure what he was more anxious about: standing awkwardly at the edge of the room while everyone else danced and laughed, or catching himself staring again, unable to look away from the boy who always seemed to burn brighter than the rest.

When Izuku reached the dorms, the familiar building rose before him, windows glinting in the light. Students scattered inside, already buzzing about outfits and playlists. He paused for a moment on the steps, taking a breath. Tonight is the party. Later he’d have to face it all, the laughter, the energy, the expectations.

And maybe, just maybe… Katsuki’s eyes again.

Izuku pushed open the doors, heart beating faster than he wanted to admit.

—

The door to his room clicked shut behind him, muffling the distant sounds of classmates still lingering in the hall. The faint thrum of music from someone’s phone bled through the walls, laughter drifting up the stairwell, but here it was just quiet. Too quiet.

Izuku tossed his bag onto the chair by his desk, the thud oddly final. His room, usually a sanctuary, suddenly felt both comforting and too small all at once. His chest rose and fell in uneven breaths as his eyes wandered the familiar corners. It’s just a party. Just a normal party. Everyone else goes without overthinking it, so why do I feel like I’m about to face an exam?

He opened his closet and froze. His hands hovered, brushing over fabrics, hoodies, uniforms, training clothes. Everything felt wrong. Too plain, too wrinkled, too… him. What would I even wear to something like this? Mina would show up in something bright and bold, Kaminari in something loud and flashy. And me? Just Izuku in another sweatshirt?

The memory of Ochako’s bright smile flickered in his mind, her cheerful voice echoing “You should come with me, Deku. It’ll be fun!” That thought steadied him, just enough to keep moving. He tugged out a crisp white t-shirt. Simple. Clean. Not impressive, but not sloppy either. Paired with his cargo pants, it was at least casual enough to fit in.

He laid the shirt over his desk, running his fingers across the fabric, trying to picture himself in a crowd, laughing, talking, belonging. If I keep my head up… if I just don’t overthink… maybe no one will notice I don’t really know what I’m doing.

In the mirror, he pulled the shirt over his head, smoothing it against his chest. He tugged the waistband of his pants into place and stared at his reflection. His curls, of course, were sticking up in too many directions to count. With a groan, he grabbed a comb, tugging and coaxing until they finally fell into some semblance of order. He frowned anyway. It’ll never look right… but maybe it doesn’t have to.

On his desk, his All Might keychain glinted faintly in the lamp light. Izuku picked it up, rolling the familiar weight in his palm, thumb brushing over the scratches from years of being carried around. “Wish me luck,” he whispered, a nervous smile tugging at his lips. He set it back down gently, like leaving behind a good luck charm.

The clock ticked on, each second louder than it had any right to be. Outside, the sky had deepened to a velvet violet, the last streaks of sun fading into night. His heart thudded with anticipation, nerves and excitement tangled together like wires sparking. Grabbing his jacket, he stepped out into the hall. His footsteps echoed too loud in the empty corridor, each one carrying him closer to something unknown.

Tonight is going to be different.

—-

Katsuki sat on the edge of his bed, elbows digging into his knees, fists loosely clenched. The door to his room was shut tight, blocking out the muffled thrum of voices from the hall. He could hear the faint bass of someone testing party music down the corridor, laughter spilling out every few seconds. His scowl deepened.

Stupid extras. Acting like this party is the damn event of the century.

His room was quiet, too quiet. Normally, that was fine. He liked quiet. Quiet meant no one bothering him, no one trying to get in his space. But tonight, the silence pressed against him like a weight, leaving him alone with thoughts he didn’t want to entertain.

He dragged a hand through his hair, strands sticking up at sharper angles. That nerd. Always gawking at me like I’m some damn puzzle to solve. The memory snapped back uninvited: green eyes staring, wide and intense, catching the sunlight. He’d felt it, felt the burn of Izuku’s gaze even before he turned his head.

And when he did turn, Izuku panicked like a kid caught stealing candy, diving for his bag with that pathetic scramble of his. Katsuki should’ve laughed. Should’ve smirked at how predictable it was. Instead, he’d had to clamp his jaw tight just to keep the corner of his mouth from twitching.

Why the hell should I care if he’s staring? He ground his teeth, glaring at the floor. He’s always been like that. Always watching. Always scribbling notes like I’m something worth studying. Like I’m not already ten steps ahead of him.

His crimson eyes flicked toward the mirror across the room. His reflection stared back, sharp lines, honed muscle, a posture that demanded attention. He snorted. Maybe he just can’t help it. Maybe even that damn nerd knows power when he sees it.

Still… the heat that curled low in his chest when he thought about those green eyes didn’t feel like victory. It felt… different. Unsettling.

He shot up from the bed, pacing once, twice across the room. The motion didn’t help. His thoughts trailed after him like shadows. And what the hell was that with Round Face? Inviting him like it was nothing. Like Deku belongs at some party with the rest of them. He clicked his tongue, frustration sparking in his chest. He’ll just embarrass himself. Trip over his own feet. Get lost in the crowd. Idiot.

Katsuki stopped pacing, jaw tight, and stared at the shirt draped over his chair. Plain black. No logos, no designs. Just clean, solid, sharp. He yanked it up and pulled it on in one swift motion, the fabric clinging snug over his chest. Doesn’t matter. If I show up, I’ll do it my way. No one’s outshining me.

But when he glanced back at the mirror, something shifted. For just a second, he thought about the way Deku had looked at him earlier, caught off guard, words stuttering to a halt, like all the air had been knocked from his lungs. Katsuki’s mouth twitched, the hint of a smirk tugging before he forced it away.

Guess I still have that effect on him. Some things never change.

And yet… beneath the arrogance, another thought stirred. Quieter. More dangerous. Why did he look at me like that? Like… I was more than just a reminder of how far behind he is?

His fists curled, nails digging into his palms. He didn’t like not having an answer.

The sounds of classmates grew louder out in the hall. Excited voices, hurried footsteps, bursts of laughter that grated against him. He pulled his desk drawer open, snatched his watch, and slid it onto his wrist with sharp, practiced movements. Whatever. A party’s just a party. And if that nerd thinks he can spend the whole night staring, he’s got another thing coming.

Still, as Katsuki shoved his chair back into place and reached for the doorknob, he couldn’t shake the image of wide green eyes and flushed cheeks from his head. It lingered, stubborn, clinging to the edges of his thoughts.

He growled under his breath, low and annoyed. Damn nerd.

And with that, he yanked the door open, stepping into the noise of the dorm hallway, carrying the weight of questions he wasn’t ready to name.

—

The dorm was alive in a way it rarely was outside of training or alarms. Doors cracked open and shut with uneven rhythm, muffled laughter spilling out before fading again. Someone down the hall was blasting music too loud, and voices rose and fell over it, conversations spilling into the corridor like the buzz of an unseen crowd. The air itself felt restless, saturated with anticipation.

Izuku stepped out of his room cautiously, as though the hallway might swallow him whole. His fingers fidgeted with the hem of his white t-shirt, tugging it into place, releasing it, then tugging again. He’d done the same thing ten, maybe twenty times already, but still, the nerves wouldn’t settle. Closing the door behind him, the click echoed, drawing his shoulders tight.

That’s when he noticed him.

Katsuki.

The blond stepped out of his room just a few doors down, the door rattling from the force he’d slammed it with. He looked like he hadn’t spared a thought for hesitation, like he always did. Black fitted shirt stretched over his shoulders, dark jeans broken in just enough to look like he’d pulled them on without caring, a thin chain catching the overhead light when he moved. He yanked once at the wristband on his arm, his movements efficient, sharp, dismissing the gesture the second it was complete.

Then his head tilted just slightly, and his gaze swept the hall.

He locked on Izuku..

Izuku froze where he stood, one sneaker half-turned mid-step. His breath hitched before he could stop it. The noise of the dorm dulled to nothing, like someone had closed a door on the world around them. It was just him and Katsuki, the space between them drawn tight like a wire waiting to snap.

Katsuki didn’t look away immediately, and that was what burned most. His scowl was in place, mouth curved with familiar impatience, but there was something about the weight of his stare that felt different. Sharper. Longer. A pause that didn’t belong.

The silence became unbearable.

Katsuki broke it first.

“Tch. Don’t just stand there, nerd. You’ll be late.” His voice was curt, words clipped like a blade, but the delay in his tone gave him away. For the barest moment, he’d hesitated, and that hesitation hung in the air between them heavier than the insult itself.

Izuku’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, nodding too quickly, as if he needed the movement to prove he hadn’t been carved to stone. “R-right… see you there, Kacchan.” His own voice sounded small to his ears, embarrassingly thin.

Katsuki clicked his tongue again and strode forward, hands shoved into his pockets, shoulders cutting a sharp line down the hall. His stride was confident as always, but Izuku couldn’t help noticing the tiniest twitch in his posture, the way his head tilted just slightly when he passed, like he was refusing to glance back even though the urge pressed against him.

As he brushed by, the air shifted. The faintest trace of cologne lingered in his wake, smoky, clean, and entirely his. It clung to the back of Izuku’s throat, leaving him still and unsteady as the footsteps faded further down the hall.

Izuku stood frozen a moment longer, pulse drumming too fast against his ribs. He exhaled shakily, running a hand through his hair even though it made his curls stick up worse. Why did that feel so.. different? He didn’t even…ugh. Don’t think about it. It doesn’t mean anything.

But even as he told himself not to, the memory of the way Katsuki had looked at him clung like static, impossible to shake.

—

When he finally reached the front entrance, Uraraka was waiting. She leaned casually against the railing outside, her phone glowing faintly in her hand. The cool evening air had brought a pink flush to her cheeks, strands of hair escaping her neat bun. Her face lit up the second she spotted him.

“There you are, Deku! I was starting to think you’d hide in your room all night.” She slipped her phone into her bag, stepping toward him.

Izuku tugged at his shirt hem again, nervous energy sparking off him like static. “S-sorry! I didn’t mean to take so long. Just, uh, making sure everything was locked up.”

Uraraka’s smile softened, but her eyes flickered with curiosity as she gave him a once-over. “Mhm. You sure that’s all it was? You look a little… flushed.”

Izuku rubbed the back of his neck, a shaky laugh escaping. “Ah, no, I’m fine! Totally fine! Just warm. Really warm. Hallways, you know?”

Her brows lifted, her grin sharpening in amusement. “Warm? Or maybe it had something to do with Bakugo?”

Izuku froze mid-breath. “W-what, why would you say that?”

Uraraka’s grin widened. “Because I literally just saw you two. He walked out of his room, you went stiff as a board, and then you stared at each other like you were about to fight.. or, I don’t know, something else.”

Izuku’s hands flew up as if to ward her off. “It wasn’t like that! H-he just said not to stand around, and then he walked past, and-” His voice cracked, and he cut himself off, groaning into his palms.

Uraraka giggled, nudging him lightly with her elbow. “Relax, Deku, I’m only teasing. But wow, the way you looked at him… you’d think the hallway was glowing or something.”

Izuku groaned louder, burying his face in his hands. “Uraraka, please don’t-”

“Don’t what?” she teased, tilting her head playfully. “Don’t notice? Too late for that.”

Before Izuku could melt completely into the pavement, a pair of headlights swung across the drive, bright beams cutting through the dusk. A small car rolled to a stop at the curb, the passenger window sliding down with a whir.

Toga leaned out halfway, her hair swaying like golden tassels in the breeze, her grin wide and wolfish. “Izuku!” she called cheerfully, waving her hand like a flag. “Finally! Come on, get in before I honk and wake the whole dorm!”

Uraraka let out a small laugh, shaking her head. “That’s our ride.” She glanced at Izuku, who still looked like his soul was halfway leaving his body, and gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, I won’t bring it up again. Promise.”

Izuku peeked at her between his fingers, cheeks burning, but her kind smile softened some of the embarrassment. He nodded, exhaling shakily.

They crossed the walkway together, sliding into the back seat of the car. The interior smelled faintly of floral air freshener and leather, the seats warm from the sun’s earlier touch.

Toga spun halfway around in the front, her golden eyes gleaming mischievously. “Sooo,” she sang out, “What were you two whispering about out there? Something juicy?”

Izuku stiffened instantly, hands flying up again. “N-nothing! We weren’t whispering!”

Uraraka snorted softly, buckling her seatbelt. “It really was nothing. Just Deku being… Deku.”

Toga tilted her head, sharp as a cat eyeing prey. “Uh-huh. You say that, but his face is tomato red right now. Don’t think I don’t notice.”

Izuku made a strangled noise, sinking lower in his seat, wishing desperately to disappear into the upholstery.

Uraraka came to his rescue, gently steering the conversation. “Don’t tease him too much, Toga. He’s nervous enough about tonight as it is.”

“Nervous?” Toga perked up, her grin returning full force. “Ooooh, why? Because of the party? Or… because someone special might be there?”

Izuku nearly choked, waving his hands frantically. “T-that’s not… it’s not like that! I-I’m just not used to parties, that’s all!”

Toga laughed, a bright, delighted sound that filled the small car. “You’re too easy, Izuku. So fun to mess with.”

As the car pulled away from the dorm, headlights stretching down the road, Uraraka shot Izuku a quick, understanding glance. She mouthed a soft don’t worry before turning her gaze forward.

Izuku pressed his palms to his knees, focusing on the steady rhythm of the tires on pavement, his heart still pounding far too fast for his liking.

But even as Toga hummed along to the radio and Uraraka leaned her head against the window, Izuku’s mind betrayed him, replaying that moment in the hallway, Kacchan’s sharp voice, the way his cologne had lingered in the air, and the silence that had felt far heavier than words.

He squeezed his eyes shut. Tonight was going to be long.      

  —                                                           

The car slowed to a crawl before rolling to a stop in front of a wide two-story house glowing with warm lights. Even from the curb, the sound of bass-heavy music thrummed through the night air, mixing with the occasional cheer or burst of laughter from inside. The front yard was dotted with pairs of shoes, jackets, and half-finished drinks abandoned by people who couldn’t wait to get in.

Toga looked back at Izuku, her grin bright and mischievous. “Ready to see what this party’s really like?”

Izuku hesitated, fingers twisting nervously on his seatbelt. “Uh—”

Uraraka leaned over, her voice gentle but encouraging. “You’ll be fine, Deku. Come on, let’s go before she drags us out herself.”

They climbed out, the crisp night air rushing in. Izuku shoved his hands into his pockets, trying to ignore the nerves buzzing in his chest. He followed as Toga practically bounced up the walkway, Uraraka walking more calmly at his side.

The front door was already wide open, people moving in and out in a steady flow. Laughter spilled into the night like a tide. Kirishima’s voice could be heard booming from somewhere inside, loud and friendly as always, welcoming people like they were family.

“Basement’s where it’s at!” Toga sang, weaving through the crowd effortlessly. Izuku and Uraraka trailed after her, slipping past clusters of students crowded around the kitchen island, where a pile of snacks and bottles had already dwindled by half.

They reached the stairwell that led down to the basement, and the music hit them harder, louder, heavier, vibrating through the walls. Colored lights flickered faintly against the stairwell, pulsing to the rhythm.

Izuku hesitated halfway down, glancing at the sea of silhouettes shifting below, dancing, laughing, chatting in tight groups. His heart hammered in his ears.

Uraraka noticed, slowing her step to match his. She bumped her shoulder gently against his. “Relax. It’s just a party. You don’t have to do anything except hang out.”

Her steady tone helped, at least a little. Izuku nodded, swallowing hard before forcing his feet to move again.

The basement sprawled wide once they reached the bottom, low ceilings strung with multicolored LED strips, a makeshift dance floor in the center, couches pushed against the walls already crammed with people, and tables stacked with food and drinks. Someone had set up a speaker system so loud that every beat seemed to thud through Izuku’s ribs.

“Woah,” Uraraka breathed, looking around with wide eyes.

“Not bad, right?” Toga twirled once on her heel, arms spread. “Kirishima knows how to throw a party.”

As if on cue, Kirishima himself appeared, bounding through the crowd with his trademark grin, already glowing with sweat and energy. “Midoriya! Uraraka! Toga! You made it!” He pulled Izuku into a quick, bone-crushing hug before moving on just as fast, already being called away by someone else.

Izuku staggered a little, trying to catch his balance. His nerves felt like live wires, every sound and light amplified.

Uraraka guided him toward an emptier corner where a couple of beanbags were free. “Let’s settle for a second. Get used to it.”

Izuku nodded, grateful for the anchor. Around them, classmates and friends mingled easily, Jirou laughing with Kaminari near the speakers, Mina already dancing like she owned the floor, Sero handing out cups to anyone within reach. The whole room buzzed with life.

Izuku tugged at his sleeve, glancing around nervously. Part of him wanted to sink into the wall, invisible. Another part kept scanning the room, as if searching for someone specific even though he didn’t dare admit it.

And then the thought hit him, sharp and undeniable: sooner or later, Kacchan was going to walk down those stairs.Izuku sank into one of the beanbags, grateful for even a sliver of calm in the storm of flashing lights and pounding music. Uraraka perched on the edge of the one next to him, already scanning the room with a small smile.

“Looks like everyone’s here already,” she said, raising her voice a little to be heard over the music.

Izuku followed her gaze. Kaminari was in the middle of an animated story, hands flying as Jirou rolled her eyes but laughed anyway. Mina was pulling Sero onto the dance floor, her energy practically contagious, while Ojiro and Shoji lingered near the snack table, chatting quietly with cups in hand. It felt… normal. Like everyone fit into their place easily.

Izuku tugged at the hem of his shirt, feeling anything but.

“Midoriya!”

He looked up just in time to see Mina skipping over, pink curls bouncing. “You actually came!” She leaned down to throw an arm around his shoulders before he could respond. “I was betting you’d chicken out.”

“I-I wasn’t going to chicken out,” Izuku stammered, cheeks burning as Uraraka stifled a laugh beside him.

Mina grinned mischievously. “Sure, sure. You look like you’re about to combust just sitting here.” She tilted her head, eyes glinting. “Or maybe it’s not the party that’s making you all red…”

Izuku blinked, confused. “Huh?”

But before Mina could push further, Kaminari swooped in, leaning down between them. “Yo, Midoriya, you’ve gotta try the nachos upstairs, they’re insane. Kirishima loaded them with, like three different cheeses.”

Izuku blinked again, caught between relief and bewilderment as Kaminari clapped him on the shoulder before darting back toward the stairs. Mina just laughed and shook her head. “He’s hopeless.”

Uraraka nudged Izuku gently. “See? Everyone’s just here to have fun. You’ll be fine.”

Izuku nodded, though his heart hadn’t quite slowed. Still, the edge of panic dulled just a little as more classmates passed by, offering casual greetings or teasing smiles. He even managed to wave back at Jirou when she raised her cup in acknowledgment, a small smirk tugging at her lips.

For a moment, it almost felt easy. The hum of voices, the blur of colors, the laughter sparking across the room Izuku let it wash over him, grounding himself in the fact that he wasn’t alone.

But still, beneath it all, that restless part of him kept pulsing, waiting. Waiting for the inevitable moment when the basement door creaked open again and a certain voice cut through the noise.

—

The engine roared beneath him as Katsuki tore down the quiet streets, windows down despite the cool evening air. Music blasted through the speakers, Phil Connors’ Against All Odds pounding through the car. The chorus, words about fighting, holding on, refusing to give in, hit him like a punch. He could feel every line, every emotion, like it was narrating his own stubborn streak: against all odds, against everyone else, against the part of him that wanted to hesitate.

He shifted the wheel slightly, letting the bass thrum through his body, and for a moment, the world narrowed down to the road, the music, and the hum of adrenaline. He hadn’t planned on anyone else joining him. Not Deku. Not anyone. He liked it that way. 

But even as he pushed the pedal a little harder, his mind betrayed him. He thought about that hallway earlier, Midoriya frozen in place, green eyes wide, face red as a stoplight. He shouldn’t care. He didn’t care. And yet… he could still feel it, that small jolt in his chest when he caught the other boy staring.

Katsuki shoved the thought down, glaring out the windshield instead. It’s fine. I don’t care. Just a fluke. Nothing more.

Still, the feeling lingered, like static on the edge of his skin. 

By the time he rolled up to Kirishima’s house, the bass in the car matched the pulse in his veins. He parked with precision, shutting off the engine and letting the silence of the driveway wash over him. He stepped out, the night air hitting him like a wall of cool water.

Even as he reached the front door, even before he consciously searched for anyone familiar inside, Katsuki felt it again, a prickling awareness, the unmistakable sensation of someone’s attention threading toward him. It wasn’t a casual glance, not a fleeting look from someone in the crowd. It was focused. Deliberate. Someone was watching him.

He clenched his jaw and shook his head, trying to dismiss it. It’s just the party. People stare at everyone at parties. Totally normal. He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, forcing his muscles to relax and his mind to focus. Focus.

The engine’s music still throbbed faintly in his ears as he strode up the walkway, the chorus of Against All Odds replaying over and over in his head. The song’s words about fighting, holding on, refusing to fall, pounded through him, syncing with the rhythm in his veins. They weren’t just lyrics. They were fuel.

He reached for the door, fingers brushing the handle, and a wall of sound hit him—bass vibrating through the floor, laughter and conversation layered over the steady pulse of the music, colored lights flickering across the crowd in jagged patterns. The room smelled of snacks, sweat, and perfume, a heady mix that made the hairs on his neck stand on end.

Katsuki stepped inside, moving through the crowd with easy precision. His eyes swept the room automatically, cataloging who was where, what they were doing, which corners of the basement were empty, and which were crowded. Every shift of weight, every flicker of motion was registered, but still, the sensation didn’t leave him. Someone’s watching.

He didn’t notice anyone in particular, wasn’t looking for anyone, but the awareness persisted, like a low hum at the back of his mind. It was subtle, almost teasing, but it tugged at him, impossible to ignore.

He shook his head, gritting his teeth. Doesn’t matter. Keep moving. He navigated past a cluster of students crowded around the snack table, past the makeshift dance floor where someone was shouting over the music, past couches and beanbags scattered in semi-organized chaos. Each step was deliberate, controlled, as always, scanning, adjusting, staying aware.

Still, the weight lingered. He could feel it, faint but insistent, like someone tracing him with invisible fingertips. And deep down, even though he refused to admit it, part of him didn’t entirely mind.

The beat of the music matched the pulse in his chest, the chorus repeating silently in his mind, pushing him forward: hold on, fight through, don’t fall. The room was chaos. The crowd was chaos. And yet… the presence of someone watching him lingered, and against every instinct to ignore it, it made the air around him feel alive.

—

The thrum of the music in the basement was loud enough that Izuku could feel it in his chest, yet somehow he barely noticed. His gaze kept drifting across the crowd, scanning familiar faces and unfamiliar ones alike, trying to anchor himself in the chaos of the party. But then-

He saw him.

Katsuki.

He hadn’t even been looking for him, and yet there he was, moving through the crowd with that same confident, predatory grace he always seemed to carry. The moment their eyes met, Izuku froze, his stomach tightening like a coil being wound too tight.

For a heartbeat, the room seemed to shrink around them. Laughter, music, voices, all of it faded to a low hum. Katsuki’s crimson eyes, so intense, so sharp, locked onto his, and Izuku felt the familiar jolt he always did, the one that left him tongue-tied and aware of every little flaw in himself.

Breathe. Just breathe, he told himself, tugging at the hem of his shirt nervously.

Katsuki’s gaze lingered for a moment longer than it needed to, then, with a casual yet deliberate slowness, he started making his way over. Each step seemed purposeful, like he had a mission and everything else in the room existed only to make way for him.

Izuku’s hands tightened in his lap, knuckles whitening, but he forced himself to meet him halfway and met his stare instead of ducking away. Every instinct screamed at him to shrink back, but he held it, breath uneven, heart hammering.

“Deku,” Katsuki said as he reached him, voice low but carrying that familiar edge, almost teasing, almost commanding. His hands were shoved into his pockets, shoulders squared, posture perfect, yet there was something in the way he looked at Izuku that made the smaller boy’s stomach flip.

“H-hey, Kacchan,” Izuku managed, voice shaking slightly despite his efforts to steady it. He could feel heat creeping up his neck and into his ears.

Katsuki’s smirk was faint and subtle, but it was there, a small acknowledgment of their history, their constant push-and-pull. “You made it,” he said simply, though the weight behind the words made Izuku feel simultaneously noticed and exposed.

“I… yeah,” Izuku stammered, shifting on his feet. “I didn’t… I mean, I wasn’t sure if…” He trailed off, unsure how to finish the thought without sounding ridiculous.

Katsuki’s gaze softened just a fraction, though he didn’t let go of the edge that always made Izuku nervous. “Relax. It’s a party. Don’t overthink it … Nerd.”  He said under his breath.

Izuku nodded, swallowing hard. “O-okay. Right… relax.”

There was a pause, filled only by the distant bass and chatter. Katsuki’s eyes roamed the basement briefly before settling back on him. “You gonna stand there like a deer in headlights all night, or are you gonna do something?”

Izuku blinked, then laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “I… I guess I’ll… hang out. Yeah.”

Katsuki’s smirk returned, just a hint this time, a subtle challenge. “Good. Stay close, nerd. Don’t get lost in the crowd.”

Izuku felt his heart stutter. Stay close… The words seemed simple enough, but the weight behind them, the unspoken attention, made his pulse spike.

He nodded, trying to focus on anything other than the way Katsuki’s presence made him hyper-aware of every sound, every movement, every beat of the music. “Y-yeah. Got it.”

–

For a moment, the bass of the music and the chatter of the basement faded into the background, leaving only the space between them. Katsuki’s crimson eyes lingered on Izuku in a way that was deliberate, scanning his face with a sharp, calculating gaze.

And then, almost without thinking, his attention drifted just slightly lower, to Izuku’s lips. The curve of them as he spoke, the way they trembled just a little when his nerves got the better of him. Katsuki blinked once, quickly, forcing himself to refocus on Izuku’s eyes, but the memory of that small detail lingered, a subtle pull that made his chest tighten.

Izuku, unaware, laughed nervously again, rubbing the back of his neck and glancing down at the floor. “I… I’m not usually at parties like this… so…” His words trailed off, and Katsuki felt the urge to lean in, to see the words, the movement, the slight hesitation on his lips, more clearly.

He shook his head, a faint scowl forming, though his mind betrayed him by refusing to move on. Focus, he reminded himself. It’s a party. Don’t overthink it. Yet the pull of those small, subtle movements, the way Izuku’s lips parted slightly with each word, kept his attention tethered.

“Stay close,” Katsuki muttered again, his voice low, almost possessive, as he started moving forward through the crowd. His eyes flicked back to Izuku briefly, catching the corner of his mouth as he followed, and a small, imperceptible smirk tugged at the edges of his lips.

Izuku felt it, Katsuki’s gaze on him, but he didn’t know exactly why it made his stomach twist. He just knew he had to keep up, that the night suddenly felt far more charged than it had when he first entered.

As they wove through the clusters of students, Katsuki’s eyes kept flicking back to that tiny detail, almost instinctively. He didn’t comment, didn’t tease, didn’t need to. The unspoken awareness hung between them, a silent thread of tension that made the room feel smaller, louder, more alive.

And deep down, Katsuki knew he was enjoying it far more than he would ever admit.

The moment was almost dizzying, the bass, the flashing lights, the crowd pressing in around him, but he had Izuku right there, close enough that Katsuki could feel the small, tense energy radiating off him. He was about to say something, something that didn’t need words, when a firm hand landed on his shoulder.

“Bakugo!!”

Katsuki spun, a flash of irritation shooting through him. Of all people… of all people to interrupt this… it had to be Kirishima. His friend’s bright grin was practically glowing under the flickering lights, teeth perfect and unnervingly cheerful.

“What do you want?” Katsuki snapped, though there was an edge of… restraint in his voice. He didn’t want to be taken away, not now, not from this moment.

Kirishima tilted his head, leaning in slightly, lowering his voice. “Just a couple quick questions, man. Nothing crazy. Just come with me for a sec.”

Katsuki’s jaw clenched, irritation coiling like a spring in his chest. He could feel Izuku’s presence behind him, the faint brush of green eyes on him, and it made him hesitate, made him resist. I’m not done here. I don’t want to move yet.

But Kirishima didn’t wait for permission. He gave another friendly tug, firm but not rough, and before Katsuki could protest further, he found himself being steered through the crowd. The weight of Izuku’s gaze lingered, a silent tether pulling at him as he moved, and Katsuki felt the familiar flare of awareness.

“Seriously, Kacchan, come on,” Kirishima said again, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet as if trying to inject energy into Katsuki’s stiff resistance. “I just need to ask you some quick stuff. It won’t take long!”

Katsuki crossed his arms, scowling, but didn’t stop. He didn’t want to make a scene. Not in front of Izuku. But that didn’t mean he was happy about it. Every step away felt like the faintest betrayal, like he was letting the other boy slip further from him, though he refused to admit that aloud, even to himself.

He shot a glance over his shoulder, eyes scanning the basement. Deku was still there, tucked slightly behind a beanbag, looking small, anxious, but… waiting. The sight made Katsuki clench his fists in his pockets. He wasn’t about to admit it, but the pull of that gaze was frustratingly impossible to ignore.

“Okay, okay,” Kirishima said, pulling him into a quieter corner near the stairs. “So, first thing. How’re you feeling tonight? You’re… you know… acting different than usual.”

Katsuki’s lip twitched, half annoyed, half reluctant to answer. “Different how?” he snapped, voice low. He didn’t like being observed, and Kirishima’s wide grin only made it worse.

“C’mon, Kacchan. You know what I mean,” Kirishima replied, leaning casually against the railing. “You’re… calmer? Or focused? Or something. You’re… not ignoring everyone like normal.”

Katsuki’s jaw clenched. Focused, yeah… but on what? He didn’t answer immediately, letting silence stretch just long enough to make Kirishima fidget slightly. Every nerve in his body was aware, keyed into that faint memory of Izuku’s green eyes on him, lingering in the corner of his mind.

“Hey,” Kirishima pressed, softer now. “Is… is something going on with Midoriya? I mean, you two… I dunno… you’ve been sticking close to him.”

The words hit Katsuki in the chest like a challenge and a reminder all at once. His scowl deepened, but his hands stayed firmly in his pockets. “What do you mean?” he asked, voice clipped, though there was a tension under it that Kirishima could read like an open book.

“I mean, you’re… paying attention,” Kirishima said, shrugging with that trademark nervous energy. “Not that it’s a bad thing… I just… notice stuff.”

Katsuki blinked once, forcing his eyes to narrow. Notice stuff. Yeah. Like I don’t want anyone else knowing how I actually feel about anything. He ground his teeth, shifting his weight. “Whatever,” he muttered, brushing off the question as much as he could.

But even as he said it, his mind drifted back, Deku, back there, watching. Waiting. The pull was still there, a quiet, electric tether that refused to break. Katsuki’s fists flexed inside his pockets. He wasn’t going to admit it aloud, not to Kirishima, not to anyone. But part of him… couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Kirishima, sensing the mix of irritation and something else in his friend, chuckled softly. “Alright, alright. That’s all I needed. Just making sure you’re not… you know… losing it at this party.”

Katsuki grunted, spinning on his heel to head back toward the crowd. He could feel Deku’s presence again, a green beacon in the chaos of the basement, and the pull tightened. Stay close, he thought, though the words were for himself more than anyone else.

—

Kirishima’s voice boomed over the bass like he was commanding a stadium.

“ALRIGHT, EVERYBODY! CIRCLE UP! WE’RE PLAYING SEVEN MINUTES IN HEAVEN!”

The announcement hit the room like a spark to gasoline. A wave of cheers, groans, and nervous laughter rolled across the basement, everyone shifting toward him whether they wanted to play or not. The bottle glinted in his hand like some ancient weapon about to decide everyone’s fate.

Katsuki’s first thought: Hell no.

The groans of “I’m not doing that!” and “Oh my god, yes!” tangled together in the air, the party breaking into two halves, people buzzing with anticipation, and people pretending they didn’t care even though their eyes kept darting toward the circle.

The second Kirishima crouched down and set the empty soda bottle in the middle of the floor, everyone started shifting, dragging chairs, dropping onto the carpet, knees knocking together as they crowded in. The air tightened, thick with expectation, music from upstairs pulsing beneath the surface.

“C’mon, this’ll be fun!” Mina squealed, practically bouncing as she flopped onto a pillow.

“You mean embarrassing,” Denki countered, but he was already sitting cross-legged with a grin, like he’d been waiting for someone to suggest it all night.

“Both,” Sero added, leaning back on his hands.

Katsuki didn’t move. He stayed standing at the edge of it all, arms crossed tight over his chest. His whole body screamed refusal. There’s no way I’m doing this.

Kirishima spotted him immediately. “Oi, Bakugo! Get your ass over here! Don’t be boring!”

“Pass,” Katsuki snapped without hesitation. His voice cut sharper than the music, making a couple people flinch and glance his way.

“Aw, come on, man,” Kirishima tried again, grinning like he could wear him down. “It’s just a game.”

“I said no.”

That ended the discussion. Katsuki’s glare was a wall no one was about to climb. A couple people booed dramatically, but nobody pressed the issue.

Still, he didn’t walk away. He shoved his hands in his pockets, shifting his weight against the wall, watching. He told himself it was just to see how ridiculous they looked. Just to confirm how stupid this game was.

But his eyes kept tracking across the circle, landing on Deku.

Izuku had shuffled into the far side of the group, knees tucked up, fidgeting with his sleeve like he wasn’t sure if he belonged. His curls caught the glow of the overhead lights, eyes downcast until, just for a second, they flicked up and met Katsuki’s across the room.

It was brief. Too brief. Deku broke away almost instantly, staring back down at the carpet, but it was enough. Katsuki felt something jolt low in his chest, hot and sharp, like static snapping against skin.

Don’t think about it. Don’t.

Kirishima clapped his hands together, dragging everyone’s attention back. “Alright, who’s spinning first? Let’s get this started!”

“Me, me, me!” Mina practically launched herself forward, her eyes glittering mischievously as she grabbed the bottle before anyone else could protest.

“Alright, Ashido starting us off strong!” Kirishima bellowed like a commentator, pumping his fist in the air. “Let’s gooo!”

Mina giggled, crouching low and giving the bottle a dramatic spin. It rattled hard against the carpet, spinning faster than necessary, dragging everyone’s attention in like a magnet. Laughter and shouts filled the air as people leaned closer, eyes tracking the glass neck as it slowed… slowed… until finally it stopped.

Pointing.

Straight at Kirishima.

The room erupted. A chorus of whoops, catcalls, and gasps exploded so loud Mina clapped her hands over her mouth in mock shock.

“No way!” Denki cackled, slapping Sero’s arm. “It’s fate!”

“Damn right it is!” Mina crowed, already scrambling to her feet. She grabbed Kirishima’s hand with exaggerated flourish. “C’mon, Red Riot, seven minutes, let’s go!”

Kirishima just laughed, cheeks flushed but not backing down. “Rules are rules, huh?” He glanced at the crowd with a grin, then threw a thumbs up as Mina tugged him toward the closet.

The cheers grew louder, the energy spiking until it practically buzzed against the walls. Someone banged on the door once they disappeared inside, yelling something about “don’t do anything too loud!”

Katsuki rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath, “Morons.”

But his eyes didn’t stay on the door. They cut back to the circle. Back to the bottle. Back to the mop of curls bent low, fidgeting with a sleeve like he was trying not to stand out.

Deku.

The game shifted again, the bottle clattering across the floor, more laughter spilling out of everyone crowded around.

And all Katsuki could think—tight in his chest, hot in his blood—was how dangerously close Deku was sitting to that damn bottle. How easily it could swing his way.

His fists clenched inside his pockets, jaw grinding.

This is so damn stupid. Just a dumb game.

And yet the thought twisted through him, barbed and merciless: What if it landed on him?

—

The closet door clicked softly behind us, cutting off the party noise to a dull, distant thrum. I swallowed hard, my heart hammering in my chest. Mina was leaning against the wall, arms crossed lazily, her eyes sparkling with that familiar mix of confidence and mischief. Even in the low light, she radiated energy, daring me with just a glance.

“You sure you’re ready for this?” she asked, voice teasing and low. I could hear the smirk in her tone, feel the challenge in the way she leaned slightly forward.

“Ready? Absolutely,” I said, forcing a grin I hoped sounded confident, though my stomach was doing somersaults.

Her laugh was quiet but daring, and she tilted her head in that way that made me want to reach for her. “We’ll see.”

I stepped closer, and she didn’t flinch. The closeness hit me instantly—her warmth, her scent, the faint trace of soda she’d been sipping earlier. The air between us felt thick with electricity, the tiny space amplifying every heartbeat.

“Don’t just stand there,” she whispered, leaning just a bit toward me. “Show me you mean it.”

I barely had time to react before my instincts took over. I leaned in, pressing my lips to hers. The first touch was messy, urgent, unrefined, but exactly what I wanted. She responded immediately, pressing back, hands flying to my shoulders. I could feel her energy, her eagerness, and it sent a thrill through me.

I laughed softly into the kiss, breathless, and leaned closer, adjusting the angle to deepen it. My hand found her waist, steadying both of us, and I felt her shiver slightly against me. Every nerve in my body was alive, every touch, every tiny movement electric.

Her lips moved with mine in a rhythm that was chaotic and perfect, playful yet demanding. I tilted my head, letting our mouths fit together naturally, letting the world fall away. The faint sound of the party outside seemed miles away, irrelevant. All that mattered was her, her hands tangling in my hair, the warmth of her body pressed to mine.

“Careful, Red,” she whispered between kisses, breathless. “You’re making it hard to think.”

I grinned against her lips, feeling my chest swell. “Good. I don’t want you thinking. Just feeling.”

Her laugh slipped into the kiss, soft and teasing, and I pressed closer, letting my hands move slightly, holding her firmly but not overstepping, just enough to show my intent. She leaned into me, her fingers pressing lightly into my arms as if to anchor herself, and the contact made my heart pound harder.

The kisses grew longer, more intense. Each press, each brush of lips, each shared breath made me feel untethered, alive in a way I hadn’t expected. I braced my hands on either side of her head now, leaning just slightly to keep her close, and she pressed her forehead to mine in response, laughing softly against my mouth.

I could feel her shiver against me, the way her body moved instinctively closer, and it made my chest tighten with a mixture of exhilaration and something softer, something like awe at how alive she made me feel.

We broke apart just a fraction, foreheads still pressed together, both of us flushed and laughing quietly. My chest was still hammering, but I felt a warmth spread through me, a thrill at the closeness, the shared moment that felt so private and perfect.

“Not done yet,” she murmured, grin still wide, eyes bright. I could hear the teasing edge in her voice, the unspoken challenge lingering.

I leaned in again, this time slower, deliberate, letting her feel the steadiness of me, the intention behind every touch. My hands framed her waist and sides, steady and firm, while her fingers wandered back to my hair. We kissed again, messy and passionate, the rhythm building naturally, urgent but careful enough to savor each second.

The world outside the closet didn’t exist anymore. There was no music, no laughter, no party, only her and me, pressed close, sharing the tension, the warmth, the fleeting, electric thrill of finally letting everything we’d been holding in spill out in the form of messy, desperate kisses.

Even as the minutes ticked by, even as the rest of the party waited outside, it felt like time had stopped. Each kiss, each press of lips, each shared breath drew us closer

—

The basement was loud, chaotic, every ounce of his patience being tested. Music thumped through the floor, voices carried over the bass, and the bottle game was clearly in full swing. Katsuki had no intention of joining, he didn’t care about silly party games or silly dares.

Morons, he muttered under his breath, arms crossed, jaw tight. All of them.

He’d planted himself against the far wall, scanning the group half-heartedly, trying to focus on literally anything else, but then it started the faint, unmistakable sounds from the closet.

A laugh, soft and teasing.

He froze, irritation prickling at the back of his neck. Great. Just what I needed.

Then a low, rough chuckle followed, paired with the rustle of movement. Katsuki groaned, balling his hands into fists. Why do I even care?

Still, despite himself, he shifted closer, leaning on the wall next to the closet. Not too close, of course, he wasn’t some creep, but close enough to catch the faint sounds, the little scuff of movement, the breathing, the laughter. He scowled, annoyed at the pull in his chest that made him want to listen, even though he didn’t want to.

Stupid.

He rolled his eyes, pressing a shoulder against the wall, letting the wood hold him steady as he tuned his ears. He didn’t want Mina. He wasn’t even interested in what they were doing. He was just… drawn to the noise. The closeness. The energy.

I don’t care what’s going on in there. I don’t.

But every giggle, every breathless exhale, every faint scrape of bodies moving made his fists tighten. It was infuriating. He wanted to shove his way into the circle, make them all back off, maybe join the damn game on his own terms, instead of standing here listening like a damn fool.

He leaned a little more against the wall, letting the shadows of the closet hide him, listening with a growing sense of impatience. He could hear her voice, teasing, playful, annoying as hell. He wanted to groan, to slam a hand against the door, to shout that he had no interest in whatever ridiculousness they were doing.

And yet… the pull didn’t let up.

Every sound made him shift, muscles coiled, jaw tight. He wanted to be part of the group, wanted to control the chaos instead of just standing on the sidelines. But at the same time, he hated that he needed to know what was happening inside that tiny, cramped closet.

He pressed his shoulder harder against the wall, letting the vibrations from the music tremble through him, listening with all the subtle patience he could muster, scowling at himself for wanting to hear more.

God, what a stupid situation.

He wasn’t jealous. Not really. He was annoyed. Infuriated. And yet, every muffled laugh, every scuffle of movement, made him grit his teeth tighter, caught somewhere between wanting to storm in and wanting to stay just out of sight.

I don’t need this. I don’t need any of this.

And yet… leaning against the wall next to the closet, listening, hearing every little shift and sound inside, he couldn’t make himself leave.

The basement was a mess of sound. Music thumped against the walls, laughter ricocheted off the ceiling, and the circle of classmates had devolved into a full-on spectacle. Katsuki leaned against the wall next to the closet, arms crossed tight, jaw clenched, and tried to convince himself that he didn’t care.

I don’t care. Not my problem. This is stupid.

But he did. Somehow, he did.

It started subtly, soft, breathless laughter that didn’t belong to the loud crowd. His eyes narrowed, scanning the circle for the source, but the mass of bodies blocked his view. Then came a low, teasing chuckle, Kirishima’s unmistakable, warm, and bold, and it hit him like a physical shove to the chest.

Why the hell am I even listening?

He groaned under his breath and pressed back a little against the wall, trying to make himself smaller, invisible. The creak of the closet door and the shuffle of feet inside cut through the party noise. He could hear her breath hitch, a sharp intake that sounded intimate, and it made something twist in his chest. Not jealousy. Not exactly. More… irritation.

Annoying. Both of them. Pathetic.

Denki’s voice drifted across the basement, teasing. “Kacchan, you hearing this? Sounds like Kirishima’s totally got her pinned or something.” He snickered, elbowing Sero.

Katsuki shot him a glare that could’ve burned through walls. “Shut the hell up, idiot.”

Toga’s high-pitched giggle followed immediately. “Oooh! I can hear them! Are they… kissing?!” Her excitement made her bounce on her heels, eyes wide and sparkling with mischief.

He ground his teeth. Figures.

Sero leaned in, smirking. “I bet he’s got her pressed against the wall. You can hear it!” A few snickers rippled from the circle.

Katsuki’s stomach twisted in irritation. I don’t care. I don’t care about them. I don’t care about this stupid game.

And yet… he leaned a little closer. Not because he wanted to watch, no, but because the sounds inside were impossible to ignore. Breathless laughs, the scrape of bodies, soft groans, all carried through the thin wood, teasing him, making his muscles coil with frustration.

This is dumb. So dumb. Stupid, stupid…

Every muffled gasp, every little laugh, every low murmur from inside the closet made his pulse spike. He clenched his fists in his pockets, letting the wall bear some of his weight as he tried to rein himself in.

“I mean…” Denki’s voice rang out again, louder this time. “Should we… I don’t know… check if they’re like actually kissing?”

“Shut up, Dunce face!” Katsuki snapped, muttering under his breath. He glared at the floor, scowling so hard his jaw ached. But still, he didn’t step away. His body leaned against the wall, ears straining for every subtle sound.

Toga squealed again. “It’s so much fun to listen! I wonder how long they’ll—”

Katsuki growled low in his throat. I don’t care. I really don’t.

And yet, the tension in his chest only tightened. He could feel it coil like a spring, annoyance, frustration, the faintest edge of curiosity he refused to admit. His eyes flicked to the circle, watching the other students giggle and speculate, but his mind was glued to the tiny closet door.

I don’t need to care about this. I don’t. It’s not my problem.

But each new sound Mina’s breathless laugh, Kirishima’s teasing murmur, the subtle shuffle of bodies moving closer together gnawed at him. His chest tightened further, heat prickling under his skin. He wanted to step in, to join the circle on his own terms, to grab control somehow instead of just standing there, ears straining like a fool.

Damn it. I don’t care about them, and yet…

He shifted slightly, pressing closer to the wall, leaning on it for support. He hated that he was listening, hated that the sounds made his heart thump harder. Every little squeak, every breathy chuckle, every muffled exhale made his irritation spike into something sharper, hotter.

This is ridiculous. I’m ridiculous.

And still, he stayed there. Shoulder pressed to the wall next to the closet, arms tight across his chest at first, then letting them loosen just enough so his hands could twitch with impatience. He wasn’t going to move in. He wasn’t going to join the game, not yet. But his body betrayed him, leaning in closer, listening, every nerve on edge.

God, I’m so done with all of this…

But he wasn’t done. Not by a long shot.

—

The closet door creaked open, and Mina stumbled out first, cheeks flushed a deep pink, hair a little mussed from the tight space. She grinned like she’d just won something monumental, tossing her hair over her shoulder with a mischievous glint in her eyes. Kirishima followed more casually, brushing at his shirt as if nothing had happened, but Izuku could still see the faint tremor of adrenaline in his grin, the spark in his eyes that made him impossible to read.

The room erupted. Laughter, teasing, and a flood of comments carried across the basement like waves.

“Whoa! Sounds like someone had a good seven minutes!” Denki crowed, practically bouncing, eyes wide with excitement as he nudged Sero, who laughed and elbowed him back.

Toga squealed, practically vibrating with energy. “I told you! I knew it would be intense!” She clapped her hands, leaning forward with bright, eager eyes, every movement exaggerated in her excitement.

Izuku felt his stomach twist, his cheeks heating. He wanted to look away, to pretend he wasn’t even listening, but he couldn’t. His eyes flicked toward the closet, imagining what had happened, imagining the tight quarters, the teasing, the laughter, the soft gasps… His hands fidgeted in his lap as he tried to focus, tugging at the hem of his white t-shirt nervously.

Mina tossed her hair and laughed, a teasing sparkle in her gaze. “Don’t act like you weren’t dying to hear it,” she said playfully, glancing at the group with a grin. Izuku’s heart thudded in his chest, and he ducked a little, hoping no one noticed his blush.

Kirishima clapped both hands above his head to call attention. “Alright, alright! New round! Let’s see who’s next!”

The group shifted instinctively, shuffling, laughing, whispering. The anticipation was palpable, a current running through the room that made Izuku’s stomach flutter with nerves. He tried to calm himself, reminding himself it was just a game. A silly, ridiculous game.

The bottle was set carefully in the center. Izuku’s fingers fidgeted in his lap as Denki gave it a flick, sending it spinning across the carpet. It rattled over the floorboards, wobbling unpredictably, each rotation dragging out the tension in the room.

“Come on, come on!” Denki cheered, bouncing forward, eyes wide with excitement. “Who’s it gonna land on?”

Toga squealed again. “I hope it’s someone exciting! I love this part!”

Sero nudged a classmate with a grin. “Bet on Kirishima! He’s too cocky, it’s gotta be him!”

Izuku’s chest tightened. He could feel his heartbeat in his throat as his eyes darted across the circle, taking in everyone’s expressions, the whispers, the exaggerated laughter. His pulse quickened, his hands curling slightly in his lap as he tried to focus, but he couldn’t help stealing glances at Katsuki.

He noticed him leaning against the wall by the closet, shoulder pressed to the wood, arms crossed, jaw tight. Katsuki’s presence always seemed to pull at him, and tonight was no exception. Even from a distance, even while Katsuki scowled and muttered under his breath, there was an edge to him—a tension that made Izuku’s stomach flutter and his thoughts scatter.

Don’t stare. Don’t stare. Don’t get noticed.

He clenched his hands tighter, flexing his fingers, trying to ground himself. The bottle spun closer to its end, rattling over the carpet with a satisfying clatter, slowing, teetering, wobbling… and Izuku’s breath hitched in anticipation.

The teasing comments didn’t stop.

“Bet on Mina again!” Toga squealed, bouncing in place.

“Dude, no way, Kirishima this time!” Sero countered with a laugh, nudging someone else.

Denki laughed nervously. “Maybe… I dunno… hopefully someone bold?”

Izuku’s eyes flicked nervously from the bottle to the group, then back to Katsuki. He noticed the slight twitch in his jaw, the way his shoulders were coiled like a spring ready to snap. Even if Katsuki didn’t want to be here, he was watching everything, and Izuku could feel that awareness like a physical thing pressing against him.

He swallowed, tugging at his sleeve, feeling that familiar rush of nervous energy. The bottle slowed, clattering almost lazily across the floor, the tension in the room winding tighter with each tick of sound. Izuku’s pulse thumped in time with it, ears straining for the smallest shift in tone, movement, anything that would tell him who the bottle would point to.

Just a game. Just a stupid game. Don’t overthink it.

But he couldn’t. He leaned forward slightly, trying to stay calm, trying to control his racing thoughts while every laugh, every gasp, every whisper in the room wrapped around him like static. He could feel the edges of his nerves fraying, pulled taut by the energy of the group, the spinning bottle, and the looming anticipation of what came next.

The bottle wobbled, teetered, and finally came to a slow stop. The room leaned in collectively, a mixture of laughter, anticipation, and playful groans filling the space. Izuku’s breath caught in his throat. He felt every heartbeat, every rapid inhale, every thrum of excitement in the room.

Somewhere deep in the back of his mind, he knew the next round was about to start. And though he felt nervous, flustered, and painfully aware of Katsuki’s gaze even from across the room, he couldn’t look away. He couldn’t tear his eyes from the spinning bottle, the reactions of the group, or the chaotic energy that made the basement feel alive.

—

The bottle came to a stop, spinning to a perfect halt on Izuku and Uraraka.

Katsuki’s jaw tightened, a sharp line across his face. He pressed his shoulder harder against the wall by the closet, crossing his arms over his chest like he could contain the irritation coiling inside him. His chest felt tight, every muscle coiled, and yet… his body refused to look away.

Stupid game. Stupid idiots. And of course it lands on him.

He could hear the chorus of reactions immediately, Denki shouting, Sero laughing, Toga squealing. The air vibrated with excitement, anticipation, and teasing, all bouncing against the walls of the basement. Katsuki clenched his fists in his pockets, grinding his teeth. He didn’t want to care about any of it. He didn’t want to watch. He didn’t give a damn about who the bottle landed on.

And yet, he couldn’t move. His body was rigid, leaning against the wall like a coiled spring. The tension in the room pulled at him, made his chest tighten, and forced him to pay attention whether he liked it or not.

Izuku shifted nervously, hands fidgeting in his lap, his blush visible even from across the room. Katsuki’s irritation flared, not at Izuku, not at Uraraka, but at the situation itself. Why the hell does everyone have to make such a scene about this?

Katsuki’s eyes flicked between them, his muscles coiling tighter. The noise, the laughter, the energy bouncing through the basement, it made his skin crawl. His teeth clenched, his fingers itched in his pockets. He wanted to tune it out, but he couldn’t. His attention was glued to the small movements of Izuku and Uraraka.

He noticed Izuku’s nervous shifting, the way he fidgeted with his hands, the slight tremor of anticipation in his posture. Katsuki’s chest tightened, but it wasn’t jealousy toward Uraraka. No. He didn’t care about her at all. The tightness came from seeing Izuku, so small, so awkward, so painfully aware of every eye in the room, forced into the spotlight, vulnerable, and under scrutiny.

Why is this even my problem?

And yet, he couldn’t tear himself away. He leaned more heavily against the wall, head tilted slightly, eyes sharp, scanning every subtle gesture, every twitch, every inhale or exhale that slipped from the pair. The tension in his chest coiled tighter with each laugh, each squeal, each teasing comment.

He couldn’t stop himself from noticing the absurdity of it all, the sheer chaos of the group, the way everyone leaned in as if watching a show. He scowled, muttering to himself. Pathetic. Everyone’s pathetic.

The longer he stayed there, the more he realized he wasn’t annoyed at the pair themselves. Uraraka was cheerful, flustered, and doing exactly what was expected of her in the game. Izuku was nervous, anxious, and painfully aware of how everyone was watching. Katsuki’s irritation stemmed from the situation , the forced closeness, the teasing, the spotlight, and the way it made him feel a strange, restless tension that he couldn’t shake.

I don’t care. I really don’t.

And yet, he stayed. Shoulder pressed to the wall, arms crossed, eyes sharp and unyielding, muscles taut like springs, ears straining to catch every tiny sound. Breathless laughter, quiet gasps, the occasional squeak from the movement in the closet, it all rang in his ears. He hated it, and yet, he couldn’t leave.

He wanted control. Not because of them. Not because he wanted Uraraka. Damn it. He wanted to be able to step in if he needed to, to assert himself, to have the power to move things how he wanted instead of being forced to watch.

The teasing from the group around him continued, relentless. Denki shouted commentary, Toga squealed gleefully, and Sero laughed knowingly. Everyone was having fun, oblivious to the tension coiling in him. Katsuki’s jaw flexed, fists tightening in his pockets.

This is stupid. I don’t care. And yet… I can’t stop listening.

He shifted slightly, leaning more against the wall, pressing closer to the corner near the closet, muscles still coiled. The tension in the room was palpable, charged, and every sound from the closet made it spike higher. He hated the vulnerability, hated that he was aware of Izuku’s nervous energy. And yet, he couldn’t look away.

The seven minutes, or however long this round would last, stretched before him, a mixture of irritation, tension, and restless energy. He was a spectator, unwilling but unable to leave, shoulder pressed to the wall, eyes sharp, every muscle taut, watching every motion of the pair inside the closet and listening to the chaos of his classmates’ commentary.

Stupid game. Stupid idiots. Stupid… Deku.

He muttered it under his breath, jaw tight, but he stayed. He wasn’t going to move, he wasn’t going to intervene, but he was entirely, impossibly, fully aware of everything happening in that small space, and he hated that he couldn’t stop paying attention.

—-

​​The cramped space of the closet suddenly felt like the quietest place in the world, even though the sounds of the basement outside reached them faintly, laughter, squeals, Denki shouting something incomprehensible, Toga practically vibrating with excitement, Sero laughing in that calm, teasing way of his. The muffled chaos didn’t penetrate the bubble around him, though. Not really. Here, it was just him and Uraraka.

He shifted nervously, tugging at the hem of his t-shirt and twisting his fingers in his lap. The small brush of the wall against his back made him feel both confined and protected at the same time. He swallowed, heart hammering in a rhythm that made him feel like it might echo in the tiny space.

“I… um…” he started, voice barely above a whisper. He tried to sound calm, tried to make it casual, but the words felt awkward and heavy as they tumbled out. “…Just so you know… we don’t have to… do anything. I mean… like… we don’t have to do anything, okay?”

Uraraka’s cheeks flushed faintly, and she gave a small, almost shy smile, nodding gently. “Yeah. I wasn’t planning to. Me neither,” she whispered back, leaning a fraction closer, just enough that he could feel her presence but not so close it was overwhelming. “Honestly… I like someone else anyway.”

Relief washed over him like a wave, easing some of the tension coiling in his chest. He nodded quickly, cheeks warming as his fingers twisted together. “Yeah… me too,” he admitted, quieter this time, so soft he was certain no one outside could hear him. “I… I like someone else too.”

Her eyebrows lifted slightly, curiosity flickering in her wide eyes. “Oh… really? Who…?”

He felt heat rush to his face, and he swallowed hard, twisting his hands nervously in his lap. “It’s… it’s complicated. But… I—I like… Kacchan.”

The words were out before he could second-guess them, and his stomach twisted painfully. He dared a glance at her, eyes wide, hoping she wouldn’t think he’d completely lost his mind.

Uraraka’s expression softened, understanding blooming in her gaze, and she gave a small nod. “Ah… I see.” Her voice was quiet and gentle, almost like a warm hand on his shoulder.

The basement outside continued its racket of squeals, laughter, and teasing comments, but inside the closet, it was quiet. The tiny bubble around them made everything feel oddly safe, almost intimate. Here, he didn’t have to defend himself, didn’t have to worry about anyone else’s reaction, he could just admit it, even if it was only to her.

“I… I’ve been trying to figure out… how I feel… or… how to… tell anyone,” he admitted, voice cracking slightly. His cheeks burned, warmth spreading down his neck, but he couldn’t stop himself. “But… I think I really like him. Like… more than just… friends.”

Uraraka leaned in closer, voice soft, almost a whisper, as if sharing a secret in the middle of chaos. “I get it, Izuku. I really do. And… it’s okay to feel that way. You don’t have to do anything about it yet.”

He nodded, heart still hammering. The relief was tangible, a heavy weight lifting from his shoulders, leaving only the fluttering nerves that came with confession. He let himself breathe, for the first time in what felt like hours.

“I… I just… wanted you to know,” he murmured, cheeks still warm, hands clasped tightly together. “I… I like him.”

She gave him a small, supportive smile. “I’m glad you told me. Really.”

For a moment, Izuku just let the words settle in his chest. The basement, the party, the chaos outside, it all felt distant. Here, in the closet, nothing else existed but that quiet understanding, that shared secret. He could admit it, even if only to her.

He could hear Denki shouting something again, laughter bouncing against the walls, Toga squealing, Sero chuckling, but the sounds were background noise, unimportant. Here, in this cramped little space, he felt an unexpected calm, even with his cheeks burning and his heart racing.

Izuku shifted slightly, letting his shoulder brush against the wall, grounding himself. “Thanks… for listening,” he whispered, barely audible. “I… really needed to say it to someone.”

Uraraka smiled again, warm and quiet. “Anytime, Izuku. Really. I mean it.”

And for a moment, the world outside, muffled squeals, laughter, the spinning bottle waiting for the next round didn’t exist. Here, in this small, dimly lit closet, Izuku felt a strange, comforting calm, as if admitting the truth had carved out a tiny piece of peace for him in the middle of the chaos.

–

Katsuki leaned against the wall, shoulder pressed into the corner by the closet, every muscle coiled like a spring, jaw tight. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to care. He didn’t even want to watch what was happening inside the closet. And yet, he couldn’t look away. Not when the bottle had landed on Izuku and Uraraka. Not when he could hear every soft shift of movement, every quiet murmur, every tiny breath from inside that small space.

The basement outside was alive with chaos. Toga squealed, practically vibrating with excitement. Denki’s voice rang high-pitched, loud, and completely oblivious. Mina’s laughter bounced across the floor, her fists pumping, while Sero chuckled in that calm, teasing way of his, commenting on every little sound he thought was funny. Their voices blended into a chaotic symphony, piercing and bright, but Katsuki barely registered it. His attention was entirely focused on the closet.

He could imagine Izuku shifting nervously, hands twisting together, cheeks probably flushed bright red, trying to stay small and unnoticed. It made Katsuki’s chest tighten, a coil of tension winding itself tight in his stomach. He didn’t care about Uraraka. He didn’t care about the game or what anyone else thought. But Izuku… Izuku sitting there, exposed, tense, flustered… it tugged at something in him he didn’t want to name, didn’t want to admit, and yet couldn’t ignore.

From outside, the commentary continued, relentless.

“Aw, they’re whispering to each other!” Toga shrieked.

“Hahaha! Bet they’re all over each other! I can hear it!” Denki yelled.

“Man, this is gold,” Sero added calmly, smirking.

“Come on, you guys! They’re so cute!” Mina squealed, bouncing on her toes.

Katsuki’s teeth clenched, but he didn’t flinch. He ignored the noise, tuning it out, though it grated on him. The sounds from inside the closet were sharper, more immediate: the faint shuffle of movement, the quick intake of breath, the tiny whisper of a word. Every one of those sounds made his muscles tense further, made his senses focus with a sharp, uneasy alertness.

He pressed harder against the wall, shoulder digging into the corner, hands flexing slightly in his pockets. He didn’t want to move. He didn’t want to interfere. He wasn’t going to. But he stayed, rooted there, coiled, aware, every nerve keyed to the muffled scene inside the closet.

A soft shuffle, followed by a quiet inhale, made him flinch slightly, jaw flexing. He didn’t want to admit it, but a part of him wanted to step in, just to make sure Izuku was okay. Not Uraraka, her presence didn’t matter, but Izuku, small and tense, vulnerable, trying to navigate this ridiculous game without drawing attention… that tugged at something protective deep in his chest.

“Do you think they’re talking?!” Toga shrieked again.

“Yeah! They’re definitely whispering!” Denki answered, practically bouncing in his excitement.

“Ugh… idiots,” Katsuki muttered under his breath, though the words barely reflected what he was feeling. He didn’t want to care. And yet he couldn’t look away. He imagined Izuku’s hands fidgeting, the slight trembling, the flush of his cheeks. Every tiny sound, every muffled movement, made him lean slightly closer to the wall, ready to react if something went wrong, even though logically, nothing was happening that required interference.

Time stretched like taffy. Every second seemed longer, every muffled noise from inside the closet, every squeal or shout from the basement, winding tighter around his chest. His muscles stayed coiled, jaw tight, eyes sharp. He stayed shoulder-pressed to the wall, aware of everything, unwilling to let his attention slip for even a moment.

Another squeal from Toga, a high-pitched laugh from Mina, Denki’s ongoing commentary, Sero’s low chuckle, they all blended into a distant, chaotic hum, but it was nothing compared to the quiet tension inside the closet. Every small whisper, every slight movement, every hesitant breath of Izuku kept him locked there, alert, unblinking, tense.

He could feel it, a strange combination of irritation, protectiveness, and something he couldn’t name. The world outside the closet didn’t exist. There was only the sound of small shifts, quiet murmurs, and the tension coiling in his chest. He didn’t move, didn’t intervene, didn’t speak. He simply watched, listening, every nerve keyed to the small space, every muscle tight, every sense alert.

The seconds stretched into minutes. The chaotic laughter and squeals outside became background noise, a faint hum compared to the quiet energy emanating from the closet. He stayed there, shoulder pressed to the wall, jaw tight, muscles coiled, listening. He couldn’t leave. He couldn’t pull away. Not yet.

And as the muffled sounds of soft whispers and movement continued, Katsuki realized he would remain here until the game ended, until Izuku emerged. Every second of waiting was an exercise in restraint, awareness, and a tension he didn’t know how to release. But he stayed. He couldn’t do anything else.

—

The closet door swung open, and a rush of cool basement air hit him. For a moment, it felt like stepping into another world, bright lights, loud laughter, and that chaotic mixture of voices clashing around him. He blinked rapidly, trying to adjust, his heart still racing from the tension of the past few minutes. Uraraka stepped out beside him, brushing at her hair, cheeks flushed a warm pink, a small, tentative smile on her face.

“You… we’re done,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the surrounding noise. Izuku nodded, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, suddenly hyper-aware of every sound around him, the squeals of excitement from Toga, Mina’s shrill giggles, Denki’s high-pitched commentary, and Sero’s calm chuckle.

He felt a flush creeping up his neck as the chaos of the room hit him full force. The basement, previously a quiet, tense space in the closet, now felt overwhelming, almost too loud. Every shout and squeal seemed to push against his chest. He swallowed, taking a small, shaky breath, feeling the residual adrenaline of being crammed in the closet with Uraraka.

“D-Don’t worry,” Uraraka murmured, leaning slightly closer, her hand brushing briefly against his arm. “We agreed, right? Nothing… nothing has to happen.”

A rush of relief passed through him. He exhaled softly, his shoulders loosening just a fraction. “Y-Yeah… nothing,” he whispered back, his voice barely audible. The weight on his chest seemed to ease slightly, though his heart continued to beat faster than normal. He let himself steal a quick glance at her face, noticing the shy, teasing lift of her lips, and a small smile tugged at his own.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement, a shadow shifting in the corner near the wall, and his stomach did a small, involuntary flip. Katsuki. Leaning casually against the wall, shoulder pressed into the corner, jaw tight, crimson eyes sharp and calculating. He didn’t look angry, exactly, but his presence alone was enough to make Izuku’s chest tighten, every nerve on edge.

Katsuki’s gaze swept across the room, moving over everyone, taking in the scene, before his eyes flicked ever so briefly to Izuku. That small acknowledgment made his heart skip. Katsuki didn’t approach him directly, didn’t say anything, but the awareness in his gaze made Izuku acutely conscious of his own movements, the way he adjusted his posture, the fidget of his hands.

“He’s… joining,” Izuku whispered to Uraraka, his voice quiet, almost lost amid the chaos.

She gave a tiny shrug, cheeks still pink, lips quirking in amusement. “Seems like it. You okay with that?”

Izuku swallowed, hands fidgeting again. “I… I think so,” he muttered, trying to steady his racing heartbeat. He watched as Katsuki eased into the circle, jaw tight, shoulders squared, eyes scanning everyone. Katsuki’s presence filled the space immediately, commanding it without a word. He leaned slightly back, hands flexed at his sides, posture controlled, and yet… there was an undercurrent of alertness, as if he were ready for anything.

The bottle was placed at the center of the room again. Izuku felt a nervous flutter in his stomach as it spun slowly across the basement floor. The room leaned in instinctively, eyes glued to the spinning glass. Laughter erupted, squeals of anticipation, comments flying in every direction.

Denki shouted, “Go, go, go! Who’s it gonna be?”

“Ahhh! So cute!” Toga squealed, practically vibrating on the spot.

Mina jumped slightly, clapping her hands, “I can’t wait! This is gonna be hilarious!”

Izuku’s gaze flicked again to Katsuki. He was calm, almost unnervingly so, but there was a taut energy in his muscles, a readiness that Izuku could feel even from across the room. He couldn’t stop watching. The small shift of Katsuki’s shoulder, the tightening of his jaw, the faint flare of his nostrils, it all held him rapt, a quiet storm behind the controlled exterior.

Every laugh from the others, every squeal, every shout of anticipation, barely registered. Izuku’s focus had narrowed entirely to Katsuki, his movements, his stance, the way he occupied the circle with quiet authority. He was aware of every little detail, from the subtle twitch of his fingers to the way his hair fell just slightly forward.

For the first time since arriving at the party, Izuku felt both nervous and grounded at once. Nervous because of the crowd, the game, the chaos, but grounded because Katsuki was here, part of the round, an anchor he couldn’t look away from. He couldn’t explain why his chest twisted with awareness at the sight of him, but he did know one thing: this was going to be different.

The bottle slowed its spin, the room leaning in collectively, and Izuku’s pulse quickened. He watched Katsuki, muscles tensed, eyes sharp, posture perfect, and realized with a quiet, almost frightening clarity that he couldn’t escape how much of his attention Katsuki had already claimed.

And with that realization, the next round officially began.

—

The rounds continued, spinning faster now, the energy in the basement building with each turn. He stayed near the circle, trying to keep a low profile while still observing everything.

Uraraka and Toga went first. The bottle had landed on them, and a collective squeal erupted from the group. Izuku’s stomach twisted nervously as he watched them step into the closet. He couldn’t hear exactly what was happening inside, but muffled giggles and soft exhalations hinted at… something more intimate. He glanced away for a moment, cheeks heating, but he couldn’t help noticing the quiet intensity of Toga’s excitement, the way Uraraka’s nervous laughter filled the tiny space. When they finally emerged, both were flushed and trying to hide their smiles. The group erupted with teasing, squeals, and laughter, and Izuku felt a strange mixture of relief and secondhand embarrassment.

Next was Jiro and Denki. The bottle landed squarely between them, and the circle erupted into exaggerated groans and laughter. Denki’s usual energetic teasing made Jiro’s cheeks pink, but she held her ground, smirking through the awkwardness. The closet door clicked shut, and from the faint sounds, soft laughter, a low murmur of words, Denki’s breathy comments, it was clear they were… enjoying the moment. When they stepped out, Jiro’s earring glinted as she adjusted her hair, and Denki was practically grinning ear to ear, while the others exploded with commentary.

A few other rounds passed quickly after that. The bottle spun, people ducked in and out of the closet, squeals and laughter spilling across the basement. Some were awkward, some were more confident. Some handled it with teasing bravado, while others, like Mina, barely contained her energy, squealing after every turn. Izuku stayed in the circle, quietly observing, heart racing a little faster with every pair that disappeared into the closet.

And then, inevitably, the bottle spun again. It rolled lazily across the floor, clicking and sliding on the basement carpet. All eyes followed, anticipation rippling through the group. Izuku’s gaze flicked to Katsuki, who remained calm and taut at the edge of the circle, muscles coiled, eyes scanning. Katsuki’s presence made Izuku’s heart thump a little faster, awareness sharpening even as the circle leaned in, waiting for the next landing.

This was it, the next spin. The one that would determine the following pair. And Izuku felt the tension coil inside him, the same mix of nervousness, curiosity, and that strange pull he couldn’t quite explain.

The bottle slowed, wobbling slightly before it pointed…

—

The bottle had slowed, wobbling across the basement floor, and then, impossibly, it landed on him. On him and… Deku.

His stomach twisted. Of course it would land on him. Of course. It had to. He could feel every pair of eyes in the basement turning toward them, some squealing, some cheering, some whispering with giddy anticipation. And yet, all he could see was Deku. His chest tightened in a way he didn’t understand. His jaw flexed, teeth pressing together. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want this. And yet… the pull, the tension, was undeniable.

The others erupted instantly. Mina squealed, “Ooooh! BakuMido! This is it!” Toga bounced in place, practically vibrating with excitement. Denki’s voice went high-pitched, “No way! Really?! This is perfect!” Even Sero let out a low chuckle. The noise crashed around him, but Katsuki barely noticed it. He only had eyes for Deku.

He shifted his weight, letting a shoulder press lightly against the wall, muscles tensing. His fists flexed in his pockets. He didn’t want anyone to see him flinch, didn’t want anyone to know this made his chest twist in ways he hated admitting. He hated how aware he was of every movement Deku made, how nervous he looked, how small, how impossibly… cute.

The chaos outside, the laughter, the squeals, the teasing, was distant, almost unreal. He could feel it like background noise, but Deku’s presence pulled him into sharp focus. He watched as Izuku’s eyes widened, cheeks flushed, hands fidgeting. Katsuki’s chest tightened further. He didn’t know why he cared so much, why the little shifts of Deku’s shoulders or the way he swallowed made his stomach tighten, but he couldn’t ignore it.

He shook his head slightly, trying to clear the thoughts. This is stupid. It’s a game. A dumb party game. That was what he kept telling himself. But every rational thought collided with the heat in his chest, the awareness, the pull. Every part of him screamed to just watch, stay, notice him.

“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath. He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to enter the closet, didn’t want to play along, didn’t want to give in to this stupid, ridiculous game. But he also knew… he wasn’t going to look away . He could feel every eye on them, the anticipation of the others vibrating through the air, and the last thing he wanted was for anyone else to take this moment away from him, or from Deku.

He glanced at Izuku, who was awkwardly adjusting his posture, looking anywhere but at him. Katsuki’s chest tightened further. He’s so nervous. Of course he is. The thought clawed at him was protective and possessive. He wanted to make sure nothing happened that would make Deku uncomfortable. And yet, he hated the way his heart was thudding. He hated the way his fists flexed at his sides.

Katsuki’s eyes swept the room one last time, scanning the circle, the spinning bottle, the laughing, squealing classmates. The basement was a chaotic blur of noise and color, but all of it faded around the edges, leaving only the small, tense figure of Deku.

He inhaled sharply, letting the tension coiling in his muscles settle just enough to move. He wouldn’t back down. He wouldn’t run. He would step in, participate, and claim this small, ridiculous moment. But only on his terms.

“Stay close,” he muttered, barely audible, his voice a low growl meant for no one but himself… and maybe, unknowingly, for Izuku too.

The closet door loomed ahead, the threshold between chaos and privacy, and Katsuki’s hand flexed against the edge as he prepared to step inside. He could feel Deku’s nervous energy like electricity sparking in the air, pulling at him, and a low, tense anticipation coiled in his chest.

He didn’t want to admit it, didn’t want to acknowledge it, but the thought of being this close, locked in a small space with Deku, made his heart race faster than he could ever admit. Every muscle in his body was tense, every nerve on edge. He wasn’t scared. He wasn’t nervous. Not really. But there was a sharp, undeniable edge of something else… something that made the next few moments feel impossibly electric.

Katsuki flexed his hands once more, jaw tight, crimson eyes glinting. He stepped forward. The door loomed ahead. And in that split second, with all the noise, laughter, and chaos fading into the background, there was only Deku and the tension between them, thick enough to taste.

—

The closet door clicked shut behind them, and the cramped space suddenly felt heavier, tighter, like it was pressing down on him. He pressed his back against the wall, arms crossed, jaw tight. The dim light barely filtered in, but it didn’t matter, he didn’t need light. His eyes were already fixed on Izuku.

“You’re… really fidgeting, huh?” he muttered, voice low, controlled. Not a question, not really. Just an observation.

Izuku’s shoulders stiffened, hands twisting together nervously. “I-I… it’s just—this is awkward, Kacchan,” he whispered back, cheeks pink even in the dim space.

“Awkward? Yeah, no kidding,” Katsuki muttered, biting back a sharper retort. The words pressed at the back of his throat, itching to spill out, but he didn’t. He hated the way his chest was tightening. Hated the way his stomach coiled. Hated the way he couldn’t just ignore it.

He leaned slightly forward, scanning Izuku’s features, every little nervous twitch. “Don’t… don’t start thinking this means anything. It’s a stupid game. That’s it.”

Inside, something twisted. That voice, the one telling him to stay sharp, stay detached, was battling with something else, something he didn’t like to admit even to himself. He didn’t… want to care. He didn’t want these thoughts, these fluttering impulses, this awareness of Deku. He shoved the feelings down hard, trying to focus on anything else, the sound of Izuku’s quick breathing, the faint scent of him, the absurdity of the game.

“I-I know that, Kacchan,” Izuku said softly, barely above a whisper, cheeks pink, eyes averted. “I… I’m not thinking about that either. I promise.”

Katsuki pressed a hand to his forehead, closing his eyes for a fraction of a second. God, why did it feel like everything was burning inside him? Why did he care this much about a stupid party game, about the way Izuku’s hand twitched, the way his voice trembled?

“You better not,” he muttered, almost to himself, jaw clenching. The words were harsh, clipped, but beneath them, raw tension. Raw, unfamiliar awareness.

The argument, what little there was, died quickly. Neither of them spoke for a long moment, the silence inside the closet thick enough to taste. Katsuki’s arms stayed crossed, but he shifted slightly, leaning more against the wall. Not retreating, not softening, just… tolerating the closeness, tolerating the awareness of Izuku.

And in that quiet, cramped space, with all the chaos of the basement outside fading into distant noise, Katsuki realized he wasn’t going to resolve this internal battle tonight. He couldn’t. But he didn’t need to. For now, he just had to stay there, pressed against the wall, aware of Deku, coiled tight, every nerve on edge.

—

The closet felt impossibly small, the walls pressing in, the faint hum of the basement fading until it was just us. My chest was tight, heart hammering so fast I could feel it in my throat. Katsuki was standing there, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off him. His crimson eyes locked onto mine, intense and unreadable, and my knees threatened to buckle.

“I was lying,” he said, low and rough. “When I said it meant nothing… it doesn’t.”

I froze. “W-What…?” I whispered, barely audible. My fingers twitched against my own shirt, unsure whether to reach for him or just melt into the wall.

Before I could overthink it, he stepped closer, narrowing the space between us until it felt like there was no room left to breathe, just him and me. His shoulder brushed mine lightly, almost casually, but the warmth, the nearness, it made my whole body tighten with anticipation. My hands twitched, wanting to reach for him, and yet I didn’t know where to put them.

“Stay right there,” he said, voice low and tense, almost a growl. His crimson eyes bored into mine, and I couldn’t look away. I wanted to speak, to protest, but the words wouldn’t come. My hands went to his chest, unsure whether to push or cling, but he didn’t move—they stayed pressed against me, anchoring me in place.

He leaned in again, forehead to mine, lips brushing mine softly but with insistence. My knees threatened to give out from the closeness, the heat, the tension. Every inch of him was urgent, demanding attention, and my entire body ached to respond.

“I’ve been holding back for too long,” he murmured, voice rough and low. “But I can’t anymore.”

Every word sent a jolt through me, and I couldn’t stop myself from leaning closer, pressing into him. His hands stayed firmly against the wall, keeping me pinned, but he moved just enough to let our bodies press together comfortably. The closeness, the contact, the heat—it was overwhelming.

We kissed again, soft at first, then deeper, firmer, full of all the tension we’d been storing for so long. Every brush of his lips, every press of his hands against the wall, made my chest tighten, my head spin, and my heartbeat thunder. I felt like the world had shrunk to just this tiny space, just him, just us.

And even though the basement outside was still filled with laughter and noise, none of it mattered. There was only him, pressing me against the wall, holding me firmly, and finally letting me feel everything we’d been waiting for.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t careful. It was heat and impulse, his lips crashing into mine was like a wave hitting stone. I gasped against his mouth, but I didn’t push him away, I pulled him closer, as my hands shot up to tangle in his hair, nails lightly grazing his scalp. The sound that slipped out of him at my touch was low, guttural, and it spurred me on.

My lips moved feverishly against his, the rhythm messy but desperate, every press of my mouth urging him deeper. Katsuki adjusted instantly, kissing me back with everything he had, the world outside the closet dissolving into nothing but the heat between them. I t was just us, just this moment, finally happening after all the months of tension and unspoken words.

Katsuki tasted faintly sweet, like the soda he’d been sipping earlier, mixed with something sharper, his own fire. When he parted his lips just slightly, the kiss deepened, slower but heavier, and Izuku swore his whole chest clenched tight at the feel of it. Katsuki’s hand tightened at Izuku’s waist, pulling him flush against him, while the other braced firm against the wall by Izuku’s head to steady himself. I could feel the heat radiating off him, making my knees go weak. His forehead brushed against mine as he leaned forward just slightly, catching his breath, and I gasped softly, my cheeks burning.

I broke the kiss for just a breath, Izuku’s forehead brushed the others lips already swollen and glistening in the dim light. “You’ve… been holding back,” I whispered, breathless, trying to meet his gaze.

“I know,” he muttered, voice low, rougher than I’d ever heard it, eyes intense. “But not anymore.”

Katsuki growled low in his throat, bracing both arms on either side of Izuku’s head now, caging him in. His chest pressed flush against his, and the heat radiating off her made his head spin. His fingers slid just under the edge of his shirt at his waist, not too far, just enough to graze the soft skin there. I shivered at the contact, gasping into his mouth. We pressed together, leaning into each other, hands brushing, shoulders pressing, like the closet had shrunk just for us. His lips pulled back just slightly, then returned, softer this time, slower, lingering, and I couldn’t stop the small laugh that escaped me.

“I… I’ve wanted this,” I admitted softly, voice shaking with emotion.

Katsuki smirked, just a little, but there was something soft in it too. “Good,” he whispered, leaning in again, pressing a long, messy kiss to my lips. “’Cause I have too.”

That reaction, God, it made his heart slam harder. Katsuki’s other hand found his thigh, squeezing gently through the fabric of his cargos as he deepened the kiss. I tilted my head, letting him take control, lips parting as he kissed me deeper, ​​ I’ve waited for this day for so long. I think this boy has ruined me, my thinking, my focus, and my carefully constructed walls. Every time he’s around, every glance, every word, every little thing he does, it’s like he’s rewriting how I see everything. My heart races when I don’t want it to. My chest tightens when I try to stay calm. My thoughts, my control, are no longer entirely my own.

And yet… I can’t bring myself to care. Not even a little.

I clawed lightly at his shoulders, then trailed down his arms, gripping his biceps like she was anchoring myself. “Strong…” I say, as I outline each bump of his muscles he has.

Katsuki chuckled, dipping his head to kiss him again, rougher this time, letting his teeth scrape my lip before capturing it again. This boy knew what he was doing… His hands framed me, one at my waist, one pinning my thigh lightly against the wall. Every move was firm, steady, like Kastuki wanted me to feel just how unbreakable his presence was to me.

The kiss grew sloppy with heat, desperate in its rhythm, lips crashing and pulling and returning with a fever neither of them seemed willing to let go of. My fingers tangled back in his hair, tugging hard enough to draw another groan from him. The sound vibrated in my mouth, making me laugh again even as I went to kiss him deeper.

The last kiss was chaotic, desperate in the best way, full of years of waiting and longing. My hands went up again, brushing over his shoulders, tracing his arms lightly, feeling the warmth and the intensity of him. He pressed me harder against the wall, and I didn’t fight it, I didn't want to. Every harder press, every movement, every brush of his lips made my chest swell, my head spin, and my heart hammer.

We broke apart just a fraction, foreheads touching, breaths mingling, hearts racing together. I could feel him watching me, studying me, and for the first time, I didn’t feel nervous or unsure. I felt electric, alive, like every single moment we’d waited for had led to this closeness.

Katsuki smiled faintly, but there was fire in his gaze. “Don’t think this means I’m soft,” he muttered, pressing another quick kiss to my lips. “Just… don’t ever doubt it.”

I laughed breathlessly, still pressed against him, and leaned in again. One messy, long, desperate kiss led to another, each one building on the last, as if we’d been storing all the moments we hadn’t been able to share, and finally, finally letting them spill into the world between us.

The closet, the party, the world outside, it didn’t exist anymore. It was just us, tangled together, hearts racing, finally allowed to be close in the way we’d been waiting for.

—

​​The moment the closet door clicked open again, the room seemed to hold its breath. Everyone had been keeping half an eye on it, waiting. I knew I had. There was something different about the tension this time, heavier, like everyone was bracing themselves for fireworks.

And then… they stepped out.

Midoriya came first, his curls sticking out in all directions, lips a little too red, his freckles standing out brighter than usual against flushed skin. His eyes, oh my gosh, his eyes wouldn’t stay still. He kept darting them anywhere but the crowd, like he was begging the floor to swallow him up.

Right behind him was Bakugou.

For once, he wasn’t wearing his usual scowl. His expression was unreadable, jaw tight, eyes sharp, but not angry. More like… cornered. Defensive, but in a way that made me think of someone guarding a secret, not picking a fight. And his hands, his hands were clenched at his sides, like if he let them relax, everyone would know .

It only took one glance at them side by side for my brain to explode.

…Wait. Wait wait wait.

No way. No. Freaking. Way.

The silence stretched, and then someone snickered, breaking the spell. A couple of whispers rippled through the circle, and I caught Kaminari elbowing Jirō with a “Dude, dude ,” while Mina’s jaw dropped so dramatically it almost hit the floor. Kirishima blinked twice, his whole face lighting up with something between shock and, was that excitement?

And me? My heart was hammering so loud I swore everyone could hear it.

Did they…? No. They wouldn’t… right?

But Midoriya’s lips were way too kiss-swollen, and Bakugou’s ears were practically glowing red against his pale skin. The air between them crackled, a tension I couldn’t ignore even if I tried. They didn’t even have to touch; just standing there was enough to scream that something had happened in that closet.

I pressed my hands together in front of my mouth, forcing myself not to squeak. Oh my gosh. I’d seen hints before, the way Midoriya always looked at Bakugou like he was more than just a rival, the way Bakugou’s voice got sharper whenever it was him . I thought I’d been imagining it, some leftover fan-girl daydream of my own. But now? Now it wasn’t just a theory. It was real.

Mina finally burst, whisper-shouting, “Oh my god, you two-” before Jiro smacked her arm, hissing for her to shut up.

Bakugou’s eyes flickered across the room, daring anyone to say something out loud. The look in them was enough to freeze me on the spot. He looked like he’d explode if someone laughed, or worse, if someone asked. Midoriya, though, still couldn’t look up, clutching his hands like they might stop shaking if he held them tight enough.

I couldn’t decide what to feel first, shock, happiness, or just sheer awe that this had actually happened. Out of all the possible spins tonight, of all the people that bottle could have landed on, it had landed on them.

And judging by the electricity humming between them as they slid back into the circle, trying to act normal but failing spectacularly… I had a feeling the game had just changed.

—-

The second we stepped out of that closet, I couldn’t breathe. Everyone’s faces blurred together—wide eyes, smirks, whispered words darting back and forth like arrows. Mina looked like she’d combust if she didn’t scream. Kaminari had his phone half-raised like he was about to record. Ochako’s eyes flickered between me and Katsuki, and she quickly looked away, pretending she hadn’t seen a thing.

It was too much. The heat in my face, the way my lips still tingled, the way my chest felt like it might explode—I couldn’t stand there and let them dissect what had just happened. Not something so raw, so… mine.

So I walked. Fast. My steps echoed too loudly as I broke away from the circle, forcing myself not to run but feeling like I was sprinting anyway. My lungs burned. My head spun.

That kiss.

Those kisses.

I pressed a hand to my mouth, still trembling. They weren’t mistakes. They weren’t accidents. The way his hands had grabbed me, the way his breath had shuddered against my skin, he meant it. Even if he said otherwise in the moment, even if he tried to shove it away with anger, I knew. I felt it.

My heart screamed his name with every beat.

And then—

“Deku.”

I froze like the word was a command. His voice. Rough, sharp, filled with that stubborn edge only Katsuki could wield. Slowly, I turned.

He was there, only a few steps away. His hair was messy, his chest rising and falling hard like he’d been chasing me. His hands were jammed into his pockets, but I could tell it was because he didn’t know what else to do with them. His whole body was tense, coiled like a fuse that could go off any second.

“K-Kacchan-” My voice cracked pathetically. My throat felt tight, my palms slick.

He stepped closer, eyes blazing. “The hell are you running off for?” His tone was biting, but lower than usual. Almost… guarded. “You think I’m just gonna let you walk away after that ?”

My breath hitched. I couldn’t look at him directly, I wanted to, but it was too much. Too raw. Instead, my eyes flicked to the floor, then back to him, then away again. “I… I didn’t want everyone staring at us. I couldn’t-”

He cut me off with a scoff, though it lacked its usual venom. “Screw them. They don’t matter.” He tilted his head, eyes narrowing as he searched my face. “What matters is what just happened. Between us. ”

Those words slammed into me harder than any punch. My chest tightened. My body felt unbearably hot.

“Kacchan…”

He stopped just a foot away now, so close I could see the way his jaw flexed, how his eyes flickered like there was a war going on inside his head. For a second, he looked away, dragging a hand through his hair like he couldn’t stand being this vulnerable. But then he forced himself to look at me again. His voice dropped, rough and raw:

“Tch… what I said earlier. In there. About it meaning nothing.” His fists curled in his pockets, trembling. “I was lying.”

My breath caught. My whole world tilted.

He took another step forward, closing the last bit of space between us until I had to tilt my chin up just to keep his gaze. His voice stayed low, but every word shook with unrelenting truth.

“I don’t know what the hell this means yet. I don’t like how it messes with my head. But I wanted it. I’ve wanted it for a long damn time.”

Something in me shattered. Relief. Joy. Fear. Every emotion collided, and I couldn’t hold it all in. My eyes stung with tears I didn’t want him to see, but the smile tugging at my lips gave me away.

I’d dreamed of hearing this. For years, in silence, in secret. All the moments I’d stolen glances at him, all the times I thought I’d die before he’d ever look at me this way—it was happening.

“Kacchan…” My voice shook, soft but certain. “I wanted it too. I’ve always wanted it.”

The air between us pulsed, hot and alive, heavy with everything left unsaid. Neither of us moved for a heartbeat, both caught in the gravity of the other.

And then—Katsuki exhaled sharply, like holding it in was physically painful. His eyes burned into mine, and I knew. He wasn’t going to let me run this time.

—

The music and voices from the house had already faded into a blur, but my pulse was louder than any party, pounding in my ears as I walked farther from the crowd. My chest felt tight, full, like I’d been holding my breath for years and only now realized it.

Footsteps trailed me, steady and purposeful. I didn’t need to look back to know who it was. Katsuki had followed, just like he always did, even when neither of us admitted it out loud.

“Deku,” his voice finally broke the silence, sharp but low, carrying in the still night air.

I turned slowly, nerves sparking through every inch of me, and found him standing there in the dim glow of the porch light. His shoulders were squared, but his hands flexed restlessly at his sides like he was trying to hold something in. His eyes, God, his eyes, burned like they always did, but not with anger. Not tonight.

“Kacchan…” I started, but my voice cracked, betraying me. I tried again. “I, everyone was watching, I didn’t mean to-”

“Shut up.” He cut me off, not cruel, not dismissive, just firm. His voice carried the kind of finality that didn’t leave room for argument. “Don’t twist yourself in knots over them. Don’t even think about it.”

I blinked at him, throat tight. He took a step closer, then another, until there was no real space between us. The heat of him rolled off in waves, grounding me, but also making my chest ache all the more.

“This-” he muttered, jabbing a finger lightly against my sternum, right where my heart hammered, “is what matters. Not their eyes. Not their whispers. Just this.”

Something in me cracked wide open. The weight of years, the rivalry, the shouting, the bruises, the apologies left unspoken, poured out all at once, leaving me raw and trembling. My breath hitched. “Kacchan, I don’t know if I can-”

“You already did,” he growled softly, though his tone was steadier than mine. He reached up suddenly, cupping my jaw, his calloused thumb brushing just under my eye as if daring me to cry. “You’ve been doing it since the damn beginning. Since we were kids. And I was too stubborn to say it back.”

I swallowed hard, my hands shaking as they lifted, clutching at the fabric of his shirt because I needed to anchor myself. “I never stopped, Kacchan,” I admitted, my voice breaking on the words. “Not once.”

His expression softened, just barely, but it was enough to make my knees weak. He leaned in, his forehead pressing against mine. His breath was hot against my lips, ragged but deliberate. “Then stop waiting for permission.”

And before I could even think, before doubt could strangle the moment, his lips crashed into mine.

The kiss was like fire, not gentle or tentative, but consuming. His mouth moved against mine with desperation, with conviction, with years of pent-up emotion burning through every second. I gasped, my fingers curling tighter into his shirt, dragging him closer until our bodies were flush, until I couldn’t tell where he ended and I began.

My heart raced so fast it was dizzying, but all that mattered was him, the taste of him, the rough heat of his palm against my cheek, the way his body trembled like he was just as undone as I was. The kiss deepened, his lips parting mine, and I swore the whole world tilted under the force of it.

When he finally broke away, both of us breathless, his forehead still pressed against mine, I couldn’t speak. My chest heaved, my lips tingled, and every part of me screamed for him.

Katsuki’s voice cut through the haze, rough but low, steady despite his ragged breaths. “ Seven minutes is all it takes. ” he whispered, brushing his lips against mine once more.

A laugh broke from me, half sob, half joy, shaky but real. Tears blurred my vision, but I didn’t care. I smiled against him, voice trembling but certain. “Yeah,” I breathed, “seven minutes.”

And then I kissed him again, slower this time, deeper, sealing it with everything I’d never said, everything I’d ever wanted him to know.