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Katsuki hated move-in day. Not because of the crowds. Not because it was ninety-three degrees outside and the Florida humidity made his shirt stick to his back. Not even because the elevator had broken halfway through the morning, forcing him to haul his tenor saxophone up four flights of stairs while his suitcase banged painfully against every step. No, Katsuki hated move-in day because fate apparently had a sick sense of humor. Room 417. He balanced his saxophone case against the wall, fishing his key from his pocket
“Please let my roommate be normal.”
Someone who slept before two in the morning, didn't blast music, didn't throw parties, and didn't-
The door swung open before he even unlocked it. Standing in the door was a guy about his age, tall, broad-shouldered, messy ash-blonde hair catching the afternoon sunlight. A football jersey hung loosely over expensive jeans. There was a cocky grin on his face. Behind him were three equally loud-looking guys carrying boxes while laughing over something.
“You must be my roommate.” The tall guy said to Katsuki.
Katsuki stared at him, "...Unfortunately."
The guy laughed, “Damn. Already have an attitude.” He held out his hand, “Tyler.”
Katsuki looked at the offered hand for a second before brushing past it, “Katsuki.”
Tyler let his hand fall with an amused smile, “Ouch.”
The room was already half claimed. One side looked like a dorm catalog, a neatly made bed, a gaming setup, mini fridge, LED lights, and a signed football. The other side was thankfully untouched. Katsuki silently began unpacking. He lined his music books on the shelf first, then carefully set up his saxophone in the corner. He stacked his notebooks by color. Everything had a place. Everything stayed organized.
Behind him, Tyler watched, “...You alphabetize your notebooks?”
“No.”
“...Color coded?”
“Yes.”
Tyler blinked a few times, “You're serious.”
Katsuki didn't answer.
One of Tyler’s friends leaned into the room, “Dude!” He pointed to the saxophone, “What’s that thing?”
“It’s a tenor saxophone.”
“...Bless you.”
The room exploded with laughter.
Katsuki inhaled slowly, “It’s a concert instrument.”
Tyler smirked, “So you're a band kid?”
“Music major.”
“Oof.”
Katsuki looked up, “Oof?”
“I mean…” Tyler shrugged dramatically, “I just didn't think people actually did that.”
The guys behind him laughed. One even started playing an imaginary trumpet.
Katsuki clenched his jaw “I didn't think people actually majored in getting concussions.”
The laughter stopped. Tyler’s grin disappeared for exactly one second, then came back even wider, “...Okay.” He crossed his arms, "You've got jokes.”
“I wasn't joking.”
One of the football players whispered, “Damn.”
Tyler chuckled, “I like you.”
“I don't.”
“That’ll change.”
“It won't.”
Tyler only smiled. Cocky. Infuriating. Like the world had never told him no.
Katsuki had met plenty of arrogant people during high school competitions. First chair trumpets, show chair captains, conductors with egos bigger than their orchestras. Tyler somehow topped it all.
***
The next morning confirmed every terrible first impression.
6:42 a.m.
Katsuki was reviewing music theory notes while eating yogurt. Tyler stumbled in wearing yesterday’s clothes. “Youve been awake this whole time?”
“Ive been awake since six.”
“Why?”
“I have an eight o’clock rehearsal.”
“...It's summer orientation.”
“And?”
“You scare me.”
Katsuki ignored him.
Tyler collapsed onto his bed face-first. Five seconds later… His phone started ringing. Loudly. Some obnoxious rap song blasted through the speakers. He answered it without looking.
“Yeah?”
Pause.
“Nah, tell them I'll be there.”
Pause.
“Obvously.”
Pause.
“And bring coffee.”
He hung up. Then thirty seconds later… Another call. Then another. And another.
Katsuki finally looked over, “You running a business?”
“No.”
“Then why are twenty people calling you before seven in the morning?”
Tyler shrugged, "People like me.”
Katsuki snorted, “People tolerate you.”
Tyler grinned, “There it is again.”
“What?”
“The tiny smile.”
“I didn't smile.”
“You did.”
“I didn't.”
“You absolutely did.”
“I was mocking you.”
“It was adorable.”
Katsuki stared at him, "I have known you for less than twenty-four hours.”
“Mhm.”
“And I already want to request a roommate change.”
Tyler laughed so hard he nearly fell off the bed.
***
By lunchtime, the entire freshman class seemed to know Tyler. People waved. Girls smiled. Upperclassmen greeted him by name. He moved through the campus like he owned it. Katsuki couldn't understand it. He was loud. Arrogant. Annoying. And someow… Everyone loved him. Katsuki slipped into the music building with relief. The familiar scent of polished wood and old sheet music settled his nerves. This was home. A rehearsal room echoed with scales. Someone practiced piano upstairs. A violin squeaked somewhere down the hall. Perfect. He unpacked his saxophone and began warming up. Long tones. The b-flat sale. Simple exercise. The rest of the world disappeared. Until…
“...Holy shit.”
Katsuki looked up. Tyler stood frozen in the doorway. A coffee in one hand. A football bag slung over one shoulder.
“You actually play that thing?”
Katsuki sighed, “I thought you'd left me alone.”
“I was looking for the gym.”
“You took six wrong turns.”
Tyler ignored that comment, “What was that piece?”
“Just warmups.”
“That was warmups?”
Katsuki nodded. Tyler looked strangely quiet. For the first time since they'd met… He wasn't smirking. He wasn't making jokes. He just watched.
“Youre really good.”
The compliment caught Katsuki off guard.
“Thanks.”
The silence lasted exactly three seconds. Then Tyler grinned again.
“Still weird, though.”
Katsuki groaned, “There he is.”
‘What?”
“The asshole.”
Tyler laughed, “Told you.”
“What?”
“Youd get used to me.”
Katsuki picked up his saxophone case, "I'd rather transfer colleges.”
Tyler walked beside him anyway, “You know…”
“What?”
“You called me an asshole.”
“Yes.”
“You didn't deny that you're getting used to me.”
Katsuki stopped walking, “...I hate you.”
Tyler flashed another infuriating smile, “No.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and kept walking down the hall, “You just met me.” He glanced back over his shoulder, "You'll hate me next week." A beat. “Then you'll tolerate me.” Another gin, “And eventually…”
Katsuki rolled his eyes before Tyler could finish.
“In your dreams.”
Tyler laughed, “well see, roomie.”
Katsuki watched him disappear around the corner. He had known Tyler for exactly twenty-six hours. And somehow… The idiot was already impossible to ignore.
***
Over the next few weeks, they would argue about everything. Tyler would constantly have his friends over, making it impossible for Katsuki to practice. Katsuki would wake Tyler up, early in the morning will his saxophone warmups. Tyler would make fun of band nerds, while Katsuki thinks athletes are all brainless. They would fight over literally everything, the thermostat, the lights, cleaning, noise, food disappearing. They would make passive-aggressive roommate rules that neither would follow. Their resident assistant is sick of breaking up their arguments.
***
Katsuki hadn't left the room in three days. Not for anything that wasn't class or rehearsal. His music theory exam was in forty-eight hours, juries were coming up, and his desk had disappeared beneath stacks of sheet music, empty coffee cups, and highlighted textbooks. He was halfway through analyzing a piece by Holst when the book vanished from beneath his hands.
“Hey loser.” Tyler stood over him.
Katsuki blinked, “What?”
“Come to a party with me?”
Katsuki stared at him, “Why?”
“You need to socialize. Can't be a friendless loser forever.” Tyler said, crossing his arms with a grin.
Katsuki rolls his eyes, “I think ill pass.”
“Come on man, is there any way I can get you out of this room?”
Katsuki thinks for a moment.
“A movie? Ice cream? The beach? Anything?” Tyler started naming possible activities.
“Take me to the beach.”
“Really? You'll let me take you to the beach?” Tyler said, trying to hide his excitement but failing tremendously.
“Yeah, so I can drown you.”
“Ugh, you're no fun.” Tyler groaned, “Grab your swim trunks, nerd.”
“I have work to do.”
“Youve had work for seventy-two straight hours.”
"I have more.”
“You smell like practice rooms. I didn't know stale coffee was a cologne.”
Katsuki reached for his textbook, “Give it back.”
“Nope.”
“Tyler.”
“Nope.”
“Im serious.”
“So am I.”
Tyler tossed a backpack onto Katsuki’s bed, “I packed snacks. And sunscreen. And I even remembered your stupid reusable water bottle.”
Katsuki pinched the bridge of his nose, “I don't want to go anywhere.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you making me?”
Tyler’s grin softened, "Because you're gonna burn yourself out.”
Silence.
“You haven't slimed in days.”
Katsuki looked away, “I smiled.”
“You scowl with less hostility." Tyler nudged his shoulder, “Come on, it's one afternoon.”
***
The drive took about forty minutes. The windows were down. Music played quietly though Tyler’s speakers-not the bass-heavy playlists he usually blasted. Instead… Classic rock. Katsuki raised an eyebrow.
“I figured you'd complain if I put on rap.”
“I would've.”
“I know.”
“You know me too well.”
Tyler smiled without taking his eyes off the road, "I'm working on it.”
Katsuki pretended to look out the window so Tyler wouldn't notice the tiny smile threatening to appear.
The beach wasn't crowded. The afternoon sun reflected off the water, making the ocean glitter like some had scattered glass across its suffice. A warm breeze carried the scent of salt. Katsuki hadn't realized how much he'd missed beige outside until his shoulders relaxed.
Tyler noticed immediately, “There he is.”
“What?”
“Your shoulders.”
“What about them?”
“Thyre finally not touching your ears.”
Katsuki rolled his eyes, “You observe too much.”
“I have to.”
“Why?”
“Youre impossible to read.”
“I am not.”
Tyler laughed, “You literally have three facial expressions.”
“I do not.”
“Annoyed, more annoyed, and…” Tyler pointed, “The tiny smile.”
Katuki immediately looked away, “I wasn't smiling.”
“Mhm.”
“You imagined it.”
“I'll pretend I did.”
They spread towels in the sand.
Tyler collapsed dramatically, “This…” He sighed happily, “Is the life.”
Katsuki remained standing, “...Now what?”
Tyler looked at him like he'd asked the dumbest question imaginable, “...We beach.”
“Thats not a verb.”
“It is now.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
Tyler sat up, “Have you seriously never just… relaxed?”
“I relax.”
“When?”
“When I practice.”
“That is literally work.”
“It is enjoyable work.”
“Katsuki.”
“What?”
“Youre twenty.”
“So?”
“You act forty.”
“I take that as a complement.”
“I don't think you should.”
About twenty minutes later… Tyler came jogging back from the shoreline, “the waters perfect.”
“Im good.”
“You haven't even touched it.”
“Ive seen water before.”
Tyler sighed dramatically, "You're exhausting.”
“So I've been told.”
Tyler held out a hand, “Come on.”
“No.”
“Please?”
“No.”
“Ill buy you dinner.”
“No.”
“Ill stop calling you a band nerd.”
Katsuki went silent.
Tyler smirked, “That got your attention.”
“...Fine.”
“Yes!”
“But only because you're annoying.”
“Whatever helps you sleep.”
The water was colder than expected.
Katsuki hissed, “It's freezing.”
“It's seventy-five degrees.”
“It feels like ice.”
“You are so dramatic.”
“I'm dramatic?”
Tyler splashed him. A wall of seawater hit Katsuki square in the face.
Silence.
Tyler immediately regretted it, “...Uh.”
Katsuki slowly wiped the water from his eyes, “You shouldn't have done that.”
Tyler grinned, “Oh?”
“Youve made a mistake.”
Tyler turned to run, but it was too late, Katsuki tackled him into waist-deep water. They both disappeared beneath the surface. When they resurfaced, Tyler was laughing so hard he could barely breathe.
“You-” Laugh, “You actually-” Another laugh.
Katsuki shoved him, “Shut up.”
“You tackled me!”
“You deserved it.”
“I absolutely did.”
They stayed in the water until sunset. Talking. Arguing. Laughing. About nothing. About everything. Tyler told stories about getting kicked out of a hotel pool when he was twelve. Katsuki admitted he'd never learned how to surf because he'd always spent summers at music camps instead.
Tyler looked horrified, “Music camps?”
“It was fun.”
“You are such a nerd.”
“I know.”
“...Its kind of your thing.”
Katsuki frowned, “Is that an insult?”
Tyler shrugged, “Not anymore.”
The words caught Katsuki off guard. Not anymore, There wasn't any teasing behind them. Just… honesty.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, they sat in the sand, letting the waves wash over their feet. Neither of them spoke. For once… The silence wasn't awkward.
Tyler eventually leaned back on his elbows, "I'm glad you came.”
Katsuki stared out at the ocean, “...Me too.” The confession slipped out before he could stop it.
Tyler looked over, “You mean that?”
“...Dont make it weird.”
“I wasn't going to.”
“You were.”
“I was thinking about it.”
“I know.”
Another comfortable silence settled between them. Tyler reached into the cooler beside him and tossed Katsuki a beer. Without thinking, Katsiki caught it. Without thinking, Tyler smiled. Without thinking… Katsuki smiled back. Neither of them mentioned it. Neither of them had to. For the first time since becoming roommates, the beach didn't feel like somewhere Tyler had dragged him. It felt like somewhere they'd gone together.
***
The two beers that they drink, turned into a twelve pack. Each of them had downed six beers. Tyler definitely couldn't drive. They needed to find somewhere to stay until they sobered up.
***
They walk into the hotel room Tyler had booked from his room.
“No…” Katsuki started into the room.
“What is it?”
“There’s only one bed.”
“Great…”
“Why did you book a single?”
“I'm drunk! I didn't read the fine print!”
“Well, you're an idiot.”
“Look, it isn’t that bad. I’ll just sleep on the floor. You take the bed.”
“No. You’re not sleeping on the floor.” Katsuki sighs. “We can… share.”
“Swear?” Tyler says, looking at him shocked. “Swear you won’t kill me?”
“Whatever. Just go to sleep.”
They lay down and turn off the lights.
“You’re a football player, right?” Katsuki says, turning on his side to face Tyler.
Tyler looks over at him, “Quarterback. Why?”
“When’s your season start?”
“Next Saturday.”
“Who are you guys playing against?”
“Alabama.”
“Well, kick their ass for me.”
Tyler chuckles, “Easy.”
“Tyler?”
“Katsuki.”
“Are you doing anything after the game?”
“Yeah, there’s a bonfire on the beach. I’m going with my friend group.”
“Hm.”
“You should come.”
Katsuki looks shocked at the invitation, “With you?”
“Yeah, or your friends. Whatever.”
“I’ll think about it…”
“Don’t think too hard, nerd.” Tyler smiles at him before turning over. “Night.”
Katsuki looks at the back of his head for a moment before also turning over, “Night.”
***
Saturday comes pretty quick, Katsuki attends the game with his friends.
“Kacchan, you never come with us to football games. What changed?” His friend, Izuku asks.
“Stop asking questions, Deku.”
“Come on! I’m just curious!”
“Fine… my roommate invited me.”
Izuku tilts his head, “Roomate? Who’s your roommate?”
“Tyler. Quarterback.” Katsuki says, looking onto the field where Tyler is.
“Really? He invited you?”
“Yeah. What’s it to you?”
Izuku shrugs, “You going to the bonfire with us.”
“Yeah.”
***
That night at the bonfire, Katsuki is with his friends Izuku, Ochako, Shoto, and Tenya. Tyler hangs out with his usual friend group Eijirou, Mina, Denki, and Sero.
Katsuki watches Tyler from afar. Many people, especially girls, talk to him. He notices one girl in particular, she has her arm wrapped around his. Clinging to his side. He occasionally leans down to whisper something in her ear. She giggles. He pulls her closer. She kisses his cheek. Katsuki can’t help but to watch.
“Kacchan, you’re staring.” Izuku whispers. “Let’s go get a drink.”
Izuku pulls him towards the drink cooler, pulling out two beers for them, “What’s the deal with you and Tyler? You were staring at him.”
Katsuki freezes, caught. “Nothing.” He says roughly.
“Sure, Kacchan. I know you and I know something’s up.”
“Shut up, Deku. You don’t know anything.”
“Alright,” Izuku raises his hands in surrender, “I’ll drop it.”
***
While Katsuki is hanging out with his friends near the pool, a boy walks up to him.
“Hey, nerd.”
“What do you want?”
“What’s with the attitude? I’m trying to be friendly.” The guy says with a smirk.
“No you’re not.”
“Fast leaner.” He leans down to Katsuki’s level, “I might have to teach you some respect.”
Before katsuki can react, the guy punches him. Causing his nose to bleed.
Tyler catches this out of the corner of his eye, he releases the girl on his side and walks over.
“Woah, Jackson, what’s going on?” Tyler says to the guy.
“Oh, hey Ty, Just teaching this nerd a lesson.”
“Come on, man. Back off. He isn’t doing anything.”
“Since when do you care about this geek?”
“Don’t cause a scene.” Tyler whispers dangerously.
“Whatever, Ty.” He guys backs off. “But, Nerd, this isn’t over.”
The guys walks off.
“You good?” Tyler asks.
Katsuki clutches his bleeding nose, “Never been better.”
Tyler laughs, “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”
Katsuki follows Tyler inside. He leans against the bathroom sink as Tyler cleans up his bloody nose.
“Good thing it isn’t broken.” Tyler says.
“Mhm.”
“I would’ve broken his hands.” Tyler says through clenched teeth.
“I can defend myself you know?”
Tyler shakes his head, “Sorry… I know you can.”
Suddenly a voice chimes, high pitched and slightly annoying, “Tyler? Where are you?”
A blonde girl appears in the bathroom, “There you are handsome!”
“Sup, Emma.”
“I’ve been looking for you, and who’s this?”
“My roommate, Katsuki.”
The girl looks Katsuki up and down with mild disgust.
“Hm.” She says before turning back to Tyler, running her hand over his chest, “Come on, Ty. I wanna show you something.”
Katsuki knows what she wants. That hand on his chest tells him everything he needs to know.
“You gonna be alright?” Tyler asks Katsuki.
“Mhm.”
***
Katsuki goes back out to his friends. Tyler and that girl disappear, doing god knows what.
Eventually, everyone gathers around the bonfire to play party games. In the first game, everyone writes a dare on a piece of paper and puts them in a hat for people to draw out. Tyler sat next to Katsuki for this game. When it was Tyler’s turn, he pulled out a piece of paper that said ‘7 minutes in heaven with the person to your left’. Katsuki was on Tyler’s left. Mina, one of Tyler’s friends and creator of the game, walked them inside to the closet.
“Have fun~” Mina giggles as she closes the closet.
Tyler looks over at Katsuki, Katsuki looks away.
“Did you have to sit next to me?” Katsuki growls.
“Chill, we don’t have to do anything… or we could…”
“What are you suggesting?”
“Let’s make out.”
Katsuki shakes his head, face slightly flushed, “No way!”
“Come on, it’s just a game.”
“Screw that!”
Tyler grabs his wrists, pining them down by his ears. Katsuki freezes completely, his face turning a bright red. He looks up at Tyler hovering over him. His eyes flicker down, noticing the bulge in Tyler’s pants. His face turns even redder.
“You idiot!” He yells.
Tyler shuts him up with a kiss.
After a moment, he melts into the kiss, though inexperienced and stiff. Tyler presses him harder against the floor, their breathing becoming rapid and uneven. Katsuki’s hand finally finds the courage to rest on Tyler’s back, trembling against his shirt.
Tyler pulls back after a few seconds, “Your braces feel good against my tongue.”
Katsuki gasps for air, panting, and he looks dazed, "I... I can't believe this is happening..."
Tyler smirks, “Want some more?”
Katsuki nods eagerly, though he's clearly overwhelmed. His voice is barely a whisper, "Yes... please..."
The timer for seven minutes goes off in the background, but neither of them notice, too in the moment.
Mina opens the door, they quickly pull away from each other. She grins at them knowingly. Katsuki quickly straightens his clothes and hair, trying to appear composed despite his flushed face. He glances at Tyler one last time before exiting the closet. The other party-goers are waiting, some with knowing smirks.
Shoto raises an eyebrow at his friend’s state, "Looks like Katsuki survived... barely."
Katsuki sits beside Tyler again, though he's sitting straighter now. He keeps stealing glances at Tyler, still in disbelief. The game continues, but Katsuki seems distracted, touching his lips occasionally.
"Tyler, your turn again!" Eijirou says.
Tyler pulls a paper from the hat. The paper reads, ‘Spin the bottle, kiss who it lands on.” Tyler chugs the rest of his beer and sets it on the sand. The bottle spins around the circle before landing on a pretty blonde girl.
She practically bounces over, tilting her head to expose her neck. She's wearing a revealing dress, "Right here on my neck, Tyler."
Tyler gives her a quick kiss on the neck.
She moans softly, enjoying the attention from you. Some girls in the circle look jealous indeed, including Katsuki who tries to hide his frown. The blonde touches her neck, “Perfect~"
The game continues again. Katsuki watches as other girls get jealous of the kiss. He feels a mix of admiration and insecurity watching Tyler work his charm.
Mina notices Katsuki’s expression and nudges him. "Don't worry bro, you got something better than a peck from him." She whispers, referring to the closet kiss.
Katsuki turns red again at the reminder. He whispers back harshly, "Shut up!" But he can't help but smile slightly, touching his braces again where Tyler mentioned liking them.
After more rounds, Katsuki gets another turn. He pulls out "kiss someone of your choice". He hesitates, looking around nervously. His eyes land on Tyler briefly before darting away, contemplating if he should choose Tyler.
Tyler notices his hesitation and looks at his paper, “Kiss me if you want.” He whispers to Katsuki.
Katsuki's eyes widen at Tyler’s whisper. He swallows hard, gathering courage, "R-really?" He asks quietly, barely audible over the music.
Tyler nods.
Katsuki takes a deep breath and stands up shakily. The others are watching, some surprised he's making a choice. He moves in front of Tyler and leans down, cupping Tyler’s face gently with his hands. Katsuki kisses Tyler softly, more confidently than before. He pulls off and the room erupts in cheers and whistles from his friends. He's completely red now, but he's smiling genuinely. Sero wolf-whistles loudly.
***
As the games wound down, the energy of the party shifted. The shouting dissolved into scattered conversations, music hummed softly from a speaker somewhere near the bonfire, and people drifted into smaller groups, content to lounge in beach chairs or sit in the sand watching the waves roll in. The sky had deepened into shades of navy and violet, the last traces of sunset disappearing beyond the horizon. Katsuki barely noticed any of it. His mind refused to leave the closet. Or the second kiss. He’d kissed Tyler. Twice. The realization hit him all over again, sending a rush of heat creeping up his neck. Every time he replayed it in his head—the way Tyler had looked at him, how close they’d been, the lingering warmth of his lips—his stomach flipped. He buried his face in his drink, silently cursing himself for thinking about it so much.
“It was just a stupid party game.” That’s what he kept telling himself.
But if that were true, why couldn’t he stop replaying it? Why did his pulse still quicken every time Tyler laughed from somewhere across the fire? Why did he keep catching himself searching the crowd until he found him? Katsuki let out a quiet breath and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, hoping the cool evening air would chase away the heat in his face. It didn’t. If anything, it only made him more aware of the storm of emotions building in his chest. He’d spent weeks convincing himself Tyler was just an annoying roommate. Tonight had made that lie a lot harder to believe.
“Want another beer?” Tyler asks him.
Katsuki snaps out of his trance, “Sure.”
After a moment, Tyler comes back with two beers. He hands one to Katsuki.
Tyler shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie as they stepped away from the beach, the laughter and chatter of everyone else fading behind them. For once, he seemed… hesitant.
“So…” he began, scratching the back of his neck. “Sorry about what happened in the closet.”
Katsuki blinked. “What?”
Tyler shot him an unimpressed look. “You know exactly what.”
Heat rushed to Katsuki’s face. He suddenly found the sand beneath his feet incredibly interesting. “Oh… that.”
A beat passed.
“It’s all good,” he muttered, trying—and failing—to sound indifferent.
Tyler studied him for a second before a crooked grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“…You know,” he said, “you’re a pretty good kisser.”
Katsuki’s head snapped toward him. “What?”
“I said you’re—”
“I heard you!”
Tyler’s grin only widened.
Katsuki could practically feel the warmth crawling up his neck. “Shut up.”
Tyler laughed, the sound light and effortless, and somehow that only made Katsuki more flustered. “I mean it.”
“Tyler.”
“What?”
“If you say one more word, I’m pushing you into the ocean.”
“You’d miss me.”
“I absolutely would not.”
“Mm.”
Tyler’s smug hum earned him a glare that would’ve scared off almost anyone else. Almost. The teasing slowly fizzled out, leaving a comfortable silence between them. Their footsteps crunched softly over the boardwalk as the last rays of sunlight dipped below the horizon.
After a moment, Tyler cleared his throat. “So… need a ride back to the dorms?”
Katsuki looked up.
“Yeah.” He let out a quiet sigh. “My ride kind of abandoned me.”
“The green-haired guy?”
“Yeah.”
“The one who disappeared with his boyfriend?”
Katsuki rolled his eyes. “Yeah.”
Tyler nodded thoughtfully. “He’s cute.”
Katsuki’s jaw tightened almost instantly. “…Shut up.”
Tyler looked over, fighting back another smile.
“What?”
“You sound jealous.”
“I’m not jealous.”
“Oh?”
“I’m not.”
“So if I said he was my type…”
Katsuki shot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass. “I’d tell you your type sucks.”
Tyler couldn’t hold it together anymore. He burst into laughter, bending over slightly as he tried to catch his breath. “There it is,” he said between laughs.
“There what is?”
“That jealous streak.”
“I am not jealous.”
“Mhm.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
Katsuki opened his mouth to argue, but the words caught in his throat. Because he wasn’t entirely sure Tyler was wrong. Tyler smiled to himself, pretending not to notice Katsuki’s sudden silence. He nudged him lightly with his shoulder as they reached his truck.
“C’mon.” He unlocked the doors with a click. “Let’s go home.”
For reasons Katsuki couldn’t explain, the word home lingered in his mind long after they’d climbed into the car.
***
The car ride back to the dorms was wrapped in a comfortable silence, but Katsuki’s mind was anything but quiet. Every moment from the party replayed behind his eyes, the laughter, the teasing, the warmth of Tyler’s lips brushing against his, and the way his heart had betrayed him each time their eyes met. He rested his forehead against the cool window, watching the scenery blur past as he tried to untangle feelings he’d spent so long pretending didn’t exist. His thoughts refused to settle. Every smile Tyler had thrown his way, every joke, every accidental touch replayed over and over until they blurred together into one impossible realization: somewhere between the arguments and the party, Tyler had become more than just his roommate. That realization should have terrified him. Instead, it made his chest ache. Tyler kept his eyes on the road, one hand lazily draped over the steering wheel, while the fading orange light of the sunset painted the inside of the car in soft gold. Katsuki stared out the passenger window, but he wasn’t really looking at the scenery. His thoughts kept drifting back to Tyler, the easy grin he’d worn all afternoon, to the way he’d pulled Katsuki out of his shell without even realizing it. It was unsettling how quickly someone he’d once dreaded living with had become the person he looked for first in every room. He wasn’t ready to admit what that meant, even to himself.
***
When they finally pulled into the dorm parking lot, Tyler killed the engine and stretched with a groan.
“I think I’m gonna be finding sand in my shoes for the next month.”
Katsuki snorted. “You wore flip-flops. That’s your own fault.”
“Oh, so now you’re an expert?”
“I have common sense.”
Tyler bumped his shoulder as they climbed out of the car. “Keep telling yourself that, band nerd.”
Katsuki rolled his eyes, but the insult didn’t sting the way it used to.
By the time they reached their room, both of them were exhausted.
Tyler unlocked the door, flicked on the light, and immediately kicked off his shoes, sending them skidding across the floor. “Home sweet home.”
Katsuki set his backpack beside his desk before peeling off his hoodie, still carrying the faint scent of saltwater and sunscreen. The room felt strangely smaller tonight, quieter somehow. He was halfway through organizing the random things he’d stuffed into his beach bag when he heard the unmistakable squeak of mattress springs.
He turned. “…Tyler.”
Tyler was lying flat on Katsuki’s bed, one arm tucked behind his head, scrolling lazily through his phone as if he belonged there. “What?”
“…Why are you on my bed?”
Tyler looked around the room with exaggerated confusion. “Oh.” A beat. “This is your bed.”
Katsuki stared at him. “You literally watched me put my stuff down over here.”
“I did.”
“And you still laid on it.”
“I sure did.”
Katsuki pinched the bridge of his nose. “Get off.”
Tyler didn’t move. “Nah.”
“Tyler.”
“It’s comfortable.”
“It’s my bed.”
“So?”
“So… move.”
Tyler glanced over with a lazy grin. “You gonna make me?”
Normally, Katsuki would’ve shoved him off without a second thought. Instead, he walked over, stopping beside the bed. Tyler looked up at him, waiting for the inevitable shove. It never came.
Katsuki folded his arms. “You are unbelievably annoying.”
“I’ve been told.”
“You have your own bed.”
“I know.”
“And it’s literally three feet away.”
“Also true.”
“So why are you here?”
Tyler shrugged, the teasing smile softening just a little. “I don’t know.”
The answer caught Katsuki off guard. There wasn’t any smugness behind it. No sarcastic remark. Just an honest admission, like Tyler hadn’t really thought about it before flopping down. The room fell quiet.
Katsuki looked at him for a long moment before letting out an exasperated sigh. “…Scoot over.”
Tyler blinked. “What?”
“You heard me.”
A grin spread slowly across Tyler’s face. “I knew you’d come around.”
“Don’t make me regret this.”
Tyler slid over with exaggerated obedience, leaving just enough room for Katsuki to sit. Their shoulders brushed as Katsuki lowered himself onto the mattress, careful not to acknowledge how close they suddenly were. Neither of them spoke. Tyler scrolled aimlessly through his phone while Katsuki absentmindedly untangled the drawstrings of his hoodie. It was… easy. Comfortable. Weeks ago, Katsuki would’ve started a fight if Tyler had crossed an invisible line like this. He’d have demanded his space, shoved Tyler onto his own bed, and spent the rest of the night grumbling under his breath. Now, he found himself sitting shoulder to shoulder with him in silence. It should’ve felt strange. Instead, it felt… natural. Katsuki hated how little he minded. As if sensing the thought, Tyler leaned back against the wall and smiled to himself.
“You know,” he said quietly, “you’ve stopped threatening to kill me every five minutes.”
Katsuki didn’t look at him, “I still think about it.”
Tyler laughed, “I know.”
For a moment, neither of them moved. The room was filled only with the soft buzz of Tyler’s phone, the whir of the ceiling fan, and the comfortable silence that had somehow become theirs. Neither of them realized it, but somewhere between all the bickering, late-night arguments, and one ridiculous beach party, they’d stopped acting like two strangers forced to share a room. They were becoming something else. Neither one was quite ready to put a name to it.
***
Tyler showed up at the dorm door that afternoon like he always did—uninvited, unbothered, like the concept of “timing” was something that happened to other people.
Katsuki opened the door, immediately annoyed. “…What.”
Tyler blinked. Then smiled. “Drive-in.”
Katsuki stared at him. “…What about it.”
Tyler held up two tickets. “I got them.”
A pause.
“…Why.”
Tyler shrugged. “Because I’ve never been to one.”
Katsuki narrowed his eyes. “That doesn’t explain why I’m involved.”
Tyler leaned slightly on the doorframe. “You looked like you needed to leave campus.”
Katsuki’s expression twitched. “I don’t.”
Tyler nodded. “Okay.” Beat. “I still think you do.”
That should’ve been the end of it. Katsuki should’ve shut the door. Should’ve gone back inside. Should’ve pretended the conversation never happened. Instead, twenty minutes later, he was sitting in Tyler’s car. Arms crossed. Scowling out the window like the seatbelt itself was an insult.
“…This is stupid,” Katsuki muttered.
Tyler, driving, glanced at him. “Yeah.”
Katsuki looked at him sharply. “…Then why are we doing it.”
Tyler smiled slightly. “Because stupid things are better when you don’t do them alone.”
Katsuki didn’t respond. But he didn’t get out of the car either.
The drive-in was on the edge of town. Old-fashioned. A little worn down. The kind of place that didn’t try too hard because it didn’t have to. Cars were already lined up when they arrived, headlights flickering off as people settled in. Tyler parked near the middle. Not too close. Not too far. Like he’d somehow known what Katsuki would tolerate without asking.
“…Popcorn?” Tyler asked, turning off the engine.
“No.”
“Candy?”
“No.”
Tyler nodded. “Okay.”
Katsuki frowned. “…Why do you keep asking.”
Tyler shrugged. “Habit.” A pause. “…You don’t like people assuming things for you.”
The screen flickered to life. A movie started—some action film Katsuki didn’t care enough to name. Cars settled into silence. The world outside their windshield faded into shadows and distant sound.
At first, it was exactly what Katsuki expected. Too close. Too many people. Too much noise pretending to be quiet. He sat stiffly in his seat, arms still crossed. Waiting for the moment he’d regret coming. It didn’t come. Instead, something strange happened. Tyler didn’t talk much. Didn’t perform. Didn’t try to fill the space between them. He just… existed there. Present. Occasionally reacting softly to the movie under his breath. Nothing directed at Katsuki. Nothing demanding attention. Just sharing the space. Katsuki noticed. Of course he did. He noticed everything.
“…You’re weirdly quiet,” Katsuki said after a while.
Tyler glanced at him. “Is that bad?”
Katsuki hesitated. Then— “…No.” A pause. “…Just different.”
Tyler nodded. “Yeah.” He looked back at the screen. “I like it here.”
Katsuki scoffed lightly. “…It’s just a parking lot with a screen.”
Tyler smiled. “Yeah.” A beat. “But it’s you and me in it.”
That made Katsuki go still. Not visibly dramatic. Just… still.
The movie continued. Explosions. Car chases. Dialogue neither of them cared about. But something else was happening in the silence between it all.
At some point, Katsuki’s shoulder bumped Tyler’s. Small. Accidental. He didn’t move away immediately. Tyler noticed. But didn’t comment. Just shifted slightly—not away, but closer in response. Like it wasn’t a correction. Just an answer. Katsuki didn’t look at him. But he also didn’t move.
A few minutes passed like that.
Then Katsuki spoke again. “…You always do that.”
Tyler blinked. “Do what?”
Katsuki glanced at him briefly. “Act like you already know what I’m going to do.”
Tyler thought about it. Then shook his head slightly. “No.” A pause. “I just hope I’m learning.”
That landed differently than Katsuki expected. Not presumptuous. Not confident. Just… trying.
Katsuki looked back at the screen. “…You’re annoying,” he said quietly.
Tyler smiled. “Yeah.” A beat. “But you came anyway.”
Katsuki didn’t respond. But his shoulder didn’t move away.
By the time the movie ended, neither of them had moved much. The credits rolled across the screen. Cars started turning back on one by one. The world slowly returning to motion.
Tyler turned the key in the ignition but didn’t leave immediately. “…Did you hate it?” he asked.
Katsuki paused. Longer than necessary. Then— “…No.” A beat. “…It was fine.”
Tyler smiled. “That’s high praise from you.” Katsuki shot him a look. Tyler immediately nodded. “Sorry.” But he was still smiling.
They pulled out slowly with the rest of the cars. Headlights cutting through the dark. Quiet returning in pieces.
Halfway back, Katsuki spoke again. “…Weird night.”
Tyler hummed. “Yeah.” A pause. “…Good weird?”
Katsuki looked out the window. Then, quietly— “…Yeah.”
Tyler didn’t push for more. Didn’t fill the silence. Just let it exist. And for Katsuki, that was the strangest part of all. That something could be quiet. And still feel like it meant something.
***
The next day, after class, Katsuki was walking back to his dorm room when he heard something.
“So, you finally hooked up with that roommate of yours?”
Tyler laughs, “Nah, not really. He’s just fun to mess with.”
Katsuki hears only that part and walks away before Tyler finishes:
“…Besides, if I actually liked someone, I wouldn't be joking around this much.”
Katsuki’s heart hammered against his chest as he turned away before anyone could see the hurt on his face. He didn’t stop walking, afraid that if he did, he’d hear something that would only make it worse. His mind replayed every smile Tyler had ever given him, every teasing remark, every quiet moment they’d shared in their dorm room. Moments Katsuki had carefully tucked away as proof that maybe—just maybe—they were becoming something more. Now they all felt tainted. Maybe Tyler had been laughing at him the whole time. Maybe those kisses had been nothing more than a joke to someone who kissed anyone willing to kiss him. Katsuki swallowed hard, his chest aching with a disappointment he had no right to feel. After all, Tyler had never promised him anything.
Katsuki started noticing other things that Tyler would do. Things that made him lose all the hope he had.
Tyler would flirt with literally everyone. Everyone that looked his way. He would wink, or smile, or laugh at unfunny jokes. He would compliment girls, get guys’ instagrams, and he would everyone.
Katsuki started to think that maybe the party didn’t mean anything. Maybe Tyler kisses everyone. It hurts because Tyler treats everyone warmly, making Katsuki feel like he wasn’t special.
Tyler started getting busy, blowing Katsuki off. Football games, parties, study groups… dates…
“We’ll hang out tomorrow.” Tyler would say.
Tomorrow never came.
Katsuki tells himself he doesn’t care… until he started eating dinner alone again.
One Tuesday, someone stops Katsuki in the hallway.
“Don’t fall for Tyler.”
Katsuki freezes, “What?”
“I’m serious. Tyler’s a great guy, but relationships aren’t really… his thing.”
That sentence stayed in Katsuki's mind for weeks.
After Tyler had finally invited Katsuki to another party, he catches Tyler leaving with someone.
“I’ll catch you later.” Tyler says to Katsuki, a girl hanging off his shoulder. She was drunk, and he was definitely getting lucky tonight.
Katsuki watches as they disappear upstairs. Nothing is confirmed. But Katsuki fills the blanks himself. He leaves the party early.
Other times, Tyler would blow off any chance of relationship they had by saying things like, “You’re like a little brother to me.”
Katsuki’s heart would drop to his feet.
To Tyler, it was affectionate. To Katsuki, it was like a rejection.
Or he would say things like, “Oh, this is Katsuki, my roommate.” When introducing Katsuki to someone.
Nothing more. No mention that they are close. No mention of all the nights they’ve spent talking. Katsuki realizes that he’s just… “The roommate.”
***
The next few days were… different. At least, that’s what Tyler thought. It started with the little things. Katsuki stopped waiting outside Tyler’s last class so they could walk back to the dorm together. Instead, by the time Tyler got home, Katsuki would already be sitting at his desk with headphones on, textbooks spread out in front of him. At dinner, Katsuki started eating with Kirishima and Izuku more often. Movie nights disappeared. The sarcastic comments that used to fill the room were replaced by polite, one-word answers.
“Morning.”
“Hey.”
“You using the shower?”
“No.”
“…Cool.”
It was quiet. Too quiet.
Tyler frowned as he tossed his backpack onto his bed. “Katsuki?”
“Hm?”
“You wanna grab dinner?”
“I’m already going.”
Tyler blinked.
“…Without me?”
Katsuki zipped up his hoodie, avoiding his eyes. “Deku asked first.”
“Oh.” The word left Tyler before he could stop it.
Katsuki slung his backpack over one shoulder. “I’ll probably be back late.”
“Late?”
“The library.”
Tyler scratched the back of his neck. “…Right.”
There was another pause. One that neither of them seemed to know how to fill.
“See you.” The door clicked shut behind Katsuki.
Tyler stared at it for several seconds. “…Weird.”
It wasn’t just one day. It became a week. Katsuki left before Tyler woke up. He stayed on campus until long after sunset. He always had somewhere else to be. Or someone else to be with. And when they were in the dorm together… It felt like living with a stranger again.
One Thursday night, Tyler walked into the room carrying takeout. “I got your favorite.”
No response. He looked around. Empty.
There was a sticky note on Katsuki’s desk.
Studying. Don’t wait up.
Tyler frowned. The food suddenly didn’t seem as appetizing. He set the second container in the mini-fridge. Again.
By Friday, Tyler had had enough. Katsuki unlocked the dorm door just after ten, rubbing the exhaustion from his eyes. The room was dark except for the glow of Tyler’s desk lamp.
Tyler looked up from where he’d been pretending to study. “There you are.”
Katsuki paused. “…Yeah.”
“You’ve been gone all week.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Busy.”
Katsuki nodded once. “Midterms.”
Tyler watched him for a long moment. “You’re lying.”
Katsuki froze for the briefest second before continuing toward his dresser. “I’m not.”
“You are.”
Silence.
Tyler stood. “Did I do something?”
Katsuki busied himself folding a hoodie that didn’t need folding. “No.”
“Then why are you avoiding me?”
“I’m not avoiding you.”
Tyler let out a frustrated laugh. “You stopped eating with me.” No answer. “You stopped walking home with me.” Still nothing. “You barely even look at me anymore.”
Katsuki’s hands stopped moving. The room fell painfully quiet. Finally, he spoke. “…I told you.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “I’ve just been busy.”
Tyler knew it wasn’t the truth. He could hear it in Katsuki’s voice. But he also knew pushing harder wasn’t going to get him anywhere.
“…Okay.” It was a small word. Disappointed. Resigned.
Tyler sat back down at his desk. Katsuki disappeared into the bathroom a moment later, quietly shutting the door behind him. Only then did he let himself lean against it, squeezing his eyes shut. He hated lying. He hated hurting Tyler. But every time he looked at him, he heard those words echoing in his head. He’s just fun to mess with. So Katsuki did the only thing he knew how to do. He put distance between them—before his heart could get any more attached.
***
A few days after their argument, the distance between them hadn’t gotten any smaller. If anything, it had grown. Tyler had stopped asking Katsuki to grab dinner. Stopped knocking on his bedroom door before heading to class. Stopped asking if he wanted to watch a movie. Not because he didn’t want to. Because every invitation had been met with another excuse.
I’m studying.
I already ate.
Maybe another time.
After enough “maybe another times,” Tyler quit asking.
That should’ve made things easier. Instead, it only made the room feel emptier. It wasn’t until the following Tuesday that Tyler finally saw Katsuki laughing again. Unfortunately… It wasn’t with him. Tyler was walking across campus with a couple of friends when he spotted Katsuki sitting beneath a large oak tree outside the music building. Across from him sat a girl from the band program. She had dark curls pulled into a messy bun and was animatedly telling some story with wild hand gestures. Katsuki laughed. Actually laughed. His shoulders relaxed. His eyes crinkled. It was the same laugh Tyler hadn’t heard in weeks. The one Tyler had been trying—and failing—to coax out of him.
“…Who’s that?” Tyler asked without thinking.
One of his friends glanced over. “Oh.” He shrugged. “I think her name’s Emi. She’s in band.”
Tyler nodded. “Huh.”
He should’ve kept walking. Instead, his feet slowed. He watched as Emi reached across the picnic table and brushed a leaf out of Katsuki’s hair. Katsuki blinked in surprise before smiling sheepishly.Tyler’s stomach twisted.
“…Dude.” One of his friends elbowed him. “You coming?”
Tyler tore his eyes away. “Yeah.”
He caught up with them, but the image lingered in his head the rest of the day. That evening, Katsuki came back to the dorm later than usual. Tyler was pretending to watch TV. Pretending. Because he’d barely followed a single scene.
“Hey,” Katsuki said quietly as he dropped his backpack by the door.
“Hey.”
Silence.
Tyler tried not to ask. He failed. “…How was your day?”
“It was fine.”
“You were with… Emi?”
Katsuki looked over, surprised. “Yeah.”
“Band?”
“Mhm.”
Tyler nodded slowly. “…You guys seem close.”
Katsuki shrugged as he pulled a hoodie over his head. “We’ve been studying together.”
“Oh.” Another pause. “She’s nice.”
“She is.”
Tyler hated how much those two words bothered him. He picked at a loose thread on the couch. “…She’s kinda pretty.”
Katsuki looked at him for a second. “I guess.”
I guess? That wasn’t the enthusiastic agreement Tyler had been expecting. “So…” Tyler tried to sound casual. “You like her?”
Katsuki frowned. “What?”
“I mean… you’re spending a lot of time together.”
Katsuki stared at him, confused. “No.”
“So you’re not…?”
“No.”
Tyler’s shoulders relaxed before he could stop them. “…Oh.”
Katsuki noticed. His brow furrowed ever so slightly. “Why?”
Tyler froze. Why? Because the thought of Katsuki dating someone else had made something in his chest tighten. Because seeing someone else make Katsuki laugh had bothered him more than it should have. Because for the first time in his life, the attention he usually took for granted wasn’t aimed at him—and he couldn’t stand it. But none of those answers made any sense. So he settled for the safest one.
“I was just curious.”
Katsuki held his gaze for a moment, as if searching for something. Then he nodded once. “…Okay.”
He disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Tyler alone with the television still playing in the background. Tyler leaned back against the couch, rubbing a hand over his face. “What the hell is wrong with me?” he muttered. He’d never cared who his friends spent time with. He’d never cared if someone laughed at another person’s jokes. So why did it feel like he’d been replaced? The realization hovered just out of reach, refusing to fully form. He wasn’t ready to admit it yet. But for the first time, Tyler found himself wishing Katsuki would walk through the door, flop onto his bed, and call him an idiot. Because somehow, somewhere along the way… The quiet had become the worst part of his day.
***
The music thumped through the fraternity house, loud enough to rattle the walls. Katsuki already regretted coming. He wasn’t much for parties to begin with, but Kirishima had insisted. “Come on, man. You’ve been holed up in the dorm all week.” So here he was, clutching a red plastic cup he hadn’t taken a sip from, standing awkwardly against the kitchen counter while people laughed and shouted over the music. He scanned the room almost instinctively. Looking for Tyler. It didn’t take long. Tyler was exactly where everyone expected him to be—the center of attention. He was leaning against the couch, laughing with a group of people, effortlessly charming as always. Someone shoved him playfully, and he shoved them back with a grin. Katsuki looked away. Of course.
An hour later, Katsuki was helping Kirishima carry empty cups into the kitchen when he heard Tyler laugh from the hallway. Not the loud, obnoxious laugh he used with his friends. The softer one. Curious despite himself, Katsuki glanced toward the sound. Tyler was standing just outside the back door with a girl from one of his classes. She was pretty. The kind of pretty Katsuki had stopped comparing himself to because he always lost. She said something that made Tyler smile. Then she reached up and adjusted the backwards baseball cap on his head.
“You always wear this thing crooked,” she teased.
Tyler chuckled. “Guess I need you around, then.”
She rolled her eyes, smiling. “You flirt with everybody.”
“I don’t.”
“You literally are right now.”
Tyler laughed instead of denying it.
Katsuki felt something sink in his chest. He should’ve walked away. Instead, he watched. The girl stepped closer. Close enough that their shoulders touched. Tyler didn’t move. She said something too quiet for Katsuki to hear. Tyler smiled again—that same easy smile Katsuki had convinced himself meant something when it was directed at him. Then she leaned up and kissed Tyler. Just for a second. Quick. Casual. Like it wasn’t the first time. Tyler kissed her back. When they pulled apart, Tyler rested his forehead against hers, laughing quietly at something she’d whispered. Katsuki’s grip tightened around the stack of plastic cups in his hands until one of them cracked.
“Kacchan?” Izuku’s voice sounded far away. “You good?”
Katsuki tore his eyes away. “…Yeah.”
“You look kinda pale.”
“I’m fine.”
“You sure?”
“I said I’m fine.” His voice came out sharper than he intended.
Izuku blinked. “…Okay.”
Katsuki shoved the cracked cups into the trash and headed for the front door.
“Where’re you going?”
“Home.”
“The party just started.”
“I’m tired.”
Before Izuku could argue, Katsuki slipped outside. The cool night air hit him like a wave. He shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket and started walking. He didn’t bother calling for a ride. Didn’t bother texting anyone. The walk back to campus was nearly forty minutes. He welcomed it. Every step gave him something to focus on besides the image burned into his mind. Tyler smiling. Tyler laughing. Tyler kissing someone else. Of course he did. He’d never promised Katsuki anything. Never said the beach kisses meant more than a game. Never hinted they were exclusive. Everything Tyler had done could be explained away as him simply being… Tyler. The only person who’d made it into something more was Katsuki. A bitter laugh escaped him.
“You’re a good kisser.”
“Let’s go home.”
“You gonna make me move?”
He’d replayed those moments so many times they’d started to feel special. Now they just felt embarrassing. How could he have been so stupid?
Nearly an hour later, Tyler unlocked the dorm room door. “Katsuki?”
No answer. The room was dark except for the desk lamp. Katsuki was lying on his side, facing the wall.
“…You asleep?” Tyler frowned. Normally Katsuki would’ve told him to shut up. He set his keys down quietly. “You left without saying goodbye.” Still nothing. Tyler sighed. “…Night, Kats.” No response.
Tyler changed into a T-shirt and climbed into bed, confused by the cold distance that had settled between them. Across the room, Katsuki stared at the wall with his eyes wide open. He hadn’t been asleep. He simply didn’t trust himself to speak. If he did… He was afraid his voice would break.
***
Weeks later, the fraternity house was packed. Music shook the walls, people crowded every room, and someone was already trying to start another game of beer pong in the living room. Normally, Tyler would’ve been right in the middle of it. Tonight… Something felt off. He leaned against the kitchen counter, laughing at one of his friend’s stories, but his eyes kept drifting toward the front door. Every time it opened, his head turned instinctively. A group of freshmen stumbled inside. Not Katsuki. Tyler looked away.
“…So then he actually tried to tell the professor his dog ate his homework,” one of his friends finished.
The group burst into laughter. Tyler chuckled along, though he hadn’t heard half the story. A few minutes later, the front door opened again. His eyes flicked over. Just another couple. He frowned.
“Yo.”
Tyler blinked. “Hm?”
“You even listening?”
“…Yeah.”
“Dude.” His friend narrowed his eyes. “Who’re you looking for?”
Tyler scoffed. “No one.”
“Bull.”
“I’m serious.”
“You’ve checked that door like… six times.”
“I have not.”
“You absolutely have.”
Another friend laughed. “Waiting on a hookup?”
Tyler rolled his eyes. “No.”
“So who is it?”
“No one.”
They all stared at him.
Tyler sighed dramatically. “My roommate might’ve said he’d stop by.”
“Ooooh.” The group immediately started grinning. “The band nerd?”
Tyler pointed a warning finger. “Don’t.”
“What?”
“You’ve been attached at the hip all semester.”
“We live together.”
“You don’t have to spend every waking second together.”
“We don’t.”
“Sure.”
Tyler folded his arms. “He’s just…” He paused. “…Late.”
One of his friends smirked. “Or maybe he’s not coming.”
Tyler shrugged like it didn’t matter. “Whatever.” But his eyes drifted back to the door anyway.
Twenty minutes passed. The party got louder. Tyler got quieter. Someone handed him another drink. He barely touched it. Instead, he pulled out his phone.
“u coming?” He stared at the screen. Delivered. A minute passed. Then two. Nothing. He shoved his phone back into his pocket.
“Still waiting?” one friend teased.
Tyler groaned. “I am not waiting.”
“Mhm.”
“He said he might come.”
“So you are waiting.”
Tyler opened his mouth to argue. Then closed it again. Because… Maybe he was.
Another half hour slipped by. The front door opened once more. Tyler looked up so quickly that he nearly spilled his drink. Not Katsuki. Just another group from the football team. His shoulders fell before he could stop them.
“Damn.”
“What?”
Tyler blinked. “…Nothing.”
His friend followed his gaze to the door before looking back at Tyler with a knowing smile. “You really wanted him to come.”
“I just figured it’d be more fun if he was here.” The words left Tyler’s mouth without any thought.
The table went silent. One friend raised an eyebrow. “…You know, that’s probably the nicest thing you’ve ever said about somebody.”
Tyler laughed awkwardly. “Shut up.”
“No, seriously.” Another friend leaned forward. “When’s the last time you spent an entire party looking for one person?”
Tyler frowned. “I don’t know.”
“I’m guessing…” His friend pretended to think. “…Never.”
Tyler looked toward the door again. For the first time all night… He realized they might be right. He wasn’t looking for someone. He’d been looking for Katsuki. And somehow… The party didn’t feel nearly as fun without him.
Across campus, Katsuki sat alone in the nearly empty music building, his trumpet case resting against his chair. His phone buzzed once. He glanced down.
“u coming?”
His thumb hovered over the keyboard. He wanted to say yes. God, he wanted to. Instead, he locked his phone and slipped it back into his pocket. It’s better this way, he told himself. If he kept his distance long enough… Maybe one day, seeing Tyler with someone else wouldn’t hurt anymore. He just didn’t know how many nights like this it would take.
The music building was almost eerie after midnight. Gone were the scattered conversations, the clatter of instrument cases, and the occasional bursts of laughter from rehearsals. Now, the only sounds were the faint buzz of fluorescent lights and the soft tapping of Katsuki’s pencil against his notebook. His calculus textbook sat open in front of him. He’d been staring at the same page for nearly twenty minutes. He hadn’t read a single word. Instead, his thoughts kept wandering back to Tyler. The party. The girl. The kiss. Katsuki squeezed his eyes shut.
“Get over it.”
Tyler hadn’t done anything wrong. They weren’t together. They’d never been together. So why did it feel like he’d been broken up with?
Across campus, Tyler unlocked the dorm room. The clock on the microwave blinked 1:18 A.M. “…Katsu?”
Silence. He frowned. Again. The room had become painfully predictable these past two weeks. One bed made. One desk empty. One lamp turned off. Katsuki was gone. Tyler tossed his keys onto his desk with a sigh before pulling out his phone.
“where r u?”
He hit send. A few seconds later… Delivered. No response. Tyler frowned harder.
Back in the music building, Katsuki’s phone vibrated against the table. He looked down.
Tyler: where r u?
His chest tightened. He could almost picture Tyler standing in the middle of their dorm room, hair still messy from the wind outside, wondering where he’d gone. His fingers hovered over the screen.He typed.“studying” He stared at it. Then deleted it. He typed again. “i’ll be back later” Deleted. Finally, he slipped the phone face-down on the table. If he answered, Tyler would keep talking. If Tyler kept talking… Katsuki wasn’t sure he’d have the strength to keep pretending everything was fine.
Back at the dorm, Tyler dropped onto his bed with a groan. “…Seriously?” He checked his phone again. Nothing. He tossed it onto the pillow beside him. Maybe Katsuki really was studying. Still… A weird feeling settled in his stomach. Not worry exactly. Just… Disappointment. The room felt too quiet. He caught himself glancing toward the door every few minutes, listening for footsteps in the hallway. Nothing. Eventually, exhaustion won. The bedside lamp clicked off.
2:43 A.M. The lock turned with a quiet click. Katsuki eased the door open as slowly as he could, wincing when the hinges creaked. The room was dark except for the glow of the digital alarm clock. 2:43. He kicked off his shoes and tiptoed inside.
“So…” Tyler’s sleepy voice cut through the silence. “…You are alive.”
Katsuki jumped. “I thought you were asleep.”
“I was.” Tyler rolled onto his side, rubbing one eye. “Then you woke me up.”
“…Sorry.”
“It’s fine.” Another silence. Tyler squinted at him through the darkness. “You were at the library?”
“…Yeah.” The lie came too easily now.
Tyler hummed. “You’ve been studying a lot lately.”
“Mhm.”
“You okay?”
Katsuki’s hand tightened around the strap of his backpack. “…I’m fine.”
Tyler watched him for a moment. Even half-asleep, something felt… off. Katsuki wouldn’t look at him. Wouldn’t joke. Wouldn’t tell him to mind his own business. He just looked… Tired. The kind of tired that had nothing to do with sleep.
“…Night,” Tyler said quietly.
“…Night.” Katsuki disappeared into the bathroom. The door clicked shut.
He turned on the faucet—not because he needed water, but because he didn’t want Tyler to hear him exhale shakily. He gripped the edge of the sink and stared at his reflection. His eyes looked dull. There were dark circles forming beneath them. “This is ridiculous,” he whispered to himself. He was hiding in empty practice rooms until three in the morning just to avoid the one person he wanted to be around most. He laughed under his breath. It wasn’t funny.
When Katsuki finally crawled into bed, he assumed Tyler had fallen back asleep. He hadn’t. Across the room, Tyler lay awake, staring at the ceiling. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Katsuki was slipping through his fingers. He just didn’t know why. And somehow… Not knowing hurt more than he expected.
***
Three days later, Tyler got sick. At first, he insisted it was allergies.
“It’s just pollen,” he’d muttered between sneezes, waving Katsuki away when he suggested buying medicine.
By lunchtime, he’d skipped two classes. By dinner, he’d stopped answering texts. By the next morning… Tyler couldn’t get out of bed.
Katsuki paused in the doorway, backpack still slung over one shoulder. “…Tyler?” No response. The curtains were still drawn, leaving the room dim except for a sliver of sunlight creeping across the floor. Tyler was buried beneath his comforter, one arm hanging limply over the side of the bed. That alone was enough to worry Katsuki. Tyler was never still.
“…Hey.” Katsuki stepped closer. When he placed the back of his hand against Tyler’s forehead, he immediately pulled it away. “…Jesus.” Tyler was burning up.
A groan escaped the other bed. “’M fine…”
“You’ve got a fever.”
“No, I don’t.”
“You are literally on fire.”
“M’not.”
“You don’t even know what you’re saying.”
Tyler cracked one eye open. “…Rude.”
Katsuki rolled his eyes, though the corner of his mouth twitched. “You sound like you’re dying.”
“I’ll survive.”
“Barely.”
Without another word, Katsuki grabbed his keys.
“Where’re you going…?”
“To the store.”
Tyler frowned weakly. “…Why?”
“Because someone in this room clearly isn’t capable of taking care of himself.”
Tyler managed a tired grin. “You worried about me?”
“No.”
“Liar.”
“…Go back to sleep.”
An hour later, Katsuki returned carrying two grocery bags.
Tyler blinked blearily from his bed. “…What’s all that?”
“Medicine.” Katsuki unpacked the bags one item at a time. “Cough drops.” A bottle landed on Tyler’s desk. “Pain reliever.” Another. “Electrolytes.” Another. “Canned soup.”
Tyler watched in silence. “…You bought all this?”
“You would’ve done something stupid like survive on energy drinks.”
“I would’ve been fine.”
“You would’ve ended up in the hospital.”
“Bit dramatic.”
“You don’t know how to take care of yourself.”
“I know exactly how to—” Tyler was interrupted by a coughing fit that left him wheezing.
Katsuki simply raised an eyebrow. “…You were saying?”
“…Shut up.”
While Tyler drifted back to sleep, Katsuki stood in the tiny communal kitchen at the end of the hall. He wasn’t much of a cook. But he could make soup. At least… He hoped he could. Thirty minutes later, he carefully carried a steaming bowl back to the dorm.
Tyler stirred as the smell reached him. “…That smells good.”
“It better.” Katsuki set the bowl on the nightstand. “I almost burned it.”
Tyler laughed weakly. “…Thanks.”
Katsuki shrugged. “It’s just soup.”
But he stayed while Tyler ate. Every few minutes he’d remind him to drink water. Or take another bite. Or blow on the spoon before burning his tongue. Tyler complained the entire time. He did everything Katsuki told him anyway.
By evening, Tyler’s fever had climbed even higher. Katsuki sighed as he soaked a washcloth under cold water before wringing it out.
“You know,” Tyler mumbled, eyes still closed, “you’re bossy.”
“I’m keeping you alive.”
“Barely.”
“You have a very strange definition of gratitude.”
Tyler smiled lazily. “…Mom?”
Katsuki blinked. “…What?”
“You sound like my mom.”
Katsuki snorted. “I’m offended.”
Tyler’s smile grew. “…You’re prettier.”
Silence. Katsuki nearly dropped the washcloth. “…You have a fever.”
“Mhm.”
“You’re delirious.”
“Mhm.”
“You have absolutely no idea what you’re saying.”
Tyler only hummed in agreement before drifting back to sleep, the faint smile never leaving his face.
Katsuki stared at him for a long moment before gently laying the cool cloth across his forehead. His heart was doing that stupid thing again. The one he’d been trying so hard to stop.
“…Idiot,” he whispered, though there wasn’t any bite behind the word.
The next morning, Tyler’s fever had finally broken. He stretched with a groan and squinted at the room around him. A half-empty bowl of soup sat on his desk. Medicine bottles were lined up in neat rows. A folded blanket rested over the chair beside his bed. Katsuki was asleep at his own desk, head resting on crossed arms, an open textbook beneath him. He’d never made it to bed. Tyler sat there quietly, taking in the scene. For a moment, he forgot about parties, flirting, and everyone else. He only saw the person who had stayed. Who’d skipped classes, made soup, and spent the night making sure he was okay. A warmth spread through his chest that had nothing to do with the fever.
He smiled to himself. “…Thanks, Kats.”
Katsuki didn’t stir.
Tyler reached for the blanket draped over the chair and, after a brief hesitation, stood to gently lay it over Katsuki’s shoulders. It was a small gesture. But for the first time in a long while, taking care of someone else felt just as natural as being taken care of. Neither of them realized it yet, but the balance between them had begun to shift.
***
Tyler was halfway through his sandwich when he spotted Katsuki across the student union. He was sitting at one of the corner tables with a guy Tyler had never seen before. Tall. Dark hair. Definitely from the music department, judging by the instrument case leaning against his chair. The two of them were laughing about something. Katsuki looked… Happy.
Tyler frowned. “…Who’s that?”
Sero glanced up from his phone. “Hm?”
“The guy with Katsu.”
Sero followed Tyler’s gaze. “Oh!” He smiled. “That’s Ren. He’s first chair trumpet.”
“They seem… close.”
Sero shrugged. “They’ve been spending a lot of time together lately.”
“Huh.” Tyler took another bite of his sandwich. It suddenly tasted like cardboard.
Across the room, Ren leaned across the table. “So…” Katsuki looked up. “You coming to the jazz showcase Friday?”
“Probably.”
“You should.” Ren smiled. “I saved you a seat.”
Katsuki laughed. “You didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to.”
Tyler’s jaw tightened.
“…You okay?”
Tyler blinked. “What?”
Sero looked at him strangely. “You’ve been staring for like… five minutes.”
“I wasn’t staring.”
“Mhm.”
“I was just…” Tyler searched for an excuse. “…Watching.”
Sero chuckled. “That’s called staring.”
Tyler rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”
Then Ren reached over. He brushed a tiny piece of paper off Katsuki’s shoulder. Such a small gesture. Barely anything. But Tyler’s stomach twisted. Before he could think better of it, he stood. “I’m gonna go say hi.”
Sero looked up. “…Okay?”
“Katsu.”
Katsuki looked over, surprised. “Oh.”
“Hey.” Tyler smiled. “There you are.”
He didn’t even realize what he was doing as he stepped beside Katsuki’s chair. Without thinking… He rested an arm across the back of Katsuki’s chair, close enough that his fingers brushed Katsuki’s shoulder. Comfortable. Familiar. Like he’d done it a hundred times.
Katsuki stiffened. “…Tyler?”
“What’s up?”
“Nothing.”
Tyler finally looked at the other guy. “You gonna introduce me?”
Katsuki blinked. “Oh. Tyler, this is Ren.”
Ren smiled politely. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too.”
A slightly awkward silence settled over the table.
Then Ren looked between them. “So…” He smiled. “You guys dating?”
Time stopped.
Tyler’s arm instantly dropped away from Katsuki’s chair. “What? No.” The answer came much too fast.
Beside him, Katsuki quietly echoed, “…No.”
Ren looked embarrassed. “Oh. My bad. I just figured since you two seem really comfortable—”
“We’re roommates,” Tyler interrupted with a laugh. “That’s all.”
Katsuki looked down at the table. “…Yeah.”
Just roommates. The words landed heavier than Tyler intended.
Ren checked the time. “I’ve gotta head to rehearsal.” He stood, slinging his instrument case over his shoulder. “I’ll text you later?”
Katsuki nodded. “See you.”
As Ren walked away, the silence between Tyler and Katsuki became almost unbearable.
Tyler shoved his hands into his pockets. “…He seems nice.”
“He is.”
Another pause.
“You guys hang out a lot?”
“Sometimes.”
“He single?”
Katsuki frowned. “…Why?”
Tyler opened his mouth. Closed it. Why was he asking? “…Just curious.”
Katsuki studied him for a long moment. “…Right.” He stood, gathering his backpack. “I should get to class.”
“Oh.” Tyler nodded.
“Yeah.”
“See you later.”
“…See you.” Katsuki walked away.
Tyler watched until he disappeared into the crowd.
Later that afternoon, Tyler was shooting hoops with Kirishima. The basketball bounced off the rim for the third time in a row.
“Dude.” Kirishima caught it. “You suck today.”
Tyler sighed. “I’m distracted.”
“No kidding.” Kirishima spun the ball on one finger. “What’s going on?”
Tyler hesitated. “…Can I ask you something?”
“Shoot.”
Tyler scratched the back of his neck. “…Is it weird if…” He trailed off.
“If what?”
“…If someone else starts hanging out with your roommate…”
“…Okay.”
“And it kind of…” He searched for the right word. “…Bothers you.”
Kirishima slowly lowered the basketball. “…How much does it bother you?”
“I don’t know.” Tyler frowned. “I just…” He sighed. “It feels like he’s got time for everyone except me.”
Kirishima stared at him. Then a slow grin spread across his face. “Oh.”
Tyler narrowed his eyes. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“Kirishima.”
“Nah.” He tossed the ball back. “I think you’ll figure it out.”
Tyler caught it, confused. “…Figure what out?”
Kirishima only laughed. “Just… don’t wait too long.”
As Tyler watched the ball spin in his hands, his thoughts drifted back to the student union. To Ren. To Katsuki laughing. To the question that had made his heart race for reasons he still couldn’t explain. “You guys dating?” He’d answered without hesitation. But for the rest of the day… He couldn’t stop wondering why hearing someone else ask the question had made him wish, just for a second, that the answer had been different.
***
The weekend came faster than either of them expected. The dorm had settled into an uneasy routine. Wake up. Go to class. Exchange a few polite words. Go to sleep. Repeat. The silence between them had become almost normal. Almost.
Friday night, Tyler pushed open the dorm room door with a laugh. “You are terrible at Mario Kart.”
“Oh, shut up,” a girl’s voice answered from behind him. “You got lucky.”
“I got first.”
“Barely.”
“You still lost.”
She nudged his shoulder, rolling her eyes. “I want a rematch.”
“You’ll lose again.”
“We’ll see.”
Tyler laughed as he stepped fully into the room. “Katsu?” Silence. He glanced toward Katsuki’s side of the room. Empty. “Guess he’s still at the library.”
“Roommate?” the girl asked.
“Yeah.”
“He won’t mind?”
Tyler shook his head. “Nah.”
She wandered farther into the room, looking around at the mismatched decorations. “So…” She smiled. “Which side’s yours?”
Tyler pointed. “The messy one.”
“I could’ve guessed.”
“Rude.”
She laughed. “You practically live out of a laundry basket.”
“It’s organized chaos.”
“If that’s what you wanna call it.”
Tyler grinned. “You hungry? I think we’ve got—”
His sentence was cut short when she reached up and fixed the collar of his hoodie. “You always wear this crooked.”
“Oh?”
“There.” She smoothed the fabric with a smile. “Better.”
Tyler looked down. “…Thanks.”
She smiled. “You’re welcome.”
For a moment, they simply stood there. Then she leaned up and kissed him. It was brief. Easy. Familiar. Tyler kissed her back out of habit more than anything else. The dorm door clicked open. Neither of them heard it. Katsuki stepped inside, balancing a stack of music books against his chest. He froze. His eyes landed on Tyler. Then on the girl. Then on the way they sprang apart. The books slipped from Katsuki’s hands. They hit the floor with a loud thud.
Tyler turned so quickly he nearly stumbled. “Katsu—”
Katsuki bent down immediately, gathering his books before either of them could help. “Sorry.” His voice was flat. “I…” He swallowed. “I forgot my notebook.”
The girl looked between them. “…I can go.”
“No,” Katsuki answered before Tyler could speak. He shoved the notebook into his backpack without looking up. “It’s fine.”
“Katsuki—”
“I’m just leaving.”
Tyler took a step forward. “You don’t have to.” Katsuki finally met his eyes. For the first time in weeks… Tyler saw genuine hurt there. Not anger. Not annoyance. Just hurt. “It’s your room too.” His voice was calm. Too calm. “You shouldn’t have to leave because of me.”
Before Tyler could respond, Katsuki slipped past him. The door clicked shut. Silence.
The girl looked toward the closed door. “…Is he okay?”
Tyler didn’t answer. He kept staring at the door.
“…Tyler?”
“Hm?”
“You look like someone died.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know.” Something felt… Wrong. He’d kissed plenty of people before. Why did this time leave a pit in his stomach? Why had Katsuki’s face looked like that?
The girl gave him a small, understanding smile. “…Maybe you should go after him.”
Tyler glanced toward the door. “I…” He hesitated. Would Katsuki even want him to? He’d been pushing Tyler away for weeks. Maybe chasing after him would only make things worse. “…He probably just wants space.” The words sounded hollow even to Tyler.
The girl studied him for a long moment. Then she quietly picked up her jacket. “I think I’m gonna head home.”
Tyler looked up. “You don’t have to.”
“I know.” She smiled sadly. “But I don’t think you’re really here with me.” She squeezed his arm before walking toward the door. As she left, she paused. “For what it’s worth…” Tyler looked over. “…I don’t think you’re upset because your roommate walked in.” She left before he could ask what she meant.
Outside, Katsuki wandered aimlessly across campus. He didn’t know where he was going. He just knew he couldn’t go back. Not yet. The image kept replaying in his head. Tyler smiling. Someone else’s hands on his hoodie. That kiss. It shouldn’t have hurt. Tyler had every right to kiss whoever he wanted. But knowing that didn’t stop the ache spreading through Katsuki’s chest. He laughed bitterly to himself. “You’re a good kisser.” Maybe Tyler had said that to dozens of people. Maybe Katsuki had never been unique at all. He stopped at an empty bench outside the music building and sat down, staring into the darkness. For the first time since coming to college… Home wasn’t the dorm anymore. It was just the place Tyler happened to live.
***
One night, after a party, Tyler came home drunk.
Tyler find Katsuki organizing his bookshelf. He went up behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist. “…katsu.”
Katsuki freezed, “Y-yes?”
“I miss you…” Tyler mumbled, burying his face in Katsuki’s neck.
Katsuki stood there silently, his heart pounding.
Tyler spun him around, making Katsuki face him. Tyler runs his hands over Katsuki’s waist. “I want you…”
Katsuki’s eyes widened, he looked up at him. “What do you mean?”
“I wanna fuck you, katsu.” Tyler said, leaning down to kiss Katsuki’s neck.
“Tyler…”
“Katsuki…” Tyler mumbled, pulling him towards his bed.
“Tyler, we shouldn’t do this.”
“But I want to.”
Katsuki hesitates before giving in. What’s one time gonna hurt? “Just… wear a condom.”
“Yes sir.”
Tyler pushes Katsuki down onto his bed.
“Tyler… I'm still… a virgin.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
Tyler leaned down and kissed Katsuki hungrily. Like he had been starved for weeks. He ran his hands under Katsuki’s shirt, feeling the soft skin there. Katsuki shivers at the feeling of Tyler’s hands on his bare skin.
Katsuki lies back, looking up at Tyler with adoration and a hint of nervous excitement. "I've dreamed of this moment..."
“Then let me make it come true.” Tyler mumbled as he kissed Katsuki’s neck.
Katsuki bites his lip, his hands finding Tyler’s waist. "Please do... I'm all yours, Tyler."
Tyler leans up to kiss him again. Katsuki melts into the kiss, letting Tyler explore his mouth. His breathing becomes heavier, and he pulls him closer with one hand.
“Those braces are my weakness.” Tyler says against his lips as he slides his hand down to Katsuki’s waist.
His waist is thin and sensitive. He arches slightly into Tyler’s touch. "Mmm... Tyler..." He whispers, his voice desperate and needy. His hands roam Tyler’s back, and he looks at him with desire-filled eyes. "I want you so bad..."
Tyler pulls back, “I can’t…”
He pauses immediately, concern replacing desire. "Can't what? We don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with." He removes his hands, respecting Tyler’s boundaries.
“I can't treat you how you want.” Tyler says. “I only know physical... I don't know love.”
Katsuki cups Tyler’s face gently, looking into your black eyes. "You're already showing me love. Being here with me, caring for me... that's love to me."
“Are you sure this is what you want?”
Katsuki nods firmly, sure of his feelings. "I've never been more sure of anything. I want you, all of you - even the parts you think are broken."
“It’s not gonna be gentle.” Tyler says.
Katsuki already knows Tyler sleeps with a lot of people and is not known to be gentle.
Katsuki swallows hard, understanding the warning. "I can handle it. I trust you to guide me." His eyes show both nervousness and excitement at the prospect of experiencing something new with Tyler.
Tyler reaches over into his drawer and pulls out lube and a box of condoms.
Katsuki’s eyes widened at the items, a blush spreading across his face. "You... you came prepared." He chuckles nervously.
“They actually just stay in my drawer.”
“Oh. Well, that makes sense. You’re… quite popular.”
“Let’s not focus on that. Let’s focus on us.”
Katsuki smiles softly, agreeing. "Yes, just us. No one else matters right now." He pulls Tyler back down to him.
He kisses deeply, his hands returning to Tyler’s waist. "Mmm..." He moans again, more confidently this time.
Tyler pulls his shirt off. Katsuki’s eyes follow Tyler’s movements, watching intently as he reveals himself. "You're beautiful..." He breathes, mesmerized by Tyler’s toned body.
Tyler pulls his shirt off, “You are too.”
Katsuki blushes darker at the compliment, helping Tyler with his shirt. He's skinny and pale, with a few freckles.
They end up having rough sex. Katsuki gripping the bedsheets as Tyler takes control. After they both finish, Tyler collapses beside him.
Katsuki pants heavily, covered in sweat and bite marks. "That was... incredible." He turns to look at Tyler, still catching his breath.
Tyler turns his head to look at him, “Wanna go again?”
Katsuki thinks this sounds strange because he knows that when Tyler gets with someone they only get it once.
His eyes widened in surprise at Tyler’s offer. "R-really? You want to again?" He asks, hopeful and excited, but also confused.
Tyler nods.
Katsuki grins widely, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten. "Yes... please." Katsuki moves closer, ready for another round with Tyler.
They end up running through a whole box of condoms. Only stopping because they ran out.
By the end, Katsuki is completely wrecked. His body is sore and bruised, and he can barely move.
"I've never... done that much in one night..." Tyler laughs weakly, utterly spent.
Katsuki looks at the empty box and then at Tyler. "You really weren't kidding about being rough." He traces a finger over a particularly nasty hickey on his neck.
His body is covered in hickeys and bite marks.
***
A week later, Katsuki continued to flirt with people and Tyler continued to sleep around which eventually led to an argument.
Rain pelted the pavement as Katsuki stormed out of the student union. He hadn’t meant to lose his temper. He hadn’t meant to say anything at all. He just… Couldn’t breathe in there anymore. Behind him, the doors slammed open.
“Katsuki!” He didn’t stop. “Katsu!”
His jaw clenched. “Go away.”
“I’m not letting you walk off like this!”
Katsuki laughed bitterly, never slowing his pace. “Since when do you care?”
Tyler finally caught up, grabbing his wrist just long enough to make Katsuki turn around. The rain soaked them both within seconds. “Katsu, will you just listen to me?”
“No.”
“Katsu—”
“You don’t get to do this.”
Tyler frowned. “Do what?”
“You don’t get to act like you have no idea why I’m upset.”
“I don’t know!”
Katsuki stared at him. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The rain filled the silence. Finally, Katsuki let out a humorless laugh. “…Of course you don’t.” His voice was quiet. Almost defeated. “You never noticed.”
Tyler’s stomach dropped. “Noticed what?”
Katsuki shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It obviously does.”
“No.” Katsuki looked away.
“It mattered to me.” Another silence. Tyler searched his face, trying to find the answer he’d somehow missed. “You’ve been avoiding me for weeks,” he said softly. “You barely look at me anymore. Every time I try to talk to you, you disappear.”
“Because it hurts.” The words slipped out before Katsuki could stop them.
Tyler blinked. “…What?”
Katsuki squeezed his eyes shut. “I said it hurts.”
“What hurts?”
“You.”
Tyler took an involuntary step back. “…Me?”
Katsuki laughed again, but it sounded closer to breaking than amusement. “You really don’t get it.”
“I want to.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I do!”
“No.” Katsuki finally met his eyes. His own were shining with unshed tears. “You just don’t like not having my attention anymore.”
Tyler opened his mouth. Nothing came out.
“You flirt with whoever you want. You leave parties with different people. You make everyone feel important.” His voice cracked. “And then you come back and act like I’m supposed to be okay with it.”
“I never expected—”
“You never had to.” The words were sharp enough to make Tyler flinch. “You never had to expect anything because you never had to think about how this looked from where I was standing.”
Tyler felt his chest tighten. “Katsuki…”
“I kept telling myself not to care.” Katsuki’s shoulders slumped. “I told myself we were just roommates.” He laughed weakly. “Then just friends.” Another shaky breath. “I kept making excuses because it was easier than admitting the truth.”
Tyler stood frozen. “The truth?”
Katsuki looked at him for a long time. “When you smiled at me…” His voice barely rose above the rain. “I thought maybe it meant something.” Tyler’s expression crumpled. “When you chose to spend time with me… I thought maybe I wasn’t just another person. When we stayed up talking until sunrise… I thought we were becoming important to each other.” He swallowed hard. “And every time I saw you with someone else…” His gaze dropped to the soaked pavement. “It felt like I was the only one living in a completely different story.”
The words hung between them. Tyler couldn’t speak. Because everything Katsuki was describing… He remembered every late-night conversation. Every inside joke. Every drive back to the dorm. Every stupid movie night. Those moments had mattered to him. He just… Had never stopped to ask why.
Katsuki took a slow step backward. “I’m tired.” His voice was exhausted. “Tired of pretending I’m okay. Tired of wondering if I ever mattered.” Another step. “So I’m done.”
Tyler’s heart lurched. “Katsu—”
“No.” Katsuki shook his head. “I’m choosing myself this time.”
He turned away. Tyler watched him go. For the first time since they’d met… He didn’t know how to make Katsuki laugh. He didn’t know what joke would fix this. He didn’t know how to stop the person who’d quietly become the most important part of his life from walking away. And as Katsuki disappeared into the rain, one thought echoed louder than the storm itself: I thought he knew. It was only then that Tyler understood the truth he’d been avoiding. He hadn’t been afraid of losing a roommate. He’d been terrified of losing Katsuki.
Tyler didn’t move. He stood in the rain long after Katsuki disappeared around the corner. His clothes clung to him, water dripping from the ends of his hair, but he barely noticed. All he could hear was Katsuki’s voice.
“It felt like I was the only one living in a completely different story.”
His chest tightened. Had Katsuki really been carrying that around all this time? Every late-night conversation… Every drive home… Every stupid argument that ended with them laughing instead… Every time Tyler had thrown an arm around his shoulders without thinking… Katsuki had seen those moments as something more.
Tyler dragged a hand down his face. “…Shit.”
No. It wasn’t just Katsuki. Those moments had meant something to him, too. He just hadn’t been honest enough with himself to admit it.
He walked back to the dorm in silence. The room greeted him with an emptiness that felt almost foreign. Katsuki’s bed was neatly made. His desk lamp was still on, illuminating an open music theory textbook. A mug sat beside it, long since gone cold. Tyler stared at it. Katsuki must have left in a hurry. Without thinking, Tyler reached over and switched off the lamp. The room immediately felt darker. Lonelier. He sat on the edge of his own bed. For the first time since freshman year… He didn’t know what to do.
A knock sounded at the door. Tyler ignored it. Another knock.
“Tyler?” Kirishima poked his head inside. “Dude… you look like hell.”
Tyler let out a hollow laugh. “Feel like it, too.”
Kirishima stepped inside, taking one look at the empty side of the room before piecing it together. “…You guys fought.”
Tyler nodded.
“Bad?”
Another nod.
Kirishima sat in Katsuki’s desk chair, turning it around to face him. “What happened?”
Tyler opened his mouth. Closed it. How was he supposed to explain something he barely understood himself? Finally, he spoke. “…He thinks I never cared.”
Kirishima was quiet. “And… did you?”
Tyler frowned. “What?”
“Care.”
“Of course I cared.”
“No.” Kirishima leaned forward. “I mean… really cared.”
Tyler looked away. “I don’t know.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“I know.”
Silence settled between them. Then Tyler spoke again. “He said he thought he wasn’t special.” The words caught in his throat. “I didn’t even know he felt that way.”
Kirishima’s expression softened. “Tyler…”
“I made him feel like he was just another person.” His voice cracked. “I never wanted that.”
Kirishima sighed. “I believe you.” Tyler looked up. “But intent doesn’t erase impact.” Those words landed harder than Tyler expected.
“I know.”
“You’ve always been the kind of guy who makes everybody feel important.”
Tyler nodded slowly. “I guess.”
“The problem is…” Kirishima continued, “…when you make everyone feel special, it gets really hard for the person who actually loves you to believe they’re different.”
Tyler froze. “…Loves me?”
Kirishima’s eyes widened. “You… didn’t know?”
Tyler stared.
“I thought…” Kirishima rubbed the back of his neck. “I thought you knew.”
“No.”
“He never said anything?”
Tyler laughed bitterly. “No.”
“He didn’t have to.”
The room fell silent. Tyler looked toward Katsuki’s empty bed. Every memory suddenly looked different. The nights Katsuki had fallen asleep at his desk because they’d stayed up talking. The way Katsuki always made sure Tyler ate before a big exam. The tiny smile he’d get whenever Tyler walked through the dorm door. The disappointment every time Tyler canceled plans. How had he missed it? Or… Had he simply refused to see it?
That night, Tyler couldn’t sleep. He rolled over. Katsuki’s bed was still empty. He checked the clock. 1:12 a.m. Still empty. 1:47 a.m. Nothing. 2:30. The room remained painfully quiet. Tyler reached for his phone. He opened Katsuki’s contact. His thumb hovered over the keyboard.
“I’m sorry.”
Delete.
“Can we talk?”
Delete.
“I miss you.”
He stared at those three words. They felt too small. Too late. He locked his phone without sending anything. What apology could erase weeks of hurt? What explanation could make Katsuki believe him now? For the first time in his life, Tyler couldn’t charm his way out of a problem. He couldn’t flirt his way through it. He couldn’t joke until everyone laughed again. Because this wasn’t about saying the right thing. It was about proving that Katsuki had never been “just another person.” And Tyler realized, with a sinking feeling in his chest, that he had no idea how to prove it. Not yet. But if there was even the smallest chance Katsuki would let him try… He knew one thing. For once in his life, he was going to have to earn someone’s trust instead of assuming it would always be there.
Morning came too fast. Tyler didn’t sleep. He sat through the night with the same three words stuck in his head like a bruise he couldn’t stop pressing on. I miss you. By sunrise, he hated how weak it sounded. Not because it wasn’t true. Because it was the first thing he’d been completely honest about in days. Katsuki didn’t come back. Not that night. Not the next morning. Not even by afternoon. Tyler checked the time more than he checked his phone. Each hour that passed felt louder than the last. The dorm didn’t feel like a shared space anymore. It just felt… empty. Like something important had been quietly removed and no one had bothered to tell him. By the third day, Tyler started noticing things he’d never paid attention to before. Katsuki always left his shoes neatly lined by the door. His notebooks were always stacked in a specific order. He never left dishes in the sink more than a few hours. The room was still technically clean. But it felt wrong. Too organized. Too silent. Too not him.
Tyler sat on Katsuki’s bed without thinking. He did it often lately. Like his body kept expecting Katsuki to walk in any second and yell at him for it. He ran a hand over the blanket. Still smelled faintly like laundry detergent and pencil graphite. Katsuki had always smelled like studying too long and late nights.
Tyler exhaled slowly. “…What am I doing,” he muttered.
The question didn’t have an answer he liked.
That evening, Kirishima found him again. Tyler was sitting on the steps outside the dorm, elbows on his knees, phone face-down beside him.
“You’re still doing this?” Kirishima asked.
Tyler didn’t look up. “…Doing what?”
“Waiting.”
“I’m not waiting.”
Kirishima gave him a look.
Tyler sighed. “…He’s just not here.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Tyler finally looked at him.
Kirishima sat down beside him. “You’ve been checking your phone every five minutes for three days.” Tyler said nothing. “You’ve stopped going out.” Still nothing. “You haven’t even flirted with anyone since the party.”
That one made Tyler flinch. “…So?”
“So,” Kirishima said gently, “you’re not acting like yourself.”
Tyler let out a short, humorless laugh. “What, I’m supposed to just—what? Be fine?”
“No.” Kirishima shook his head. “I think you’re supposed to figure out why you’re not fine.”
Tyler leaned back against the steps. For a long time, he didn’t speak. Then— “…He told me I never made him feel special.” Kirishima stayed quiet. Tyler swallowed. “And I didn’t even know he felt that way until he was already walking away.” His voice dropped. “That’s the part I can’t stop thinking about.” Kirishima glanced at him. Tyler stared at his hands. “…I don’t know how I missed it.”
“You didn’t miss it,” Kirishima said carefully. Tyler looked up. “You just didn’t realize it mattered.” That hit harder than anything else.
Later that night, Tyler went back to the room alone. He didn’t turn on the light right away. Just stood in the doorway, letting the darkness settle around him. Katsuki’s side of the room was still untouched. Still perfect. Still absent. Tyler walked over and sat at Katsuki’s desk instead this time. He opened the notebook that had been left behind. Music notes filled the page in tight, precise handwriting. Tyler didn’t understand any of it. But he recognized the care behind it. The discipline. The focus. The same focus Katsuki had always given everything. Except him.
Tyler shut it gently. “…You idiot,” he whispered, not sure if he meant himself or Katsuki.
Across campus, Katsuki sat alone on a bench outside the practice hall, hoodie pulled tight against the wind. His phone buzzed again. He didn’t look at it. Not because he didn’t want to. Because if he did… He might go back. And he couldn’t afford that mistake again. He pressed his forehead into his hands.
“I meant it,” he whispered to no one. “I really meant it.” Then quieter— “…Why wasn’t I enough for you to notice?” The wind didn’t answer. Neither did Tyler. Not yet.
***
Tyler stopped going to parties. At first, it felt like a choice. Then it started feeling like a habit he couldn’t break. People still invited him. They still texted. Still expected him to show up, laugh, flirt, be Tyler. He just… didn’t go. Instead, he stayed in the dorm. In the quiet. In the space Katsuki used to fill without trying.
On the fifth night, Tyler sat on the floor with his back against Katsuki’s bed. The room lights were off. His phone screen was the only glow. He had Katsuki’s name open again. Still unsent messages stacked up like evidence:
“I didn’t know.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Please come back.”
He deleted them one by one. Not because they weren’t true. Because they didn’t change anything.
The realization had started small. Too small to notice at first. Katsuki wasn’t just someone he liked being around. He was the only person who didn’t feel like he had to perform for. No laughing on cue. No flirting for attention. No version of Tyler that was slightly exaggerated just to be liked more. With Katsuki, he just… existed. And now that Katsuki was gone, Tyler didn’t know what version of himself was supposed to show up anymore.
Across campus, Katsuki was pretending he was fine. He was good at it. Too good. He still went to class. Still practiced. Still talked to people when he had to. But everything felt delayed. Like his life was happening one room over and he was only hearing it through the wall.
One afternoon, Emi found him after rehearsal. “You’ve been weird lately,” she said bluntly.
Katsuki didn’t look up from his instrument case. “I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.” That made him pause. Emi leaned against the wall beside him. “Is it the roommate guy?”
Katsuki’s grip tightened slightly. “…No.”
“That’s a lie.”
“It’s not your business.”
She sighed. “Okay. Then I’ll say it differently.” A beat. “You look like someone who’s trying really hard not to care about something they already care about too much.” Katsuki finally looked at her. She wasn’t smiling anymore. Just watching him. Carefully. That alone made his chest feel tight.
“…It doesn’t matter,” he said quietly.
“It did to you,” she corrected.
Silence. Katsuki looked away first.
That night, Tyler found something he hadn’t expected. Katsuki’s hoodie. It had been left on the back of the chair. He picked it up without thinking. Paused. Held it there for a moment longer than he should’ve. Then slowly pulled it on. It was too small in the shoulders. Smelled faintly like detergent and something familiar he couldn’t name without his chest tightening. Tyler stared at himself in the dark reflection of the window.
He looked ridiculous. “…This is pathetic,” he muttered. But he didn’t take it off.
Later that night, Kirishima came over again. He didn’t even bother knocking. “You’re still doing this?”
Tyler didn’t look up from where he was sitting on Katsuki’s bed again. “I’m not doing anything.”
Kirishima raised an eyebrow. “You’re wearing his hoodie.”
Tyler froze slightly. “…He left it.”
“That’s not what I asked.” Silence. Kirishima sat down in the desk chair. “Tyler.”
“What.”
“Do you know why he left?”
Tyler’s jaw tightened. “He said I don’t care.”
Kirishima shook his head. “That’s not what I asked either.” Tyler finally looked at him. Kirishima leaned forward slightly. “Do you know what he thought he was to you?” That question landed differently. Heavier.
Tyler swallowed. “…He thought we were—” He stopped. Because suddenly, anything he said sounded wrong. Friend? Roommate? Something casual? None of it felt accurate anymore. Kirishima didn’t push. Just waited. Tyler looked down at Katsuki’s hoodie in his hands. “I don’t think I ever gave it a name,” he admitted quietly.
Kirishima nodded once. “That’s the problem.”
The silence after that wasn’t comfortable. It was the kind that forces you to think. To sit with things you’ve avoided naming for too long. Tyler didn’t speak for a while. Then— “…I didn’t know I could lose him.”
Kirishima sighed softly. “You didn’t think you would.”
Tyler gave a humorless laugh. “No.” A pause. “…I don’t like this,” he admitted.
“What part?”
“All of it.”
Kirishima nodded like that made sense. “That’s usually how it starts.”
Later, after Kirishima left, Tyler stayed sitting there in the dark. He didn’t move. Didn’t check his phone. Didn’t try to distract himself. He just sat in Katsuki’s space and finally admitted something he’d been avoiding since the beginning. Not out loud. But clearly enough that it scared him. He didn’t just miss Katsuki. He wasn’t just confused. He wasn’t just guilty. He was in love with someone who had already decided he wasn’t worth waiting for anymore. And for the first time since this whole thing started— Tyler didn’t know how to fix what he’d broken. Only that ignoring it wasn’t working anymore.
The next morning, Tyler woke up still wearing Katsuki’s hoodie. He didn’t remember falling asleep. Just that at some point in the night, exhaustion had finally pulled him under where guilt couldn’t keep him awake anymore. His neck hurt from sleeping wrong on the floor. His phone was still face-down beside him. No messages. No missed calls. Nothing. That should’ve felt normal by now. It didn’t.
He sat there for a long time before moving. The room was too quiet again. Even the usual sounds—the shuffle of Katsuki getting ready, the soft tap of pencils against paper, the occasional annoyed sigh—were gone. Tyler realized something uncomfortable. He had started measuring time by Katsuki’s presence. And now that Katsuki wasn’t there… Time didn’t feel like it was passing correctly.
By noon, Tyler finally left the dorm. Not because he had somewhere to go. Because staying there felt worse. He ended up walking across campus without direction, hands shoved into Katsuki’s hoodie pocket like he could still find something useful in it. He passed the student union. The cafeteria. The practice rooms. Every place that used to have Katsuki in it. Every place that now didn’t.
He found himself stopping outside the music building. He didn’t go in. Just stood there. Watching people come and go. Laughing. Talking. Living. Tyler realized he hadn’t heard Katsuki laugh in weeks. That thought hit harder than it should’ve.
Inside the building, Katsuki was packing up early. Emi stood beside him, arms crossed. “You’re leaving again?” she asked.
“I’m done for today.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Katsuki didn’t look up. “I said I’m done.”
Emi studied him for a moment. Then softly— “You’re running.” That made him pause. Not enough to deny it. Just enough that she knew she was right.
Katsuki closed his case carefully. “…I’m not good at this,” he admitted, quieter than usual.
Emi tilted her head slightly. “At what?”
His jaw tightened. “People.” A beat. Then— “…Him.”
Outside, Tyler was still standing in the same spot. He finally saw Katsuki through the glass doors. For a second, relief flashed through him. Then he saw Emi beside him. And the way Katsuki wasn’t smiling. Not really. Just… existing. And Tyler felt that same twist in his chest again. Except this time, it wasn’t jealousy. It was something worse. Recognition. That he wasn’t the only one hurting in this story.
Katsuki stepped outside a few minutes later. He stopped when he saw Tyler. Neither of them spoke immediately. The space between them felt too familiar now. Too heavy.
Tyler swallowed. “…Hey.”
Katsuki hesitated. “…Hey.”
Silence.
Tyler shifted slightly. “I—” He stopped. Because suddenly every sentence he’d rehearsed felt wrong.
I’m sorry wasn’t enough.
I didn’t know wasn’t enough.
Even I miss you felt like it belonged to a version of this story where it still mattered.
Katsuki looked at him for a long moment. Then— “You shouldn’t be here.”
Tyler blinked. “…What?”
Katsuki’s voice stayed even. “You always come when it’s already too late to change anything.”
That landed like a punch. Tyler flinched slightly. “I didn’t know it was too late.”
Katsuki let out a quiet laugh. “Yeah.” It wasn’t mean. That somehow made it worse.
Tyler took a step forward. “Can we talk?”
Katsuki shook his head immediately. “No.”
“Katsu—”
“You don’t get to call me that right now.”
Tyler froze. The nickname had never felt wrong before. Now it did. “…Okay.”
Silence stretched again. Tyler’s hands curled into fists inside Katsuki’s hoodie pocket. “I’m trying,” he said quietly.
Katsuki finally looked at him fully. That made Tyler’s chest tighten again. Because Katsuki didn’t look angry. He looked tired. “…I know,” Katsuki said. And that was it. No forgiveness. No relief. Just acknowledgment. Like Tyler trying wasn’t the same as Tyler fixing anything.
Katsuki shifted his bag higher on his shoulder. “I’m not mad at you,” he added after a moment.
Tyler frowned. “…Then what is this?”
Katsuki hesitated. Then— “I just stopped waiting for you to notice.”
That sentence stayed in the air long after he turned away. Tyler didn’t stop him this time. Not because he didn’t want to. Because for the first time, he understood something clearly: If he chased Katsuki now, it wouldn’t be about stopping him from leaving. It would be about proving he should’ve mattered before it came to this. And Tyler had no idea how to do that yet. Only if he didn’t figure it out soon… Katsuki wasn’t going to be standing there waiting anymore.
Tyler didn’t move right away. He just stood there outside the music building, watching the spot where Katsuki had disappeared. People passed him on both sides—laughing, talking, living like nothing had shifted. But Tyler felt like something had. Like the ground under him had quietly tilted and everyone else had adjusted except him.
He didn’t go back to the dorm. He couldn’t. Not yet. Instead, he sat on the steps outside the student union, elbows on his knees, Katsuki’s hoodie pulled tighter around him even though it wasn’t cold. It should’ve felt ridiculous. It didn’t. It felt like the closest thing to Katsuki he had left.
“You’re actually sitting still.” Tyler looked up. Kirishima dropped down beside him like he belonged there.
“I didn’t call you,” Tyler muttered.
“I know,” Kirishima said. “That’s why I came.”
Tyler let out a breath through his nose. “…I saw him.”
Kirishima didn’t pretend not to understand. “Yeah?”
Tyler stared at the ground. “He told me I come too late.”
Silence. Kirishima nodded slowly. “That sounds like Katsuki.”
Tyler frowned. “That’s not helpful.”
“It’s honest.”
Tyler rubbed a hand over his face. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with that.”
Kirishima leaned back on his hands. “You’re not supposed to fix it in one conversation.”
Tyler let out a short, humorless laugh. “He won’t even have one conversation with me.”
“That’s part of it.” Tyler looked over. Kirishima shrugged. “You didn’t lose him in one moment, man. You just noticed it in one.” That landed heavy. Too heavy.
Tyler looked back down. “…I didn’t think it mattered this much.”
Kirishima glanced at him. “That’s the problem.”
Tyler swallowed. For once, he didn’t argue.
A few feet away, a couple walked past laughing. Tyler watched them without really seeing them. Then quietly— “…He thinks I never saw him.” Kirishima tilted his head. Tyler’s voice dropped. “But I did.” A pause. “I saw him all the time.” He frowned slightly, trying to organize something that felt too big for language. “I just didn’t… connect it.” Kirishima stayed quiet. Tyler’s fingers tightened in the fabric of the hoodie. “When he laughed,” he said slowly, “I liked it.” A beat. “When he stopped talking to me… I hated it.” Another pause. “When he was around other people… it bothered me.” He exhaled sharply. “But I kept telling myself it was nothing.”
Kirishima nodded once. “Because that version of you made it easier.”
Tyler looked up. “…What version?”
Kirishima didn’t hesitate. “The one where you don’t have to risk anything.” That stung.
Tyler leaned forward again, resting his forehead in his hand. “I didn’t mean to hurt him.”
“I know.”
“But I still did.”
Kirishima didn’t disagree. That silence said enough.
Tyler’s voice went quieter. “I don’t think I know how to be the person he thought I was.”
Kirishima studied him. “…Good.”
Tyler looked up sharply. “What?”
“Because that version doesn’t work.” Tyler frowned. Kirishima continued. “If you try to go back and act like you suddenly understood everything all along, he’s not going to believe you.”
Tyler looked down again. “…So what then?”
Kirishima shrugged slightly. “You start from where you actually are.”
Tyler scoffed lightly. “And where’s that?”
Kirishima didn’t smile. “Somewhere after realizing you don’t want to lose him.” That word again. Lose. Tyler hated how final it sounded.
***
That night, Tyler didn’t go out. Didn’t answer texts. Didn’t pretend to be fine. He sat at Katsuki’s desk again, but this time he didn’t open anything. Just stared at the surface. At the way everything was still organized. Still Katsuki. Except Katsuki wasn’t there. And Tyler finally understood something he should’ve understood weeks ago: Katsuki hadn’t been distancing himself because he stopped caring. He’d been distancing himself because he cared too much and ran out of places to put it safely.
Tyler stood abruptly. Grabbed his phone. Unlocked it. Scrolled past old messages. Stopped at Katsuki’s name. His thumb hovered. Then— He didn’t type an apology. Not yet. Instead, he opened notes. And wrote one line.
“I need to do this right, or I’m going to lose him for real.”
He stared at it for a long time.
Then added:
“And I think I already almost did.”
He didn’t send it. He just sat with it. Because for the first time, Tyler wasn’t trying to fix Katsuki’s feelings. He was finally starting to understand he had to earn the right to be in them again at all.
***
Tyler didn’t sleep again that night. But this time, it wasn’t just guilt keeping him awake. It was awareness. The kind that doesn’t let you unsee things once they’ve clicked into place. Katsuki hadn’t been “hard to read.” He hadn’t been “quiet lately.” He hadn’t been “busy.” He had been leaving. Slowly. Carefully. Like someone stepping out of a room they still wanted to stay in.
***
At 3:12 a.m., Tyler got up. He didn’t really think about it. He just put on shoes, grabbed his keys, and left the dorm. The hallway lights buzzed softly overhead. Every step felt louder than it should’ve.
He ended up outside the music building again. Dark. Locked. Empty. Of course it was empty. Tyler leaned against the wall and slid down until he was sitting on the concrete. Katsuki wasn’t there. He knew that. But it was the only place that still felt like it made sense to come.
“I didn’t notice,” Tyler muttered into the night. A pause. Then quieter— “That’s not true.” He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I noticed.” He swallowed. “I just didn’t… stop.” The words tasted worse out loud. Because they were honest.
Somewhere behind him, campus was asleep. In dorm rooms, people were laughing in dreams. Studying in dreams. Kissing in dreams. Living versions of their lives that didn’t hurt. Tyler envied all of it.
The next morning, Katsuki was at practice early. Too early. He liked it that way now. Less chance of running into people. Less chance of— He stopped that thought before it finished. Focused instead on his instrument. On the rhythm. On anything that wasn’t the dorm room. Anything that wasn’t Tyler.
“Katsuki.” He froze anyway. Emi stood a few feet away, holding her case. “You’ve been avoiding me too,” she said.
“I haven’t.”
She raised an eyebrow. “…Okay.” Silence. Then softer— “He hurt you.”
Katsuki tightened his grip on the strap of his case. “It’s not like that.”
Emi didn’t push immediately. Just stepped closer. “You don’t look angry,” she said. “You look like you’re trying not to feel anything at all.”
That made his jaw clench. “I’m fine.”
“No,” she said gently, “you’re not.”
Katsuki finally looked at her. And for a second, something cracked in his expression. Just barely. “I thought it was real,” he admitted. Emi didn’t interrupt. Katsuki’s voice dropped. “I thought… if someone kept choosing to be around you, it meant something.” A pause. Then bitterly— “Turns out I was just easy to be around.”
Emi shook her head immediately. “That’s not what this is.”
Katsuki gave a small, humorless laugh. “It feels like it.”
That afternoon, Tyler finally saw him again. Not up close. From across campus. Katsuki was walking with Emi and two other students, laughing at something someone said. It wasn’t the same laugh as before. It was smaller. Careful. But it was still there. And Tyler felt something twist in his chest watching it. Not relief. Not jealousy. Something more uncomfortable. Recognition of how much effort it probably took to get there again. Tyler started walking without thinking. Then stopped himself halfway across the quad. Because for once, he didn’t want to interrupt Katsuki’s life just to soothe his own uncertainty. That realization sat heavy. Instead, he turned around and went back. Sat on the edge of a fountain. Pulled out his phone. Opened Katsuki’s contact. Still no profile picture change. Still the same name. Still the same silence. Tyler typed:
“I’m not trying to take anything from you.”
Stopped. Deleted it. Typed again:
“I know I hurt you.”
Stopped. Deleted. He stared at the blank screen for a long time. Then finally—
“I’m not asking you to come back yet.”
He paused. Then added:
“I just don’t want to pretend I don’t care anymore.”
He read it over. It wasn’t enough. But it was the first thing he’d written that didn’t try to fix the past. Just acknowledged it. His thumb hovered over send. He didn’t press it. Not yet. Because for the first time, Tyler understood something important: If he reached out too fast, it wouldn’t be for Katsuki. It would be for himself. And if he was going to change anything at all… It had to stop being about what he could get back. And start being about what he was finally willing to lose if he kept doing nothing.
Tyler didn’t send the message. He closed the phone instead. Sat there with it resting loosely in his hand like it weighed more than it should. For the first time, not acting felt harder than acting.
Across campus, Katsuki was trying to ignore the way his phone kept buzzing in his bag. He already knew who it was. He didn’t need to look. That was the worst part. The certainty. Because if it had been anyone else, he would’ve checked. Answered. Moved on. But Tyler’s name felt different now. Not because it mattered less. Because it mattered too much. And Katsuki didn’t trust himself with that anymore.
By evening, Tyler made a decision. Not dramatic. Not loud. Just small. He showed up at Katsuki’s usual practice room. And waited outside. That was it. No message. No interruption. No forcing the door open like he used to. Just standing there. Like a question that didn’t demand an answer.
Katsuki saw him immediately. Of course he did. Tyler was impossible to miss, even when he was trying to be still. Katsuki stopped walking the second he reached the hallway. Tyler saw him too. Neither of them moved at first. The space between them felt familiar in a way that made Katsuki’s chest tighten. Because this was how it used to feel. Not long ago. When things were still… uncertain in a different way.
Tyler lifted a hand slightly. Not a wave. Not really. Just acknowledgment. Katsuki didn’t respond. But he didn’t leave either. That alone made Tyler’s chest loosen a fraction.
“I’m not here to talk,” Tyler said quietly.
Katsuki frowned slightly. “…Then why are you here?”
Tyler hesitated. Then answered honestly. “Because I didn’t want to keep pretending I don’t know where you are.” That landed heavier than it should’ve. Katsuki looked away first.
Silence stretched. Neither of them filled it. Which was new. They used to fill silence easily—jokes, arguments, sarcasm, distractions. Now it just… sat there. Unavoidable.
Katsuki finally spoke. “You shouldn’t do this.”
Tyler blinked. “Do what?”
“Show up like nothing changed.”
Tyler shook his head immediately. “I’m not.”
Katsuki gave a short, humorless laugh. “It feels like it.”
That made Tyler pause. Because that was the part he was afraid of. That no matter how much he changed, Katsuki would still see him as the version that came too late.
“I don’t know how to fix what I did,” Tyler admitted.
Katsuki looked at him then. Really looked. Tyler didn’t flinch. Didn’t joke. Didn’t deflect. Just stood there. Unarmored. That was new.
Katsuki’s voice was quieter when he spoke again. “…I didn’t need you to fix it.”
Tyler frowned slightly. “Then what did you need?”
A pause. Katsuki hesitated like the answer cost something. Then— “For you to notice when it mattered.” Silence hit again. Harder this time.
Tyler swallowed. “I did notice.” Katsuki’s expression barely changed. But something in his eyes did. Tyler continued, carefully. “I just didn’t understand what I was seeing.” A beat. “And that’s on me.” That part was harder to say.
Katsuki shifted his weight. “…Why now?”
Tyler didn’t pretend not to understand. “Because I finally stopped assuming you’d always be there.” That made Katsuki go still. Tyler exhaled slowly. “And I don’t like what that feels like.”
For the first time, Katsuki didn’t immediately shut down the conversation. He just stood there. Thinking. Measuring. Trying to decide if distance still felt safer than hearing more.
“You still don’t get it,” Katsuki said quietly.
Tyler nodded once. “I know.” A pause. “But I’m trying.”
Katsuki looked at him again. Longer this time. Less guarded. More tired. “…Trying doesn’t undo anything.”
“I know that too.”
Silence.
From inside the practice room, someone called Katsuki’s name. Reality pulling him back. Katsuki didn’t move right away. Tyler stepped back slightly instead. Not leaving. Just making space.
Before Katsuki turned away, he said one last thing. Not angry. Not soft. Just honest. “…You’re always better at realizing things after they’re already gone.”
Tyler flinched. Because he couldn’t argue with that.
Katsuki turned and walked into the room. Door closing behind him. Not slammed. Just shut. Controlled. Final in a way that didn’t feel like an ending—but definitely didn’t feel like a beginning either.
Tyler stayed where he was for a long time. Then quietly— “I’m not done,” he said to the empty hallway. Not a promise. Not a demand. Just a fact he was finally willing to live with. Because for the first time, Tyler understood the real problem wasn’t getting Katsuki back. It was becoming someone Katsuki would ever believe again.
Tyler didn’t move right away after Katsuki disappeared into the practice room.
He stayed in the hallway like the air itself had shifted and he was still adjusting to it.
Inside, muffled sounds of chairs scraping and instrument cases opening continued like nothing important had just happened.
That part stung more than anything.
Life kept going.
Even when his didn’t feel like it was.
He finally turned away. Not because he wanted to. Because standing there didn’t change anything anymore. That realization followed him all the way back to the dorm. The room hit him differently this time. Not empty. Not quiet. Just… unchanged. Like it had no idea anything inside it had started to fall apart. Tyler stood in the doorway for a long moment before stepping in. His eyes went straight to Katsuki’s side of the room. Neat. Controlled. Untouched in a way that felt deliberate now. Like Katsuki had erased himself from the space piece by piece. Tyler sat on his bed. Didn’t turn on the light. Didn’t change. Just stayed there in the dim glow coming through the blinds. For a while, he thought about going back. About saying something else. Anything else. But every version of that conversation ended the same way in his head: Katsuki looking at him like he was too late again. And Tyler realized something uncomfortable. He didn’t know how to talk to Katsuki without trying to fix him anymore. And worse— He didn’t know how to stop.
A knock came at the door later. Tyler didn’t answer at first. The knock came again. “Katsuki?” Tyler stood immediately. Too fast. Hope hitting before logic could stop it. He opened the door. It wasn’t Katsuki. Kirishima stood there instead. Tyler’s shoulders dropped slightly. “…Hey.”
Kirishima took one look at him and sighed. “You look worse.”
“Thanks.”
“That wasn’t an insult.”
Tyler stepped aside.
Kirishima walked in without hesitation, scanning the room like he was reading it. “So,” he said finally. “You talked to him.”
Tyler shut the door. “…Yeah.”
“And?”
Tyler leaned back against his desk. “And I think I made it worse.”
Kirishima didn’t look surprised. “That’s usually how it starts.”
Tyler let out a short breath. “I didn’t say anything right.”
“You said something honest?”
Tyler hesitated. “…I tried.”
Kirishima nodded slowly. “That’s new.”
Tyler shot him a look. “Not helpful.”
“It is,” Kirishima said calmly. “You’re not talking your way out of this one.”
Tyler frowned. “I wasn’t trying to talk my way out.”
Kirishima raised an eyebrow. Tyler stopped. Because that wasn’t entirely true. He had been trying to repair the damage quickly. To say the right thing and make Katsuki understand immediately. Fix it. Reset it. Go back.
Kirishima sat on Katsuki’s bed again, like he belonged there. “That’s your problem,” he said.
Tyler looked up. “What is?”
“You still think this is something you can fix in one conversation.” Tyler opened his mouth. Closed it. Kirishima continued. “He didn’t just misunderstand you, man.”
Tyler’s jaw tightened. “I know.”
“No,” Kirishima said more firmly. “You don’t yet.” Silence.
Tyler rubbed a hand over his face. “…Then what am I supposed to do?”
Kirishima leaned forward slightly. “Stop trying to be forgiven.” Tyler looked at him. That didn’t make sense. Kirishima didn’t soften it. “Start being consistent instead.”
Tyler frowned. “That sounds the same.”
“It isn’t.” A pause. Kirishima gestured slightly toward the room. “You’ve been showing up now because you’re panicking.” Tyler didn’t deny it. Kirishima nodded like that confirmed his point. “Now show up when it stops feeling urgent.” That landed differently. Uncomfortable. Because Tyler realized he didn’t know if he could do that. If the panic went away… Would he still go after Katsuki? Or would he slip back into who he used to be?
Kirishima stood. “I’m not saying you’ve already lost him,” he said. Tyler looked up quickly. “But I am saying,” Kirishima continued, “he’s not going to believe words anymore.”
Tyler nodded slowly. “…So what does he believe?”
Kirishima gave him a look that was almost sympathetic. “Time.”
After Kirishima left, the room felt even quieter. Tyler stayed standing in the same spot for a long time. Then he walked over to Katsuki’s desk again. Not to open anything. Just to look. A small sticky note sat near the edge. Half-hidden. Tyler hadn’t noticed it before. He picked it up. Katsuki’s handwriting. Neat. Precise. Almost emotionless. It just said:
don’t fall behind.
Tyler stared at it. For a long moment. Then quietly— “I already did,” he muttered.
Across campus, Katsuki sat alone on a bench again. But this time, he wasn’t replaying the argument. He was replaying something else. Tyler’s face. Not the version from before. The one in the hallway. Uncertain. Unpolished. Trying. And Katsuki hated how dangerous that looked. Because trying was exactly what he used to hope for. And hope was the part that hurt the most when it didn’t work out. His phone buzzed once. He didn’t check it. But his hand lingered near it longer than he wanted to admit. And for the first time in days— He didn’t feel like he was only moving away from Tyler. He felt like Tyler might actually be moving too. Slowly. Late. But real.
Tyler kept the sticky note in his pocket. He didn’t really know why. It wasn’t comforting. It wasn’t encouraging. It just… existed. Like proof that Katsuki had once assumed Tyler would still be there to read it.
***
The next morning, Tyler did something different. He went to class. Then he went to the practice building. Not to find Katsuki. Not directly. Just… to be there. He sat outside the hallway again, this time with a notebook open in front of him. He didn’t write anything meaningful. Just words. Fragments.
Things like:
don’t interrupt
don’t rush
don’t fix
stay
He underlined the last one twice.
Inside the room, Katsuki noticed him anyway. He always did. Even when Tyler wasn’t trying to be seen. Even when he was trying not to be noticed at all. Katsuki’s grip tightened slightly on his case.
Emi glanced at him. “You okay?”
“…Yeah.”
She didn’t believe him. But she didn’t push.
When Katsuki left practice, Tyler was still there. Same spot. Same posture. Just… present. Katsuki slowed down without meaning to. Tyler looked up immediately. Not surprised. Just aware. Like he’d been waiting without expecting anything.
Katsuki stopped a few feet away. “…You’re here again.”
Tyler nodded. “Yeah.”
A pause.
Katsuki adjusted his bag on his shoulder. “You don’t have to follow me around.”
Tyler shook his head slightly. “I’m not following you.” Katsuki gave him a look. Tyler exhaled. “…I’m just showing up where you are.”
That made Katsuki pause. Because it was different. Subtle. But different. Silence stretched. Not the same kind as before. Less sharp. More uncertain.
Finally, Katsuki spoke. “What do you want from this?”
Tyler didn’t answer immediately. Not because he didn’t know. Because he didn’t trust the first answer that came to mind anymore. After a moment— “I don’t want to take anything from you.”
Katsuki frowned slightly. “That’s not an answer.”
“I know.” Tyler looked down briefly, then back up. “I think I just… don’t want to be someone you have to erase to feel okay anymore.” That landed quietly. But deeply.
Katsuki’s expression shifted—just slightly. Not softer. Not harder. Just more complicated. “…You already were,” he said.
Tyler flinched. Then nodded once. “I know.” A beat. “But I don’t want to stay that version.”
That was the first time Katsuki didn’t immediately turn away. He stood there, weighing something. Tyler didn’t fill the silence. Didn’t rush it. Didn’t joke. Just stayed.
After a moment, Katsuki said quietly, “You’re different.”
Tyler blinked. “…Good different or bad different?”
Katsuki looked away slightly. “I don’t know yet.”
That was honest. Not cruel. Just uncertain.
Tyler nodded like that was enough for now. “…That’s fair.”
Katsuki shifted his grip on his bag again. Then— “I have rehearsal later.”
Tyler stepped aside immediately. Not blocking him. Not extending the moment. Just making space. “Okay.”
Katsuki walked past him. This time, Tyler didn’t chase. Didn’t call after him. Didn’t try to fill the space with words. He just watched him go. And for the first time… That felt like progress instead of loss. Later that night, Katsuki sat in his usual practice room alone longer than he needed to. He’d finished early. He could’ve left. But he didn’t. Because when he closed his eyes, he could still picture Tyler sitting outside the hallway. Not demanding. Not interrupting. Just there. And Katsuki hated how unfamiliar that version of Tyler felt. Because it didn’t match the story he’d already started trying to accept. The story where he didn’t matter enough to be chosen.
His phone buzzed. He almost ignored it. Then hesitated. Then finally looked. A message from Tyler. It was short. No apology. No pressure. Just:
“I’m still here. Not going anywhere you don’t want me.”
Katsuki stared at it. Longer than he meant to. Then locked his phone again. Not because he didn’t care. Because for the first time… He didn’t know if believing it would hurt more than not believing it. And that was the most dangerous part of all.
***
Katsuki didn’t reply. Not that night. Not the next morning either. But he didn’t delete the message. That was new. And it annoyed him more than he wanted to admit. Tyler noticed the silence immediately. He just didn’t react to it the way he would’ve before. No double texts. No follow-ups. No spiraling. Just… acceptance. Uncomfortable acceptance. Instead, he kept showing up. Same hallway. Same distance. Same quiet presence that didn’t demand anything back. He started doing something else too. He brought coffee. Not for Katsuki. Just… an extra one. Every time. He left it on the ledge outside the practice room and walked away before Katsuki came out. No note at first. Then, eventually, just:
“thought you might want this”
Then nothing else.
Katsuki noticed the routine. That was the problem. It stopped feeling like coincidence. Stopped feeling like guilt. Started feeling like choice.
***
One afternoon, Emi caught Katsuki staring at the cup. “You’re not going to drink it?” she asked.
Katsuki blinked. “…It’s probably cold.”
“Doesn’t answer my question.” He didn’t respond. Emi leaned against the wall. “That’s him, isn’t it?”
Katsuki’s fingers tightened around his case strap. “It’s just coffee.”
“Sure.” A pause. Then softer— “You’re scared of what it means if he’s actually trying, aren’t you?” That made Katsuki look at her sharply. Emi didn’t back down. Because she wasn’t wrong. And Katsuki hated that she wasn’t wrong.
***
That night, he finally picked up the cup. It was cold. Just like he said it would be. But he drank it anyway. Not because it was good. Because it was there. And because someone had left it there without asking for anything back.
***
The next day, Tyler showed up earlier than usual. Same spot. But this time, Katsuki stopped before entering the room. Tyler looked up immediately. No surprise. Just awareness again. Like this was becoming normal in a way neither of them had fully agreed to yet.
Katsuki hesitated. Then walked over. Tyler didn’t move. Didn’t invade space. Just stayed where he was. “…Why coffee?” Katsuki asked finally.
Tyler blinked. Then shrugged slightly. “I figured you probably skip breakfast sometimes.”
Katsuki frowned. “I don’t.”
Tyler nodded once. “Okay.”
Silence. No argument. No correction. Just… acceptance. That unsettled Katsuki more than it should’ve. Because the old Tyler would’ve joked. Or insisted. Or made it about himself somehow. This version didn’t. This version just listened.
“…You don’t have to do things like that,” Katsuki said quietly.
Tyler tilted his head slightly. “I know.” Another pause. “I want to.”
Katsuki looked at him. Really looked this time. Trying to find the angle. The motive. The expectation. Something familiar. But there wasn’t one. And that made it harder.
“You’re going to get tired of this,” Katsuki said.
Tyler didn’t hesitate. “Maybe.” A beat. “But not because of you.” That landed differently. Not warm. Not comforting. Just… steady.
Katsuki shifted slightly. “…You’re not asking me for anything.”
Tyler shook his head. “No.” A pause. Then, honest— “I think I used up my chances to ask for things right now.”
That made Katsuki go quiet. Because that was the first time Tyler had acknowledged the imbalance without trying to correct it immediately.
Katsuki stepped back slightly. “I have rehearsal.”
Tyler nodded. “Yeah.”
Katsuki hesitated again. Then added, quieter than before— “…Thanks for the coffee.”
Tyler blinked. Then gave a small nod. “Anytime.”
Katsuki walked away. But this time, something felt different in the space between them. Not healed. Not fixed. Not even close. But no longer purely avoidance either. Something was forming in the gap. Slow. Unstable. Real.
***
Later that night, Katsuki sat alone again. Phone in hand. Tyler’s message still there. Unread but not forgotten. And for the first time, Katsuki didn’t immediately feel like blocking him out of survival. He just felt tired. Conflicted. Human in a way he hadn’t allowed himself to be in days.
Across campus, Tyler sat on his bed, hoodie folded beside him instead of worn. He was learning something new too. That showing up didn’t guarantee anything. That consistency didn’t erase damage. That patience didn’t mean control. But still— He showed up again the next morning. Not because he expected forgiveness. But because for the first time… He understood Katsuki wasn’t waiting for promises anymore. He was watching actions that had to last longer than regret.
***
Tyler started changing in ways Katsuki didn’t notice all at once. It wasn’t sudden enough to be suspicious. It was too consistent for that.
The first thing Katsuki realized was that Tyler stopped performing. Not just around him. Everywhere. The loud laughter in groups softened. The constant flirting disappeared. Even the way he took up space in a room changed—less scattered, less chaotic, more… intentional. It was subtle. But Katsuki noticed everything now. He had to.
The second thing was timing. Tyler stopped showing up at Katsuki. He started showing up around Katsuki’s routine. Never interrupting. Never inserting himself. Just existing in the same orbit. Hallways. Benches. Outside practice rooms. Always a few steps away from being “together,” but never crossing it unless Katsuki made it possible.
And Katsuki… didn’t tell him to stop. That was the part that bothered him most.
One afternoon, Katsuki came out of rehearsal later than usual. It was raining. Not hard. Just enough to make the air heavy. He paused under the overhang, adjusting his bag. And there it was. Tyler. Across the walkway. Standing under the edge of another roof so he wasn’t fully in the rain. Holding two umbrellas. Katsuki stared at him. Tyler lifted one slightly. Not smiling. Not joking. Just offering. No words. No pressure. Just choice.
Katsuki didn’t move right away. He didn’t know why that annoyed him. Or maybe it wasn’t annoyance. Maybe it was the fact that Tyler was finally learning how to exist without pushing. And Katsuki didn’t know what to do with that version of him yet.
Eventually, Katsuki walked over. Tyler handed him the umbrella without comment. Their fingers didn’t linger. They barely touched. But Katsuki felt it anyway.
They walked in silence for a while. The kind that used to feel awkward. Now it just felt… steady. After a few minutes, Katsuki spoke.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
Tyler shrugged slightly. “I know.” A pause. “I saw the forecast.”
Katsuki glanced at him. That was it. No deeper meaning forced into it. No “I was thinking about you” or “I didn’t want you to get wet.” Just observation. Action. Then space.
Katsuki frowned slightly. “…You’re acting weird.”
Tyler nodded. “Yeah.”
That made Katsuki pause. He looked over again. Waiting for more. But Tyler didn’t elaborate. Just kept walking at the same pace. Letting silence sit comfortably for once.
Another day, it was food. Not dramatic. Not romantic. Just practical. Tyler started showing up at the cafeteria slightly earlier than Katsuki’s usual break. He didn’t sit with him unless Katsuki sat first. But every time Katsuki came in late, there was already something on the table: a second tray. or a drink Katsuki usually picked. Once, it was just extra napkins because Katsuki had a habit of forgetting them when he was stressed. Small things. Not guesses. Not assumptions. Observations.
Emi noticed it before Katsuki admitted it. “You know he’s trying really hard not to mess this up,” she said one day.
Katsuki didn’t respond immediately. They were packing up instruments. The room was half-empty. “He’s still the same person,” Katsuki said finally.
Emi looked at him. “Is he?” That question stuck. Because Katsuki didn’t have a clean answer.
The hardest moment came later that week. Katsuki had a bad rehearsal. Nothing dramatic. Just everything feeling slightly off. Timing. Breath. Focus. He left frustrated, jaw tight, shoulders tense. Tyler was there. Of course he was there. Sitting on the same bench outside like always. Katsuki almost walked past. Almost.
Tyler didn’t call him. Didn’t say his name. Didn’t reach for him. He just stood up. And handed Katsuki a bottle of water. Already opened. Cap loosened. Ready. That was it.
Katsuki hesitated. “…How did you know—”
“You forget to drink water when you’re frustrated,” Tyler said simply.
No judgment. No analysis. Just fact. That made Katsuki stop completely. Because it wasn’t random. It wasn’t guesswork. It was attention. The kind Katsuki used to think Tyler didn’t give him. But now… Now it was undeniable.
Katsuki took the bottle slowly. “…You’ve been watching me.”
Tyler didn’t deny it. “I’ve been paying attention,” he corrected. A beat. “Not the same thing.”
That distinction mattered. Katsuki didn’t know why yet. But it did.
Later that night, Katsuki found himself sitting outside the practice building longer than usual again. The water bottle was empty beside him. The umbrella was folded neatly against his bag. And Tyler was sitting a few feet away on the steps. Not closer. Not further. Just there.
Katsuki finally spoke into the quiet. “…Why are you doing this?”
Tyler didn’t answer immediately. He looked down at his hands. Then— “Because I think I spent too long thinking I could afford to lose people and still be okay.” Katsuki’s expression shifted slightly. Tyler continued. “And I don’t want to do that anymore.” A pause. Then quieter— “Especially not with you.”
That landed differently. Not as a confession. Not as a demand. As something simpler. Something heavier. A decision.
Katsuki didn’t respond. Not because he didn’t hear it. Because for the first time… He didn’t know if believing Tyler would stay hurt more than assuming he wouldn’t.
***
It happened on a night that didn’t feel important. That was the only reason it worked. No party. No confrontation. No audience. Just campus after dark, washed in quiet streetlights and tired buildings. Katsuki had stayed later than usual in the practice room again. Tyler was already there when he came out. Of course he was. But this time, Katsuki didn’t immediately walk past him. He stopped.
Tyler looked up, immediately attentive—but not pushy. “…Hey.”
Katsuki hesitated. Then, quieter than usual: “You don’t have to wait every time.”
Tyler nodded once. “I know.” A pause. He didn’t add anything else. That alone made Katsuki’s chest tighten. Because there was no argument anymore. No insistence. No clever response. Just space.
Katsuki shifted his bag. “I’m not mad at you,” he said suddenly.
Tyler blinked slightly. “…Okay.”
That wasn’t the reaction Katsuki expected. He frowned. “I just—” He stopped. Because he didn’t actually know how to finish that sentence anymore.
Tyler stood slowly. Not closing distance. Not forcing anything. Just… standing. “I know I messed up,” he said quietly. Katsuki looked at him sharply. Tyler didn’t flinch. “But I also know I can’t undo it by talking faster than you’re ready for.” Silence. That hit Katsuki harder than anything emotional or dramatic ever had. Because it meant Tyler wasn’t trying to win him back in pieces. He was actually listening.
Katsuki looked away first. “…You’re different,” he said again.
Tyler gave a small nod. “Yeah.” A beat. “I’m trying to be.” That word again. Trying. But this time it didn’t feel like avoidance. It felt like effort without expectation.
Katsuki exhaled slowly. Then, unexpectedly: “…Walk with me.”
Tyler froze for half a second. Just one. Then nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”
They started walking. No umbrella. No excuse. No plan. Just the path back toward the dorms. At first, neither of them spoke. The silence wasn’t tense anymore. It was uncertain. Careful. Like something fragile had been placed between them and neither of them wanted to drop it.
After a while, Katsuki spoke. “…You really didn’t notice?”
Tyler didn’t rush his answer. “I noticed you,” he said carefully. A pause. “I didn’t understand what I was seeing.” Katsuki frowned slightly. Tyler continued anyway. “But I understand it now.” Katsuki glanced at him. Tyler kept his eyes forward. “I understand that I made you feel like you were optional.”
That word made Katsuki’s steps slow slightly. Optional. He’d never said it like that before. But it fit in a way that was almost too accurate.
“…That’s not what I am,” Katsuki said quietly.
Tyler nodded immediately. “I know.” Another pause. Then— “I just didn’t act like it mattered.”
That honesty made Katsuki stop walking. Tyler stopped too. But didn’t turn toward him fully. Just waited.
Katsuki stared at him for a long moment. Then, something shifted. Not forgiveness. Not softness. Something closer to exhaustion finally tipping into honesty.
“…I don’t know what I am to you now,” Katsuki admitted.
Tyler finally turned slightly. “I know what you are to me now,” he said. Katsuki’s gaze sharpened slightly. Tyler didn’t smile. Didn’t romanticize it. Just said it plainly. “You’re the person I don’t want to lose again.”
That silence after was different. Heavier. But not sharp. Not painful in the same way. More like standing on the edge of something neither of them had stepped into yet.
Katsuki swallowed. “…That’s not the same as before.”
Tyler nodded. “I know.” A pause. “But it’s real.” That word landed. Real. Not assumed. Not casual. Not accidental. Real.
Katsuki looked down at the ground. Then quietly: “…Don’t mess it up again.”
Tyler let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “I won’t.” Katsuki immediately shot him a look. Tyler corrected himself. “I’ll try not to.”
That earned the smallest reaction from Katsuki. Not a smile. But something closer to it than anything in weeks.
They started walking again. Closer this time. Not physically. But emotionally. Like the distance between them had finally stopped expanding. And for the first time since everything fell apart— neither of them felt like they were standing on opposite sides of the story anymore.
The walk back to the dorm didn’t feel like an ending anymore. It felt like a beginning neither of them trusted yet. That was the difference. Katsuki stopped outside the building. Tyler slowed too. Neither moved immediately. The automatic version of this moment used to be simple—go inside, split off, pretend nothing happened. But now there was a pause where something else could exist. And neither of them knew what to do with it.
Katsuki spoke first. “…You’re still here.”
Tyler blinked. Then nodded once. “Yeah.” A beat. “As long as you’ll let me be.”
Katsuki didn’t answer right away. That should’ve scared Tyler. It didn’t. Because this silence didn’t feel like rejection. It felt like processing.
Finally, Katsuki stepped inside. Tyler followed—but slower. More careful. Like he was waiting for permission that didn’t come in words anymore.
The dorm room was exactly how they left it. Same arrangement. Same distance between beds. Same quiet tension in the air—but softer now, like something sharp had finally been set down. Katsuki dropped his bag near his desk. Tyler did the same. Neither of them spoke for a while.
Then Katsuki surprised him. “…Sit.”
Tyler froze slightly. “…Where?”
Katsuki glanced at the floor between their beds. Not his bed. Not Tyler’s. Between. Tyler hesitated. Then sat. Slowly. Like it might disappear if he moved wrong.
Katsuki stayed standing for a moment longer. Then, reluctantly, sat too—leaning against the edge of his bed instead of joining Tyler on the floor fully. Still not close. But no longer distant.
Silence stretched. Not empty. Just… unfamiliar.
Tyler broke it first. “I used to think I was good at people,” he admitted quietly. Katsuki glanced at him. Tyler stared at his hands. “I thought if I made things fun enough, easy enough… people would stick around.” A pause. “I didn’t realize I was just making myself easy to leave.” That made Katsuki still. Not visibly emotional. But attentive in a way he hadn’t been before. Tyler continued. “…You weren’t like that.” Katsuki’s eyes narrowed slightly. Tyler looked up now. “You didn’t stay because it was easy.” A beat. “You stayed because you meant it.”
Silence hit after that. Heavier. More honest.
Katsuki looked away first. “…I stopped meaning it when it hurt too much,” he said quietly. Tyler didn’t interrupt. Didn’t correct him. Just listened. Katsuki’s voice dropped a little. “I didn’t leave because I stopped caring.” A pause. “I left because I cared and you didn’t seem to notice.” That sentence didn’t come with anger anymore. Just truth. Raw, unpolished truth.
Tyler nodded slowly. “I know.” Katsuki looked at him sharply. Tyler held his gaze. “I know that now.” A beat. “And I’m not asking you to believe it fixed anything.” That mattered. Because it didn’t sound like a demand anymore. It sounded like responsibility.
Katsuki exhaled quietly. Then, after a long pause: “…What happens now?”
Tyler hesitated. This was the first real test. Not apology. Not explanation. Direction. He didn’t rush it. Didn’t try to make it sound perfect. “I don’t know everything,” he admitted. A pause. “But I know I don’t want this to stay like it was.” Katsuki watched him carefully. Tyler continued. “And I know I can’t ask you to trust me again just because I finally understood too late.” That earned a subtle reaction. Not softening. But recognition.
Katsuki shifted slightly. “…So what are you doing?”
Tyler answered honestly. “Staying where you can see me.” A pause. “Not chasing you. Not pulling you back. …Just being here long enough that you don’t have to wonder if I’ll disappear again.” That quieted the room. Because it wasn’t a promise of intensity. It was a promise of consistency.
Katsuki looked down. For a long time, he didn’t speak. Then— “…That’s annoying.”
Tyler blinked. “…Yeah?”
Katsuki glanced at him. “It makes it harder to ignore you.”
Tyler froze slightly. Then, carefully— “Is that what you want?”
Katsuki didn’t answer immediately. But he didn’t leave. Instead, he leaned his head back against the bed. “…I don’t know yet,” he admitted. A pause. Then quieter— “But I don’t hate it.” That wasn’t forgiveness. But it wasn’t distance either. It was something new. Something unstable. Something real enough to build on.
Tyler nodded once. “Okay.” He didn’t push. Didn’t smile too much. Didn’t overreact. Just accepted it.
A few minutes passed like that. Then Katsuki stood again. “…Sleep,” he muttered.
Tyler looked up. “You telling me what to do now?”
Katsuki paused. Then, almost reluctantly: “…Yes.”
Tyler let out a quiet laugh. “Yeah, alright.”
As Katsuki turned toward his bed, he hesitated for half a second. Then said, barely audible: “…Don’t leave.”
Tyler didn’t joke. Didn’t hesitate. Just answered— “I’m here.”
And this time, neither of them treated it like a temporary thing.
The word don’t leave didn’t get repeated. It didn’t need to. It stayed in the room anyway.
Tyler lay awake long after Katsuki turned off his lamp. The room was dark again, but it didn’t feel the same as before. It wasn’t empty. It was shared silence now. There was a difference he couldn’t quite explain yet.
Across the room, Katsuki wasn’t asleep either. He usually would’ve been by now. Sleep was easier when everything was compartmentalized. When feelings had clear boundaries. When Tyler was just “dormmate,” “problem,” or “distraction.” Now none of those labels fit cleanly anymore. And that was worse.
Tyler shifted slightly. Not enough to break the silence. Just enough to exist differently in it. “…Katsu.”
A pause. No response immediately. Then— “…What.” Katsuki didn’t sound annoyed. Just awake.
Tyler hesitated. Then— “Are you mad I’m still here?”
Silence stretched. Long enough that Tyler almost regretted asking.
“…No,” Katsuki said finally.
That surprised Tyler. He turned his head slightly toward him, even though he couldn’t see him clearly. “…No?”
Katsuki exhaled softly. “I used to be.” A pause. “But not right now.”
That honesty landed heavier than any argument would’ve.
Tyler stared at the ceiling. “…What changed?”
Katsuki didn’t answer immediately. That was normal now. But this silence felt different. More thoughtful than defensive. Finally— “You stopped talking at me like I was already supposed to forgive you,” Katsuki said. Tyler went still. Katsuki continued quietly. “And started acting like you didn’t expect anything back.” A pause. “That’s… different.”
Tyler swallowed. “I didn’t know how else to do it,” he admitted.
Katsuki shifted slightly in bed. “…Good.”
That made Tyler blink. “…Good?”
Katsuki’s voice was quieter now. “If you had tried to fix it fast again, I would’ve stopped listening.” That was the first time Katsuki had said something like that out loud. Not rejection. Not avoidance. A boundary. A real one.
Tyler nodded even though Katsuki couldn’t see it. “Okay.” A beat. Then softer— “I don’t want to lose you again just because I get impatient.” That sentence hung there longer than the others.
Katsuki didn’t respond right away. When he did, it wasn’t what Tyler expected. “…You already did.”
Tyler flinched slightly. Silence followed immediately after. But it didn’t feel like punishment this time. It felt like truth that still needed space to exist. Tyler exhaled slowly. “…Yeah,” he said quietly. A pause. “I know.” Then, after a moment— “But I don’t think I’m done trying to earn it back.”
Katsuki didn’t argue. That alone felt like progress.
Minutes passed. Neither of them moved. The room stayed dark. Still. But not frozen anymore.
Eventually, Katsuki spoke again. “…Why me?”
Tyler blinked. Not a question he had an easy answer for. So he didn’t rush it. He thought about it. Really thought about it.
“I used to think it was because you were different from everyone else,” he admitted. A pause. “But that’s not it.” Katsuki didn’t respond. Just listened. Tyler continued quietly. “It’s because you didn’t pretend I was better than I was.” A beat. “You didn’t fall for the version of me I showed everyone else.” He swallowed. “You made me feel like I had to be real or not be around you at all.”
Silence.
“…That’s annoying,” Katsuki muttered.
Tyler let out a soft laugh. “Yeah.” A pause. “But it worked.”
Katsuki shifted in bed again. “…You’re still loud,” he said after a moment.
Tyler blinked. “…I’m not even talking loudly right now.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Tyler waited. Katsuki continued, reluctantly— “You’re just… still you.” A pause. “But different.”
Tyler stared at the ceiling again. “…Is that bad?”
Katsuki hesitated. Then— “I don’t know yet.” Same answer as before. But this time it didn’t feel like distance. It felt like observation.
A long silence settled after that. Comfortable in a way neither of them would’ve recognized a week ago. Before sleep finally took him, Katsuki added quietly: “…Don’t go back.”
Tyler didn’t even hesitate this time. “I won’t.” And for the first time— Katsuki believed he meant right now.
***
The next morning, Katsuki woke up slower than usual. Not from exhaustion this time. From comfort he wasn’t fully used to yet. The room was quiet in a different way than before—less heavy, more settled. Like something had finally stopped breaking. He sat up and immediately noticed the smell. Food. Real food. Warm, fresh, intentional. On Tyler’s desk sat a plate neatly arranged like someone had actually tried. Katsuki blinked at it for a moment. Then got up. There was a note tucked beside it. He picked it up first.
Gone to the store, brb :)
That little smiley at the end made Katsuki pause. “…Tch,” he muttered under his breath. But it didn’t sound annoyed.
He sat down and ate. And this time, he didn’t rush it. Didn’t overthink it. Just… ate. Like it was normal. Like this wasn’t some complicated emotional turning point wrapped in breakfast. Just food. Just morning. Just Tyler, trying.
About twenty minutes later, the door opened. Tyler walked in with a small grocery bag and an easy kind of energy that hadn’t been there before. Not fake. Not performative. Just… lighter. He stopped when he saw Katsuki. A small smile pulled at his face immediately.
“Good timing,” he said.
Katsuki glanced at him. “…You say that like you planned it.”
“I didn’t,” Tyler admitted easily. “But I’ll take it.”
That earned the smallest shift in Katsuki’s expression. Almost a reaction. Almost a smirk. Almost.
Tyler hesitated for half a second. Then his hands went behind his back. That motion already made Katsuki suspicious. “…What is it?” Katsuki asked.
Tyler rocked slightly on his heels. “Okay, don’t judge me.”
“That’s usually when I judge you,” Katsuki said flatly.
Tyler laughed. “Fair.” A pause. Then— “Remember how you said hibiscus were the prettiest flowers?”
Katsuki blinked. “…Yeah.” That caught him off guard in a way he didn’t expect.
Tyler’s smile softened. “Yeah, well.” He brought his hands forward. A bright bouquet of hibiscus. Not perfect. Not store-arranged. Just picked and bundled with obvious care. Held carefully like it mattered. “I saw them and immediately thought of you,” Tyler said. Then added quickly, almost bashful: “And I wanted you to have them.”
Katsuki stared. For a second, he actually forgot what he was supposed to say. Then— “…You bought flowers while getting shampoo?”
Tyler nodded. “Multitasking.”
That made Katsuki snort. Just a little. But it happened.
Tyler relaxed immediately at the sound. Like that tiny reaction mattered more than anything else. “I wasn’t sure if it was too much,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. “I just—yeah. I thought you’d like them.”
Katsuki looked at the flowers again. Then at Tyler. Then back at the flowers. “…They’re bright,” he said.
Tyler perked slightly. “Is that good or bad?”
Katsuki paused. Then, quieter— “Good.”
The room shifted with that one word. Not dramatically. Just enough. Like something that had been tense for a long time finally loosened a fraction. Tyler set the flowers carefully on Katsuki’s desk. Then stepped back like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to be proud of it yet.
Katsuki watched him. Then spoke. “You didn’t have to do all this.”
Tyler nodded. “I know.” A beat. “But I wanted to.” No pressure. No expectation. Just honesty.
Katsuki exhaled. Then, after a pause— “…They’re kind of nice.”
Tyler froze for half a second. Then smiled wider. “Kind of?”
Katsuki glanced away. “Don’t push it.”
Tyler laughed. “Okay, okay.” But he didn’t stop smiling.
A quiet moment passed. Not awkward. Not heavy. Just… shared.
Katsuki finally spoke again, softer than usual. “…You’re in a good mood.”
Tyler shrugged lightly. “Yeah.” A pause. “I think I slept better.”
Katsuki looked at him. “…Because of flowers?”
Tyler shook his head. “No.” Then, honestly— “Because you didn’t tell me to leave.”
That made Katsuki go still. But not uncomfortable. Just aware. Katsuki looked away, scratching lightly at the edge of his plate. “…Idiot,” he muttered. But there was no bite in it.
Tyler tilted his head. “Does that mean I can stay?”
Katsuki hesitated. Then, quieter—but clear— “…Yeah.” A pause. Then added: “Don’t make it weird.”
Tyler immediately nodded. “Noted. No weird.” A beat. “…Well, less weird.”
Katsuki shot him a look. Tyler held up a hand. “Improving. I’m improving.”
That finally pulled something real out of Katsuki— a small, reluctant laugh. And this time, it didn’t disappear. It stayed. Just long enough for both of them to notice. Just long enough for it to matter.
The laugh didn’t vanish the way Katsuki expected it to. That was the weird part. Usually moments like that slipped away immediately—like they weren’t allowed to exist for long. But this time, it lingered in the air between them. Light. Unfamiliar. Good.
Tyler noticed it too. His smile softened instead of growing louder, like he was afraid pushing it would break something fragile. “…I like that,” he said quietly.
Katsuki blinked. “Like what.”
Tyler shrugged. “When you do that.” A pause. “Laugh.”
Katsuki immediately looked away. “…It’s not that special.”
Tyler tilted his head. “I think it is.”
That made Katsuki pause. Not because it was dramatic. Because it wasn’t. It was said like a fact. Simple. Unforced.
Katsuki shifted slightly, suddenly more aware of the warmth in the room that hadn’t been there before. “…You’re being weird again,” he muttered.
Tyler grinned. “Better weird or worse weird?”
Katsuki glanced at him. “…Tolerable weird.”
Tyler gasped lightly like he’d been offended. “Moving up in the world.”
Katsuki huffed. But it wasn’t annoyance. Not really.
Tyler moved toward the window and opened it a little, letting fresh air in. The sunlight hit the room differently now too—less harsh, more soft morning gold. Katsuki noticed that too. He didn’t say it out loud. But he noticed.
“You ate everything?” Tyler asked suddenly, pointing at the empty plate.
Katsuki nodded. “…Yeah.”
Tyler looked genuinely pleased. “Nice.”
Katsuki frowned slightly. “…Why are you so happy about that?”
Tyler shrugged. “I made it.” A pause. “And you didn’t hate it.”
That made Katsuki stop for a second. Then quietly— “I didn’t say I didn’t hate it.”
Tyler blinked. Then laughed. “Okay, that’s fair.” There was no tension in it anymore. Just easy back-and-forth. Something they hadn’t really had before without it turning into misunderstanding or distance.
Katsuki stood slowly. “…You’re staying in today?”
Tyler nodded immediately. “Yeah.” Then, after a beat— “I was thinking we could go get lunch later if you want.” Katsuki looked at him. Tyler quickly added: “Not like—mandatory. Just if you want. Or not. Totally fine.”
Katsuki watched him fumble for a second. Then said— “…You don’t have to overthink everything.”
Tyler paused. Then smiled sheepishly. “Yeah… I’m working on that part.”
Katsuki nodded once. Then, after a moment: “…Lunch is fine.”
Tyler froze. Just for a second. Then— “Yeah?”
Katsuki shrugged like it was nothing. “Yeah.”
Tyler’s face lit up a little more than he tried to hide. “Okay. Cool. That’s—cool.”
Katsuki glanced at him. “You’re excited over lunch?”
Tyler nodded. “Very.”
Katsuki stared at him for a moment. Then, unexpectedly— “…You’re easy to impress.”
Tyler laughed immediately. “That’s not true.”
“It is.”
“It is not.”
Katsuki’s mouth twitched again. “…It is a little.”
Tyler pointed at him. “See? Progress.”
Katsuki rolled his eyes—but there was no real frustration behind it.
A comfortable silence settled again. This time, it didn’t feel like uncertainty. It felt like a pause. Like something that knew it would continue later.
Katsuki glanced at the flowers on his desk. Then back at Tyler. “…They’re still bright,” he said.
Tyler followed his gaze. “Yeah?”
Katsuki nodded slightly. “…Makes the room less boring.”
Tyler smiled softly. “That’s the goal.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke. But it wasn’t awkward. It was just… calm. The kind that didn’t exist between them before.
Katsuki finally moved toward the door. “I have class,” he said.
Tyler nodded. “Okay.”
A beat. Then Katsuki paused at the doorway. “…Don’t disappear today.”
Tyler didn’t hesitate. “Not planning to.”
Katsuki glanced back once. Then— “…Good.” And he left.
Tyler stood there for a moment after the door closed. Then exhaled a quiet laugh to himself. “…Okay,” he murmured. “Definitely getting somewhere.” And for the first time, it didn’t feel like he was chasing something breaking. It felt like he was learning how to build something that finally wasn’t.
***
Lunch didn’t feel like a big event. That was what made it dangerous in the best way. Katsuki almost backed out twice before they even left campus. Not because he didn’t want to go. Because it was too normal. Too casual for something that still felt slightly fragile in his hands. But Tyler didn’t push. He just waited outside the dorm, hands in his pockets, rocking slightly on his heels like he genuinely had nowhere better to be. And somehow, that made it easier.
They walked to the small café just off campus. Not one of the loud ones. Not one of the ones full of people Tyler knew. It was quieter. Warmer. The kind of place that didn’t ask questions.
Katsuki sat across from him, arms loosely folded.
Tyler immediately noticed. “You always sit like you’re ready to leave,” he said.
Katsuki glanced up. “…I don’t.”
Tyler tilted his head. “You do a little.” Katsuki frowned. Tyler smiled. “Not bad. Just… guarded.”
That word made Katsuki pause. He didn’t deny it.
They ordered. Something simple. Something safe. And for the first few minutes, it was just normal conversation. Too normal. Tyler telling a story about almost buying the wrong shampoo again. Katsuki pretending he wasn’t amused. A couple of quiet laughs slipping in without permission.
At some point, Katsuki realized something uncomfortable. He wasn’t waiting for the moment to go wrong. That used to be automatic. Now it wasn’t there. And that absence felt… strange. Good.
Tyler leaned back slightly in his chair. “…You’re calmer today,” he said.
Katsuki looked at him. “I’m always calm.”
Tyler hummed. “Sure.” A pause. Then softer— “I like this version of you.”
Katsuki’s eyes narrowed slightly. “What version.”
Tyler shrugged. “The one that doesn’t look like he’s bracing for impact all the time.”
That made Katsuki go quiet. Not defensive. Just thoughtful.
“…I didn’t realize I was doing that,” Katsuki admitted.
Tyler nodded once. “I know.” Then added quickly, like it mattered to clarify— “You don’t do it as much anymore.”
Katsuki glanced at him. “…Because of you?”
Tyler hesitated. Then shook his head slightly. “No.” A beat. “Because you don’t have to as much anymore.”
That landed differently. Not possessive. Not claiming. Just… noticing.
Their food came. They ate. It was simple. Normal. Good.
When they finished, they didn’t leave right away. That was new too. Neither of them rushed the end anymore.
Outside, the sun was softer than before. Katsuki stood on the sidewalk, adjusting his bag strap.
Tyler lingered for a moment. Then— “Hey,” he said. Katsuki looked up. Tyler hesitated. Just briefly. Then stepped closer. Not sudden. Not impulsive. Just closing the distance he had learned how to respect now. “Katsuki,” he said quietly.
“…Yeah?”
Tyler’s voice softened. “I had a good time.”
Katsuki blinked slightly. Then nodded. “…Me too.”
That should’ve been the end of it. It almost was. But Tyler didn’t step back immediately. He just looked at him for a second longer. Like he was weighing something. Not uncertainty. Timing.
Katsuki noticed. “…What?”
Tyler shook his head slightly. “Nothing. I just—” He stopped. Then exhaled. “I really like when you’re not pushing me away anymore.”
Katsuki looked at him for a long second. “…I didn’t realize I was that far gone.”
Tyler shook his head immediately. “No. That’s not what I meant.” A pause. “I meant I like that you’re still here while I’m figuring out how to be better.”
That made Katsuki still. Something in his chest tightened—not painfully. Just noticeably.
“…You’re getting better at talking,” Katsuki said quietly.
Tyler smiled a little. “Yeah?”
Katsuki nodded once. “…It’s less annoying.”
Tyler laughed. “High praise.”
For a second, everything felt light again. Like it had at breakfast. Like it had in the dorm. Like it was starting to become a pattern instead of a miracle.
Tyler stepped a little closer again. Not rushing. Just present. “…Can I do something?” he asked softly.
Katsuki raised an eyebrow. “Depends.”
Tyler smiled faintly. “Fair.” A pause. Then he leaned in— Slow enough that Katsuki had time to move away if he wanted to. But Katsuki didn’t. Not this time.
The kiss was brief. Warm. Uncomplicated. Not intense like before. Not messy. Just real. A moment that didn’t demand anything from either of them except that it happened.
Tyler pulled back first, just slightly. Checking him. Waiting. Katsuki didn’t look shocked. He just… stared at him. Like he was processing something new that didn’t feel like danger.
“…That was you asking?” Katsuki said quietly.
Tyler nodded. “Yeah.” A beat. “Was it okay?”
Katsuki hesitated. Then— “…Yeah.” A pause. Then, quieter: “It was.”
Tyler smiled properly this time. Relieved. Happy. Not frantic. Just there.
Katsuki looked away first—but not to leave. Just because his face felt a little too warm. “…You’re still weird,” he muttered.
Tyler grinned. “Yeah.” A beat. “But you kissed me back.”
Katsuki immediately looked at him again. “Don’t push it.”
Tyler held up his hands. “Not pushing. Just observing.”
Katsuki rolled his eyes—but he didn’t move away.
They stood there a moment longer. Not rushing. Not breaking it. Just letting it exist. And for the first time, neither of them felt like they were catching up to something lost. They felt like they were finally starting something that was actually theirs.
They didn’t move right away after the kiss. Not apart. Not closer either. Just… paused in the space between what they used to be and whatever this was becoming. And for once, it didn’t feel uncomfortable. It felt intentional.
Tyler’s gaze stayed on Katsuki’s face like he was learning it again. Not memorizing it. Just noticing it differently. The way Katsuki’s expression didn’t fully soften—but didn’t shut down either. The way his eyes lingered instead of escaping. The way he didn’t step back.
Katsuki cleared his throat quietly. “…You’re staring.”
Tyler blinked once. Then smiled faintly. “Sorry.” He didn’t look away.
Katsuki huffed. But there was no real frustration behind it. “…You’re in a good mood,” he said instead.
Tyler nodded. “I am.” A beat. “Kind of hard not to be.”
That made Katsuki glance at him again. “…Because of lunch?”
Tyler shook his head. “No.” A pause. “Because of you.”
That landed differently. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just simple enough that Katsuki didn’t know what to do with it immediately.
“…You’re getting bold,” Katsuki muttered.
Tyler smiled a little wider. “Only a little.”
Katsuki looked away—but his mouth twitched again like it was fighting something. The wind shifted slightly between them, warm sunlight brushing over the sidewalk. Tyler adjusted his bag strap, then hesitated. Like he was deciding something. Then he reached out—slowly. Not grabbing. Not pulling. Just offering his hand, palm open. Waiting.
Katsuki stared at it. For a second too long to pretend he didn’t notice. “…What are you doing?” he asked quietly.
Tyler shrugged slightly. “Walking back?” A pause. Then softer— “If that’s okay.”
Katsuki didn’t respond immediately. His eyes flicked from Tyler’s hand to his face. Searching for pressure. For expectation. For the old version of this dynamic where Tyler would’ve made it a joke or a demand. But there wasn’t any. Just patience.
“…You’re really annoying,” Katsuki said finally.
Tyler nodded. “I know.” A beat. “But is that a yes?”
Katsuki exhaled through his nose. Slowly. Then, almost reluctantly— “…Yeah.”
Tyler’s smile softened immediately. Not big. Not loud. Just real relief. He didn’t grab Katsuki’s hand fast. He just let Katsuki decide the motion. And Katsuki did. Fingers brushing first. Then actually holding on. It wasn’t tight. It wasn’t possessive. Just connected. Like they were testing if the bridge between them would hold. And it did.
They started walking. Side by side. Hands linked. Not hidden. Not rushed. Just existing like it was allowed now.
Katsuki glanced down once. Then quietly said, “…This is new.”
Tyler hummed. “Yeah.” A pause. “Do you hate it?”
Katsuki thought about it. Longer than expected. Then— “…No.” A beat. “…Just not used to it.”
Tyler nodded. “That’s fair.” He didn’t squeeze his hand tighter. Just stayed steady.
They passed a few students on the sidewalk. Someone looked over. Then looked away again. Neither of them reacted. That was new too.
After a while, Katsuki spoke again. “…You’re warmer now.”
Tyler glanced at him. “Emotionally or physically?” Katsuki shot him a look. Tyler laughed quietly. “Sorry.” A pause. “Emotionally, I think.”
Katsuki considered that. Then nodded slightly. “…Yeah.” A beat. “It’s less exhausting.” That wasn’t a complaint. It was an observation. And Tyler understood exactly what he meant.
They slowed slightly as they got closer to the dorm. Neither of them seemed eager for the walk to end.
Tyler spoke softer now. “…Can I kiss you again later?”
Katsuki immediately looked at him. Not shocked. Just alert. “…You’re asking too much too fast.”
Tyler nodded instantly. “Okay.” A pause. “I can wait.”
Katsuki studied him for a second. Then, quieter— “…You’re actually listening.”
Tyler didn’t hesitate. “Yeah.” A beat. “Because I don’t want to lose this.”
Katsuki didn’t respond right away. But his grip tightened slightly around Tyler’s hand. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to mean something.
“…Good,” Katsuki said finally. Then, after a pause— “Because I’m not ready for you to disappear again.”
Tyler’s expression softened immediately. “I’m not going to.”
Katsuki glanced at him. “Don’t promise it.”
Tyler nodded. “Okay.” A beat. “I’ll just stay.”
And this time, Katsuki didn’t argue. Just kept walking beside him. Hand in hand. Like it was becoming normal. Like maybe—just maybe—it could be.
They didn’t let go of each other’s hands when they got back to the dorm. That alone felt like a decision. Not accidental anymore. Not a moment that might be explained away later. Just… chosen.
Inside, the room felt different too. Not because it had changed. Because they had. Tyler shut the door behind them a little slower than usual, like he was respecting the fact that something fragile was still unfolding. Katsuki didn’t move away immediately. He just stood there for a second, still holding Tyler’s hand. Like he forgot to let go. Or didn’t want to.
“…We’re still holding hands,” Katsuki said quietly.
Tyler looked down, like he’d only just noticed. Then smiled a little. “Yeah.” A pause. “…Is that bad?”
Katsuki thought about it. Longer than he would’ve before. Then— “No.” That was it. Simple. Final.
Tyler’s smile softened. He didn’t push it further. Just gave Katsuki space to decide what came next. That patience alone made something in Katsuki’s chest loosen again.
Katsuki finally let go—but not abruptly. Slowly. Like he was setting it down instead of pulling away. And even then, his fingers lingered for half a second longer than necessary. Tyler noticed. Of course he did. But he didn’t say anything. He just stayed close. Katsuki sat on the edge of his bed. Tyler sat on his own—but angled toward him. Not distant. Just careful.
A quiet stretched between them. Not heavy anymore. Just… warm. Like they were getting used to existing in the same space without bracing for impact.
Tyler broke it first, softer than before. “…Can I sit closer?”
Katsuki glanced at him immediately. “Why.”
Tyler shrugged slightly. “I like being near you.” No dramatics. No pressure. Just honesty.
Katsuki stared at him for a second. Then scoffed quietly. “…You’re really straightforward now.”
Tyler smiled. “I’m trying.” A pause. “…Is that okay?” That question again. Not assumed. Not taken. Offered.
Katsuki exhaled slowly. Then shifted slightly on the bed. “…Yeah,” he said. A beat. “Come here.”
Tyler didn’t rush. He just moved over and sat beside him. Close enough that their shoulders almost touched. Close enough that it felt intentional. Not accidental proximity. Chosen proximity. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Katsuki’s eyes flicked down to where their arms were almost brushing. Then back up. Then away again. Like he was still getting used to the fact that Tyler wasn’t leaving space like a warning anymore.
“…You’re different up close,” Katsuki muttered.
Tyler tilted his head slightly. “Good different?”
Katsuki hesitated. Then, quieter— “…Less fake than I thought.” That wasn’t an insult. It was an observation Katsuki had been sitting on for a while.
Tyler’s expression softened. “I think I used to be louder than I was real,” he admitted. A pause. “But I don’t want to be that anymore.”
Katsuki looked at him. Really looked. Not guarded this time. Just present.
“…You’re kind of annoying,” Katsuki said again, but it lacked any bite.
Tyler smiled immediately. “I’ve heard that before.” A beat. “From you.”
Katsuki huffed softly. “…Yeah.” Then, after a pause— “…But it’s less annoying now.”
Tyler’s smile widened slightly. “That’s progress.”
The room stayed quiet after that. But it didn’t feel empty. It felt full in a way neither of them had words for yet.
Tyler shifted slightly, leaning back on his hands. “…Can I try something?” he asked gently.
Katsuki didn’t immediately say no. That was already new. “…Depends.”
Tyler nodded. “Okay.” A pause. Then he leaned in slowly again. Slower than before. Giving Katsuki time. Space. Choice.
Katsuki didn’t move away. Not even slightly.
The second kiss wasn’t hesitant like the first one had been. It was softer. Longer. Less like discovery. More like confirmation. Like they were both realizing, quietly, that this wasn’t a mistake anymore.
When Tyler pulled back, he stayed close. Just enough to see Katsuki’s expression clearly. Katsuki blinked once. Then again. Like he was processing.
“…You’re smiling,” Katsuki said quietly.
Tyler blinked. Then realized he was. “…Yeah,” he admitted. A beat. “I am.”
Katsuki looked away—but not quickly. Not to escape. Just… shyly. Barely noticeable. “…Don’t get used to it,” he muttered.
Tyler laughed softly. “I’ll try not to.” A pause. Then, gentler— “But I kind of hope I do.”
That made Katsuki glance at him again. This time, there was no distance in his eyes. Just something quieter. Warmer. Less defended.
“…You’re still here,” Katsuki said softly.
Tyler nodded immediately. “Yeah.” A beat. “Right here.”
Katsuki studied him for a long moment. Then, almost reluctantly— “…Okay.” Not forgiveness. Not forever. Just acceptance of the moment they were in.
Tyler’s hand shifted slightly on the bed. Close to Katsuki’s. Not touching yet. Waiting. And this time— Katsuki was the one who closed the distance first.
The space between their hands didn’t disappear all at once.
It narrowed the way everything between them had been changing—slowly, deliberately, like neither of them wanted to scare it off.
Katsuki’s fingers brushed Tyler’s first. Accidental at first. Or at least, it could’ve been called that. But neither of them moved away.
Tyler glanced down, then back up at Katsuki like he was checking for permission without saying it. Katsuki didn’t look away. That was his answer. Tyler shifted slightly closer. Not pressing. Not invading. Just enough that their shoulders finally touched. And this time, Katsuki didn’t tense. He just… stayed there. Like he was realizing it didn’t have to hurt to be close.
“…You’re warm,” Katsuki said quietly.
Tyler smiled a little. “Is that bad?”
Katsuki shook his head once. “…No.” A pause. Then, softer— “It’s… distracting.”
Tyler let out a quiet laugh. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” Katsuki shot him a look. Tyler immediately corrected himself. “Okay. I’ll maybe take it as a compliment.” That earned the smallest shift in Katsuki’s mouth. Almost a smile. Almost.
The room outside them stayed quiet. But inside it, something was slowly changing shape. Not rushing. Not demanding. Just unfolding.
Tyler leaned back slightly on his hands, still close. “…Can I tell you something?” he asked.
Katsuki hesitated. Then nodded once. “Yeah.”
Tyler didn’t joke this time. Didn’t soften it with humor. “I used to think I was good at being wanted,” he admitted. A pause. “But I wasn’t used to wanting someone back.” Katsuki looked at him more directly at that. Tyler continued. “So I didn’t know what to do when it actually mattered.” Katsuki didn’t interrupt. He just listened. That was new too. “…I thought if I kept things light,” Tyler said, “nobody could get hurt.” A beat. “But I think I just made it so I didn’t have to feel anything too deeply either.” He swallowed slightly. “And then I met you, and that didn’t work anymore.”
Silence settled. But it wasn’t heavy. It was… honest.
Katsuki finally spoke quietly. “…You weren’t nothing to me.”
Tyler blinked. That wasn’t what he expected.
Katsuki looked away slightly, like saying it directly was harder than anything Tyler had just said. “I just didn’t know what you were to me either,” he admitted. A pause. “…And that scared me.”
Tyler’s expression softened immediately. Not triumphant. Not relieved in a loud way. Just… careful. “I think it scared me too,” he said gently.
Katsuki glanced at him again. The silence that followed felt different now. Less like distance. More like understanding that hadn’t fully settled yet.
Tyler shifted slightly. “…Can I hold your hand again?” he asked quietly.
Katsuki looked at him. This time, there wasn’t hesitation for long. Just a brief pause. Then— “…Yeah.”
Tyler didn’t grab immediately. He let Katsuki decide the movement. And Katsuki did. Fingers sliding into his with less resistance than before. More familiarity. Less testing.
Tyler exhaled softly. “…I like this,” he said.
Katsuki huffed quietly. “…You like everything.”
Tyler shook his head. “No.” A beat. “I like this.” He didn’t explain further. He didn’t need to.
Katsuki looked down at their hands for a moment. Then, quietly— “…It’s not as annoying as I thought it would be.”
Tyler laughed softly. “That’s your love language?”
Katsuki shot him a look immediately. “Don’t call it that.”
Tyler held up his free hand. “Okay, okay.” But he was still smiling.
A comfortable quiet settled again. But now it wasn’t filled with uncertainty. It was filled with presence.
Tyler leaned slightly closer again. Not kissing this time. Just closer. And Katsuki didn’t move away.
“…You’re staring again,” Katsuki muttered.
Tyler blinked. Then smiled. “I can stop.”
Katsuki shook his head slightly. “…No.” A pause. “…Just don’t make it weird.”
Tyler’s smile softened. “I won’t.”
And he didn’t. He just stayed there. Close. Steady. Real.
Katsuki slowly leaned his head back against the bed behind him. “…This is new,” he said again.
Tyler nodded. “Yeah.” A pause. “But I like it.”
Katsuki hesitated. Then, quietly— “…Me too.”
And this time, it didn’t feel like something they were trying. It felt like something they were finally allowed to have.
They stayed like that for a while—hands linked, shoulders touching, neither of them rushing the moment into something bigger than it was.
Katsuki kept expecting it to feel awkward. It didn’t. It just… stayed. Like it belonged there.
Tyler shifted slightly, thumb brushing once over Katsuki’s knuckles. Not repetitive. Not nervous. Just… present.
Katsuki noticed immediately. “…You do that a lot,” he said quietly.
Tyler glanced down. “Do what?”
“Touch things like you’re checking if they’re real.”
Tyler paused. Then, softer— “…Maybe I am.”
That made Katsuki look at him. Properly.
“Am I not real enough for you?” Katsuki asked, blunt as always.
Tyler blinked at the question. Then immediately shook his head. “No—no, that’s not what I meant.” A beat. “I think I just spent a long time being around people without actually… feeling grounded in it.” He hesitated. “But you feel real.”
Katsuki frowned slightly. “That doesn’t make sense.”
Tyler smiled a little. “It does to me.”
The room softened again after that. Not silence. Just ease.
Katsuki shifted slightly, still not letting go of Tyler’s hand. “…You’re quieter like this,” he said.
Tyler raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”
“Like you’re not performing.”
That made Tyler stop for a second. Then he laughed quietly—not defensive, just surprised. “…Yeah,” he admitted. “I think I used to fill silence so people wouldn’t notice I didn’t know what to do with it.”
Katsuki glanced at him. “And now?”
Tyler looked at him. “…Now I think I like it when it’s just us.”
That sentence landed differently. Not intense. Just honest in a way that didn’t ask for anything back.
Katsuki looked away again—but not quickly. “…You’re still annoying,” he muttered.
Tyler grinned. “I’ve been told that’s part of my charm.”
Katsuki huffed softly. “…No one told you that.”
Tyler leaned a little closer. “I’m telling myself that.”
That earned the smallest exhale from Katsuki that almost sounded like a laugh. Almost.
A pause settled between them again. But this one felt different too. Like something was building underneath it instead of just floating above them.
Tyler shifted, voice softer now. “…Can I try something again?”
Katsuki didn’t immediately say yes or no. Just looked at him. Waiting. That alone felt like progress. “…What,” Katsuki asked.
Tyler hesitated only briefly this time. Then leaned in slowly. Not rushed. Not unsure. Just careful. Giving Katsuki every chance to move away if he wanted. Katsuki didn’t. Not even slightly.
The kiss was slower than the last ones. Less surprised. More aware. Like they were both choosing it this time instead of falling into it. Tyler’s hand tightened gently around Katsuki’s. Katsuki didn’t pull away. He actually leaned in slightly. Just enough that it wasn’t one-sided anymore.
When they finally pulled apart, neither of them moved far. Just enough to breathe. Close enough that nothing about the moment really ended.
Tyler exhaled softly. “…Okay,” he murmured.
Katsuki blinked at him. “…Okay what.”
Tyler smiled. “I just needed to know I wasn’t imagining it.”
Katsuki immediately narrowed his eyes. “You think I would just let you do that if I didn’t—” He stopped. Mid-sentence. Because he didn’t finish it. And Tyler noticed.
Tyler’s expression softened. “…If you didn’t what?” he asked gently.
Katsuki looked away. “…Never mind.” But his grip didn’t loosen.
Tyler didn’t push. Just nodded. “Okay.” Then added, quieter— “I’m not going anywhere.”
Katsuki glanced at him again. “…Don’t say that like it’s easy.”
Tyler shook his head. “It’s not.” A beat. “But it’s true.”
That time, Katsuki didn’t argue. He just stayed close. Still holding his hand. Still there. After a moment, Katsuki spoke softly. “…You’re kind of different when you’re like this.”
Tyler tilted his head. “Like what?”
Katsuki hesitated. Then— “…Mine.” It came out quieter than everything else. Almost like he didn’t mean to say it out loud.
Tyler went still for half a second. Then smiled slowly. Not teasing. Not loud. Just warm. “…Yeah?” he asked softly.
Katsuki looked at him. Then, more firmly this time— “…Yeah.”
And for the first time, neither of them treated the word like a joke. Or a risk. Just something real enough to hold onto.
The word mine didn’t get taken back. But Katsuki looked like he expected it to echo wrong. Like the room might suddenly correct him for saying it out loud. It didn’t. Nothing broke. Nothing changed except the air between them getting a little warmer.
Tyler didn’t tease him. That was the first unusual thing. No grin. No joke. No “say that again.” Just a slow blink… and a softer smile like he was letting the word settle properly before touching it.
“…I like that,” Tyler said quietly.
Katsuki’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You’re not supposed to.”
Tyler shrugged a little. “I know.” A pause. “But I do.”
Katsuki exhaled through his nose like he was annoyed at his own chest for reacting. “…You’re easy,” he muttered.
Tyler leaned a little closer, still holding his hand. “Easy?”
Katsuki nodded once. “To read.”
Tyler thought about that. Then shook his head gently. “No.” Katsuki looked at him. Tyler’s voice softened. “I think I’m just finally letting you see me.” That made Katsuki pause. Not defensive. Just… still.
The silence this time wasn’t avoidance. It was closeness without movement. Like neither of them wanted to interrupt what was forming.
Tyler shifted slightly, lifting Katsuki’s hand between them without fully letting go. His thumb brushed over Katsuki’s knuckles again—slower this time. Intentional.
Katsuki watched it. Then quietly said, “…You keep doing that.”
Tyler glanced up. “Is it bad?”
Katsuki hesitated. Then— “…No.” A pause. “…It’s just new.”
Tyler nodded. “I can stop if it’s too much.”
Katsuki immediately shook his head. “No.” Then, quieter— “…Don’t stop.”
That landed heavier than he probably intended. Tyler didn’t respond right away. Just looked at him. Like he was trying not to overwhelm the moment. Then— “Okay,” he said softly. Not excited. Not loud. Just steady. “I won’t.”
Katsuki shifted closer without meaning to. It wasn’t a big movement. Just enough that their shoulders pressed more firmly together. Neither of them commented on it. Neither of them moved away.
“…You smell different,” Katsuki said after a moment.
Tyler blinked. Then laughed softly. “That’s not a romantic thing to say.”
Katsuki frowned slightly. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
Tyler smiled. “I know.” A pause. “…Is it good different or bad different?”
Katsuki thought for a second. Then— “…Good.”
That word again. Simple. Unfiltered.
Tyler’s expression softened more. He leaned his head slightly closer, not fully resting it on Katsuki, just hovering near enough that their space blurred.
“You’re doing that thing again,” Katsuki said quietly.
Tyler hummed. “What thing?”
“Being… soft.”
Tyler gave a small breath. “I think I’m only soft around you.”
That made Katsuki go still. Not flustered in a loud way. Just quietly aware. “…Don’t say stuff like that,” Katsuki muttered.
Tyler tilted his head. “Why?”
Katsuki hesitated. “…Because it’s distracting.”
Tyler smiled immediately. “Oh. That’s good again.” Katsuki shot him a look. Tyler laughed softly. “Sorry.” But he didn’t move away.
The room felt smaller in a good way now. Not crowded. Just filled. Like everything unnecessary had been stripped away.
Tyler finally leaned in again—but slower than before. Not asking with words this time. Just giving Katsuki the chance to stop it. Katsuki didn’t stop it. He actually met him halfway. The kiss was softer than all the others. Long enough to feel like a decision. Gentle enough to feel like trust. No rush. No hesitation. Just them, finally not fighting the space between them anymore. When they pulled apart, Katsuki stayed close. Closer than before. Their foreheads almost touched. And neither of them moved back.
“…You’re still here,” Katsuki said quietly.
Tyler nodded once. “Yeah.”
Katsuki’s fingers tightened slightly in Tyler’s hand. Not anxious. Just holding on. “…Good,” he said. A beat. “…Don’t get bored.”
Tyler’s smile turned softer. “I don’t think I can.”
Katsuki looked at him. “Don’t say things you can’t prove.”
Tyler leaned in just slightly again. “I think I’m proving it.”
Katsuki didn’t argue. Instead, he shifted even closer. Until their shoulders were fully pressed together. Until the space between them stopped feeling like distance at all.
“…You’re kind of annoying,” Katsuki said again. But this time his voice was lower. Almost fond.
Tyler smiled. “I’m yours though.”
Katsuki didn’t deny it. He just leaned his head lightly against Tyler’s shoulder. “…Yeah,” he murmured after a moment. “…You are.” And neither of them corrected it this time.
***
They were back in the dorm again. Late evening. The kind of quiet that didn’t feel empty anymore—just dim and soft, like the world had stepped outside the room and left them alone with each other. Tyler was sitting on the floor by Katsuki’s bed. Katsuki was on the edge of it again, legs slightly bent, hands resting loosely in his lap. Closer than they used to sit. Not careful anymore. Just natural.
Tyler traced absent circles on the carpet with his fingers. He’d been quieter than usual for the last ten minutes. Not distant. Just thinking.
Katsuki noticed immediately. “…You’re doing that thing again,” he said.
Tyler glanced up. “What thing?”
“Like you’re about to say something stupid.”
That earned a small laugh. “I’m not.” Katsuki raised an eyebrow. Tyler hesitated. Then smiled a little less confidently. “…Okay. Maybe a little.” Silence again. But softer this time. Tyler exhaled slowly, then looked down at his hands. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to say something,” he admitted. Katsuki didn’t interrupt. Just watched him. Tyler continued. “And I keep thinking if I say it wrong, I’ll mess everything up again.” A pause. “But not saying it feels worse now.”
Katsuki’s gaze sharpened slightly. “…Just say it,” he said quietly.
Tyler looked up at him. Really looked. No joking now. No charm. Just honesty, unguarded and steady. “I’m in love with you,” he said. Simple. Direct. No decoration.
The room didn’t move. Nothing dramatic happened. No sudden silence. No shockwave. Just truth sitting between them for the first time without disguise.
Katsuki stared at him. Long enough that Tyler’s expression tightened slightly—not fear, but uncertainty. Like he was ready to accept any outcome.
Katsuki finally spoke. “…You say that like it’s easy.”
Tyler shook his head immediately. “It’s not.” A pause. “I just don’t want to lie about it anymore.”
Katsuki looked away. Not fast. Not avoiding. Just… processing. His fingers flexed slightly in his lap. “…You used to say things like that to everyone,” Katsuki said quietly.
Tyler nodded. “I know.” A beat. “But I never meant them like this.”
That made Katsuki glance back at him. Tyler didn’t flinch. Didn’t rush. Just stayed there.
Katsuki’s voice lowered. “…What makes this different?”
Tyler didn’t hesitate this time. “You don’t make me feel like I can disappear and still matter.” A pause. “You make me feel like if I leave, something real actually loses me.”
Silence settled again. But it wasn’t empty. It was full.
Katsuki swallowed slightly. “…You’re serious,” he said quietly.
Tyler nodded once. “Yeah.”
Another pause. Then Katsuki spoke again, softer. “…You don’t get to say that lightly.”
Tyler shook his head. “I’m not.” A beat. “I’ve been trying to earn the right to say it for a while.”
That landed differently. Not pressure. Not expectation. Just weight.
Katsuki finally stood up from the bed. Tyler didn’t move. Just watched him carefully. Katsuki stepped closer. Slow. Measured. Until he was standing right in front of him.
“…You’re annoying,” Katsuki said again.
Tyler gave a small, uncertain smile. “I know.”
Katsuki stared at him for a moment longer. Then, quieter— “…And you don’t leave when I make it hard.” Tyler’s breath caught slightly. Katsuki continued. “You didn’t even leave when I told you to.” A pause. “…That’s stupid.”
Tyler let out a quiet laugh through his nose. “Yeah.”
Katsuki’s hand lifted slightly, hesitating in the air between them. Tyler didn’t move. Just waited.
Then Katsuki grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him in. Not rough. Not hesitant anymore. Just certain. The kiss this time wasn’t testing. It wasn’t cautious. It was real in a way that didn’t need explanation. Tyler’s hands came up slowly, steadying Katsuki like he was afraid to assume too much. But Katsuki didn’t pull away. Not even slightly. When they finally separated, Katsuki stayed close enough that their breaths still mixed. Tyler looked at him like he was waiting for the answer that mattered most.
Katsuki exhaled. “…I don’t say things like that,” he muttered.
Tyler nodded. “I know.” A pause. Then Katsuki added, quieter than everything before it— “…But I’m not saying no.”
Tyler blinked. Just once. Like that had to sink in properly. Then his expression softened completely. Not relief. Not victory. Just something warm and stunned and real. “…Okay,” Tyler said softly.
Katsuki frowned slightly. “Don’t get smug.”
Tyler immediately shook his head. “I’m not.” A beat. “I’m just… really happy.”
Katsuki looked away first. But his hand didn’t leave Tyler’s shirt. And after a moment, he muttered— “…Idiot.”
Tyler smiled. “Yeah.”
And this time, neither of them needed anything more than that. They didn’t rush anything after that night. Not the feelings. Not the words. Not even the way they existed in the same room. It all just… settled. Like something that had been shaking for a long time finally found the ground again.
Days turned into something softer. Not suddenly perfect. Just quieter in the ways that mattered. Tyler didn’t disappear anymore. Not even in small ways. If he said he’d be there, he was there. If Katsuki looked up from practice, Tyler was usually nearby—reading, studying, or just waiting without making it feel like waiting. And Katsuki stopped bracing for it to end. That was the biggest change.
People noticed. Of course they did. Tyler wasn’t the same loud presence anymore. And Katsuki wasn’t as sharp-edged when Tyler was around. But neither of them explained it. They didn’t need to.
One evening, much later, Katsuki found Tyler sitting outside the dorm steps again. Same place as before. But this time, Katsuki didn’t pause. He just walked over and sat beside him. Shoulder to shoulder. No hesitation.
Tyler glanced at him. Then smiled. “You’re late.”
Katsuki scoffed. “…I’m on time.”
Tyler hummed. “Debatable.”
Katsuki elbowed him lightly. Tyler laughed. And Katsuki didn’t tell him to shut up.
They sat in silence after that. Not awkward. Not filled with unsaid things anymore. Just calm.
The sun was setting. Warm light spilling over the steps, softening everything it touched.
Tyler leaned back on his hands. “…Do you ever think about how weird this is?” he asked.
Katsuki didn’t look at him. “…You’re weird.”
Tyler smiled. “I mean us.”
That made Katsuki pause. Then he leaned back too, staring up at the sky. “…Yeah,” he admitted. A beat. “…But it’s not bad weird.”
Tyler turned his head slightly. “What kind is it?”
Katsuki thought about it for a moment longer than usual. Then— “…The kind that stays.” Silence followed that. But it wasn’t heavy. It was full.
Tyler shifted closer, until their shoulders touched again. This time, Katsuki was the one who didn’t move away first.
“…I love you,” Tyler said quietly. Not like a confession anymore. Like something he was allowed to say now. Something that didn’t need courage every time.
Katsuki didn’t look surprised. He just exhaled slowly. “…Yeah,” he said after a moment. A pause. “…I know.” Then, quieter— “…I love you too.”
It didn’t feel like a climax. There was no sudden change in the world. No dramatic resolution. Just something simple finally being true out loud.
Tyler turned slightly toward him. “You’re not gonna make that weird now, are you?” he asked.
Katsuki shot him a look. “…Shut up.”
Tyler smiled. “Got it.”
Katsuki leaned his head lightly against Tyler’s shoulder. Not hesitant anymore. Not testing. Just choosing it.
And Tyler didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just stayed. Like he always should have. Like he finally knew how to.
The sun dipped lower. The world kept going. But for them, it didn’t feel like anything was missing anymore. Just two people, sitting together, no longer afraid of what staying meant.
***
Years later, Katsuki still didn’t like big announcements. So when it happened, it wasn’t loud. It wasn’t staged. It wasn’t anything like the kind of moment people usually imagined for a proposal. It was just… them.
They were at the same place they always ended up when life got too full. The steps outside the old dorm building. The campus had changed around it—new paint, new walkways—but that corner of stairs still looked the same. Like it remembered them.
Tyler was sitting one step below Katsuki, leaning back slightly. Katsuki was beside him, one knee drawn up, watching the sky turn soft gold. Quiet. Familiar.
Tyler spoke first. “…We’ve been doing this a long time.”
Katsuki hummed. “You’re just noticing?”
Tyler smiled. “No.” A pause. “I think I’ve just been thinking about it differently lately.”
That made Katsuki glance at him. “…Differently how.”
Tyler didn’t answer immediately. That alone made Katsuki sit up a little straighter.
Tyler reached into his pocket. Not dramatically. Not suddenly. Just like it was something he’d been holding onto all day, waiting for the right moment that wasn’t really a moment at all.
When he pulled his hand out, there was a ring. Simple. Clean. Not flashy. Not performative. Just intentional.
Katsuki stared at it for a second. Then at Tyler. “…You’re serious.”
Tyler nodded. “Yeah.” A beat. “I’ve been serious for a while.”
Katsuki didn’t speak immediately. He just looked at the ring. Then looked away toward the horizon like he needed space to process something too big to name quickly. “…You didn’t do anything stupid like propose in public,” Katsuki muttered.
Tyler let out a small breath of laughter. “No.” A pause. “I know you’d hate that.”
That made Katsuki exhale through his nose. “…Good.”
Silence again. But different.
Tyler continued quietly. “I don’t need it to be big.” A beat. “I just want it to be real.” He looked at Katsuki. “You’re the only part of my life that ever stayed steady when I didn’t deserve it.”
Katsuki frowned slightly at that. “…Don’t say it like that.”
Tyler nodded immediately. “Okay.” A pause. Then softer— “You stayed anyway.” That one landed better.
Katsuki looked at the ring again. Then at Tyler’s face. He didn’t look nervous. Not really. Just open. Waiting. Not pushing. Just there.
“…You’re still annoying,” Katsuki said quietly.
Tyler smiled faintly. “Yeah.” A beat. “But I’m yours.”
Katsuki exhaled slowly. Then, almost reluctantly— “…You’ve always been mine.”
Tyler’s expression shifted slightly at that. Not surprised. Just moved.
A long pause followed. Not tense. Just full of everything they didn’t need to say out loud anymore.
Finally, Katsuki held out his hand. Not shaking. Not hesitant. Just steady.
Tyler didn’t rush. He just slipped the ring on carefully. Like it mattered more than anything he’d ever done. It fit.
Katsuki looked at it for a moment. Then muttered— “…Don’t get cocky.”
Tyler laughed softly. “I won’t.” A pause. “…Too late for that?” Katsuki shot him a look. Tyler immediately corrected himself. “Okay. I’ll try not to.”
They sat there for a while after that. Same steps. Same sky. Different everything.
***
The wedding itself wasn’t grand either. It never was going to be. No huge venue. No crowd they didn’t know. Just a small space filled with the people who had actually stayed. Emi crying quietly in the corner. Old friends laughing too loud. A mix of chaos and warmth that Katsuki tolerated only because Tyler was smiling at him the whole time like none of it mattered more than this exact moment.
When Katsuki finally walked down toward him, Tyler looked like he forgot how to breathe for a second. Just one. Then he smiled. Soft. Real. The kind of smile that didn’t belong to the version of him from years ago.
They didn’t say long vows. Katsuki didn’t want them. Tyler didn’t need them. Just words that mattered.
Katsuki spoke when it was time to say their vows, “If I had to write a book about us, I would call it: How to Fall in Love with your Jackass Roommate.”
Tyler smiled at that, knowing he was a jackass, but he was a jackass who was marrying the love of his life.
When they were finally alone later, Katsuki tugged lightly at Tyler’s sleeve. “…You’re staring again,” he muttered.
Tyler smiled. “I married you.”
Katsuki rolled his eyes. “…Don’t remind me.” But he didn’t let go of his hand.
And Tyler didn’t either. Not ever again.
It was never about falling in love with the guy who slept around and flirted with everyone, or went to parties every weekend. Not about the guy who played football, or the guy he had to share a room with. But the guy who stayed when it truly mattered.