Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

It was late afternoon, the sun bleeding gold across the edges of the buildings, making everything look warmer than it actually felt. The air had cooled in that deceptive early-autumn way, where the breeze crept through hoodie sleeves and settled somewhere behind your collarbone. Footsteps echoed across the wide path outside the campus gym, sneakers scuffing pavement, the sharp sounding of a vending machine swallowing yen.

Katsuki stepped out from the gym, towel slung over his shoulder, earbuds in. His muscles still hummed with leftover adrenaline, the kind that only dulled after a good set. He squinted into the sunlight, debating whether to head back to the dorms or grab a drink first.

That’s when he noticed him.

Messy hair. Green. Smaller frame, slightly hunched. One of those types. The one he’d seen around campus a few times now—frizzy curls, freckles, oversized hoodie, kind of a deer-in-headlights look most of the time. Katsuki didn’t know his name, but he’d seen him standing at the edge of crowds, sprinting across lecture halls, clutching notebooks to his chest like a lifeline. A med student, maybe. Kind of cute in a chaotic way. Not that Katsuki cared. Katsuki had a weird habit of remembering people’s faces. And this one? He stuck out.

What made him pause wasn’t the guy’s face, though, it was the bottle in his hands. Or more specifically, the way he was struggling to open it.

Katsuki watched, eyebrows furrowed, as the guy used his sleeve, his hoodie, even tried the old tap-on-the-side-of-a-bench trick, none of it worked. The cap wouldn’t budge. His knuckles were turning pink from effort, and he made this soft frustrated sound in his throat, like a puppy being denied a treat.

Katsuki paused in front of the vending machine, watching this quiet struggle for a beat too long.

Then, the guy looked up.

Big green eyes met red.

“Uh.. hi,” the guy said, voice sheepish. “sorry, this is super random, but, um— could you help me open this? I—I think it’s stuck.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes. He didn’t even take his other earbud out. “Seriously?”

The guy winced. “Yeah, I—I’ve been trying for a while, but it won’t budge..”

Katsuki stared at him for a second. Then, wordlessly, he reached out and snatched the bottle from his hands.

Izuku blinked. “Wait, wha—?”

Katsuki twisted the cap with one hand. It popped off with an audible crack, then shoved it back into Izuku’s hands with a huff.

“There. Try not to lose a limb next time, weakling.” Katsuki scoffs, shoving his hands inside his sweatpants.

Izuku stared down at the bottle in his hands. Then up at Katsuki, who was already turning away.

“That was rude..” he mumbled, mostly to himself.

But then he paused, watching Katsuki’s retreating figure—broad shoulders, steady pace, hands stuffed in his pockets.

“..and nice?” he added, softer this time. His grip on the bottle tightened slightly.

Katsuki didn’t glance back.

But if he had, he might’ve seen the small, confused smile tugging at Izuku’s lips. Or the way he stood still for a moment longer, bottle pressed against his chest, as if unsure of what exactly had just happened.

Izuku ponders for a few seconds as he gulps down the cold water, temporarily cooling down his brain after he’d just spent ungodly hours memorizing neurons for his upcoming exam. Izuku swears he’s seen him around before.

He’d seen him walk out the dorms and go for early morning jogs every time Izuku headed towards the library for studies and he’d seen him walk around lecture halls with hands stuffed in his pockets, earbuds tucked in.

Izuku wasn’t sure what grade he was in, or what major he took, but he was familiar.

A few days later, Izuku was heading back to the dorms after a rough day of classes. A yawned ripped from him, his arms stretched upwards and behind him, quietly trying to comfort the ache in his muscles.

He stops by the same vending machine again and buys a coffee. He throws a yen in and leans down to grab his drink.

He twists, and twists, and twists… and now he’s convinced the caps on the drinks inside these vending machines were intentionally made really difficult to open. That damn vending machine humming like it was laughing at Izuku’s suffering.

Then Izuku heard footsteps behind him.

Katsuki wasn’t even planning to head out that way. But his gym bag felt too heavy on his shoulder and his throat too dry, and he figured a quick stop by the vending machine wouldn’t kill him. What he didn’t expect again was to see him there.

The same green-haired guy from last time. Shoulders hunched, hands gripping the bottle with a familiar, tragic determination.

Katsuki stopped a few centimeters away, narrowed his eyes.

Was this a fucking habit?

“Huh, you again?”

Izuku flinched and turned, then blinked like a deer in the headlights. Again. “Oh. Hi! Uh, you’re the guy from the other day.”

Katsuki crossed his arms. “You seriously still don’t know how to open a damn bottle?”

“No! I mean—yes—I do, I just—this one’s different, I swear! It’s like, extra sealed or something—”

“Sure it is,” Katsuki muttered, already reaching out.

Izuku paused, eyes darting from the bottle in his hand to Katsuki’s outstretched palm. Slowly, reluctantly, he handed it over.

The cap came off with a quick twist. Like butter.

Katsuki held it out. “There.”

Izuku accepted it with both hands, flustered. “Thanks.” Izuku sighed. “You’ve gotta teach me your ways.”

“I just don’t suck.”

Izuku huffed. “That’s debatable.”

Katsuki stared at him for a beat longer this time. The awkward blinking, the hoodie sleeves that hung past his wrists, the way he clutched the water like it was a gift from the gods.

Okay. This was dumb. But also, maybe not? Because this was the second time they’d run into each other, and it felt weird not to at least know the guy’s name. You couldn’t just keep referring to someone as green haired dude who can’t open a bottle properly.

“What the hell’s your name anyway?” he asked suddenly, like it had been bothering him.

Izuku looked up, startled. “Huh?”

“You. Name.” Katsuki repeated, already annoyed. “You got one, or what?”

“Oh! Uh—Izuku. Midoriya Izuku.”

Katsuki blinked once. “Deku.”

Izuku gave him a confused look, eyebrows furrowing and head tilted to the side. He really does look like a deer-in-headlights. “Wait—what? No, I just said—”

“Deku. Works better.”

“That’s not—” Izuku paused mid sentence and ultimately decided to give up, sighing. “Okay, what’s your name?”

Katsuki blinked. “Why should I tell you.”

“Because.. I told you mine!”

“So?”

“W—well, it’s only normal that—“

“I don’t care.”

Izuku was utterly speechless, what was his problem?

“You are so—!”

“Annoying?” Katsuki offered, smirking as he turned to walk away. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

“No! No, no, no—wait! You can’t just leave! What’s your name? Seriously!”

He paused, turned halfway, and looked over his shoulder with a raised brow. “Katsuki. Bakugo Katsuki.”

“Alright then,” Izuku said, lips twitching upward, “Kacchan it is.”

Katsuki stopped dead in his tracks and slowly turned his head back. “The hell?”

“What?” Izuku said innocently, sipping from his hard-earned coffee. “Katsuki. Kacchan. It’s cute.”

“That is not my name.”

“You just said it was.”

“Katsuki is my name,” he growled.

“Kacchan is what I heard.” Izuku shrugged, stifling a laugh.

“You need your ears checked. That’s not my name!” Katsuki shouted.

“Bye, Kacchan!”

He watched as Izuku darted off into the main building, curls bouncing, laughter echoing off the walls.

Katsuki stood there a moment longer, snow settling on his shoulders, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly.

“..fuckin’ nerd.”

That was so fucking weird.

—

The air was sharp that morning—crisp and cold, the kind that stung the inside of your nose if you breathed in too hard. Katsuki barely noticed. He had his hood on, earphones snuck into his ears, his usual playlist thudding low in his ears. Not that he was really listening. His thumb was busy scrolling through messages on his phone, half-reading updates from Kirishima and muting another goddamn study group chat he hadn’t asked to be in.

His shoes thudded dully against the pavement, steady, unbothered. The campus around him was still waking up. A few students shuffled past with their breath fogging in the air, huddled into scarves and jackets. Katsuki didn’t spare them a glance. Except when he saw a couple making out in the middle of the hallway, the girl pushed against the lockers as the guy relentlessly sucked the life out of her.

Katsuki grimaced. Ew.

He looked around. No one paid much attention, just going on with their morning. He holds in a gag and continues walking, half his day already ruined after witnessing that monstrosity.

Katsuki didn’t spare a glance anymore, until something fast and green flashed past the corner of his eye. He looked up just in time to catch a blur of movement on the far end of the quad. Green curls, crooked glasses, arms full of books. Running.

Deku. That freckled-nerdy guy from the gym vending machine.

Katsuki smirked to himself, a quiet scoff slipping through his teeth. The dude looked like he was trying not to drop his entire life on the sidewalk. One notebook was already halfway out of his grip, and his glasses were slipping so far down his nose it was a miracle they stayed on.

“Dumb nerd.” Katsuki muttered under his breath, not without a faint trace of amusement.

He didn’t stop walking. Just kept his pace steady, cut across the path to the east lecture building, and climbed the stairs two at a time. He was early, he always was—but it didn’t matter. Katsuki wasn’t the type to wait around.

When he reached Lecture Hall 3A, he frowned. The doors were shut and some students were loitering just outside, chatting and looking confused. Someone muttered something about a room change.

“What the hell?” Katsuki tugged an earbud out.

“They said it’s being used for the international seminar thing,” one girl nearby was explaining to her friend. “we’re in Hall 2C for the rest of the day.”

Tch. Great.

Katsuki turned without a word and headed toward the west wing. He didn’t rush that much, just readjusted his backpack, shoved his hands in his pocket, and let his feet carry him down the familiar hallway, glancing once at the class schedule on his phone.

It wasn’t until he stepped into Lecture Hall 2C that he saw him again.

Same tousled curls, same oversized sweater and a ridiculous amount of notes spread across the desk like he was preparing for the apocalypse. He was seated in the middle rows, frantically flipping through a textbook, brow furrowed like the fate of the world depended on whatever sentence he was reading.

So that’s why he was running, Katsuki thought.

He considered it for a moment, just a beat too long, before shrugging and heading up a few steps to sit two rows behind him.

He dropped into the seat, bag thudding next to his boots, arms crossed as he leaned back. It wasn’t intentional. He didn’t sit there because of him. It was just a good spot, neutral and clear view. Nothing weird. But then the lecture hadn’t even started yet, and Katsuki’s gaze had already drifted forward again.

Deku shifted in his seat, one knee bouncing. He rubbed at his glasses and scribbled something quickly. His head tilted slightly as he read, lips moving as he mouthed through lines of text.

Katsuki scoffed softly and looked down, pulling out a pen and flipped open his own notebook.

But a minute later, his eyes flicked up again.

Something about the guy. The way he concentrated. The way he hunched over his work like he was trying to fold himself into it. The way his green curls caught the soft light from the windows.

Katsuki flicks his tongue, stretching his hand up and resting his chin against his palm as he diverted his gaze towards the windows instead.

Soon, the lecture rolled on.

Katsuki settled into it. Well, as much as he ever settled into anything academic. His notes were neat, efficient, scrawled in sharp strokes as he tracked the professor’s pacing without missing a beat. Despite the shift in lecture hall, he found his rhythm quickly. He always did. Focus had never been his problem.

And Izuku, for all his earlier chaos, was quiet now. No muttering. No frantic shuffling. Just a steady flow of pen to paper, his head tilted at an angle that showed his interest in the lecture.

Katsuki glanced up once or twice.

He didn’t even realize he was doing it. Just short, automatic flicks of his eyes, checking in like he was tracking something.

Tch. Dumb.

By the time class wrapped up, Katsuki was already halfway through capping his pen, slinging his bag over one shoulder. He stood with a practiced motion and made his way toward the stairs, eyes on the aisle ahead.

He moved quickly, weaving past the clusters of students still packing up or asking last-minute questions All he wants right now is the clean break from focus to freedom, a hot lunch and a few reps at the gym after the rest of his classes are over.

Until someone collided into his side with a surprised gasp and a muttered, “Crap—!”

Katsuki’s reflexes kicked in instantly, catching the weight before it could fully crash into him. A stack of papers fluttered to the floor, and a green blur stumbled back, winded.

“Sorry! I didn’t see—” Izuku blinked up at him, flustered, cheeks pink from embarrassment, glasses slightly askew on his nose. “Oh! Kacchan!”

Katsuki raised a brow from the nickname, he’s seriously sticking with that shitty nickname? Frowning, he steadied him with one firm hand before letting go. “You always this clumsy?”

Izuku’s ears turned red. “I—it was an accident!” He crouched to grab his fallen papers, muttering something under his breath that Katsuki didn’t quite catch, though the flustered look on his face said enough.

Izuku straightened his glasses, his cheeks a little pink from the stumble, but his smile was still there. “Wait, you’re in this class too? I didn’t think we had any classes together.” Izuku said, breath catching slightly like he was surprised and.. excited?

“Thought you were an upperclassman.” Izuku admitted as he stood, holding his notes awkwardly against his chest.

Katsuki scoffed. “You tryna call me old, nerd?”

“No! No—just—uh. Mature!” Izuku stammered, clearly digging his grave deeper. “What major do you take?”

“Biochem.” He stated proudly, “bet you’re a med student or some shit.” Katsuki huffs.

Izuku gasped, a hand pulled up to his mouth has his lips turned upwards. “You’re right, Kacchan!” He laughs softly, tilting his glasses up. “How’d you know?”

“I don’t. It was a lucky guess.” Katsuki shrugged.

Before either of them could say anything else, a familiar voice rang out across the hallway.

“Yo, Bakugou!” Kirishima jogged over, waving. “You done with lecture already?”

Katsuki glanced sideways, instinctively stepping a little away from Izuku as Kirishima approached.

Izuku propped up and grinned, like a puppy being rewarded with a treat. “Oh, hi, Kirishima!”

“Oh hey, Midoriya! Didn’t know you had Biochem around this time too.”

“We had a lecture room switch today,” Izuku explained, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Guess fate wanted me to run into Kacchan.”

Katsuki clicked his tongue but didn’t argue. The name didn’t bother him as much as it should’ve anymore.

Kirishima looked between them, grinning. “You guys know each other?”

“Sort of!” Izuku replied with a little shrug, glancing up at Katsuki. “He opened a water bottle for me last week. Very heroic.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes. “You make it sound like I saved your damn life.”

“You might have.” Izuku teased, then bit the inside of his cheek when he saw Katsuki glance away with the tiniest twitch of a smile.

Kirishima laughed, clapping Katsuki on the back. “Come on, man. Let’s get lunch. See you later, Midoriya!”

“Yup!” Izuku nodded with a smile, raising a hand to wave goodbye to them as Kirishima drags the blond with him.

Kirishima and Katsuki then made their way to get lunch. The cafeteria was loud. Trays clattered, voices echoed, and the noisy hum of campus life filled the space like static. Katsuki moved through the line quickly, barely glancing at the options before grabbing something protein-heavy and heading to their usual spot by the far window—less foot traffic, fewer chances of being bothered.

Kirishima trailed behind him, plopping his tray down with a heavy thunk and already digging into his rice with that same unshakable grin.

“So,” Kirishima said, through a mouthful of food. “you and Midoriya, huh?”

Katsuki paused, only halfway into unwrapping his chopsticks. His eyes narrowed. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Kirishima raised his hands, all innocent-like, chopsticks still between his fingers. “Relax, dude. I just meant, he seemed happy to see you. Didn’t know you two were friends.”

“We’re not.” Katsuki said flatly.

Kirishima tilted his head.

Katsuki clicked his tongue. “We’ve talked a few times.”

“Mmhmm,” Kirishima hummed. “Seems like more than a few. He called you Kacchan, dude. And you called him Deku.”

Katsuki stabbed his chopsticks into his food. “Deku. Means useless.”

Kirishima let out a confused sound.

“And he just started calling me that since day one. Wouldn’t shut up even when I told him not to.”

“But you let him keep doing it, you don’t let anyone give you a nickname.” Kirishima pointed out, grinning wider now. “And why Deku? That seems a bit rude.”

Katsuki didn’t look up. “Outside the gym, couple days ago. He couldn’t open a damn water bottle.” He huffed, chomping down on the chicken katsu.

Kirishima blinked. “What?”

“I was comin’ back from the gym,” Katsuki muttered, scratching the back of his neck like the memory physically itched. “he was standing there, trying to twist the cap off like he was performing surgery. It was pathetic.”

“And you helped him?”

Katsuki shot him a look. “He asked for my help. What, you think I just left him there struggling like an idiot?”

Kirishima laughed. “Honestly? I kind of thought that’s exactly what you did.”

“I’m not that heartless,” Katsuki grumbled. “I just opened it and left. He said thanks. End of story.”

“Except now he’s calling you Kacchan and smiling at you like you gave him a kidney,” Kirishima said, amused.

Katsuki scowled. “He’s just friendly. He’s probably like that with everyone.”

Kirishima gave him a look, and Katsuki shifted in his seat.

Kirishima chewed thoughtfully for a few seconds, then pointed his chopsticks at Katsuki. “Y’know, I met Izuku on my first day. Dude’s really sweet. He always says hi, asks how your day’s going, remembers the smallest things like if you had a test or if your ankle still hurt from training the other day.”

Katsuki didn’t look up and kept chewing.

“He’s just.. thoughtful like that,” Kirishima added with a shrug. “Doesn’t feel fake either. Like, I dunno, some people try too hard? But with him, it’s just how he is.”

“Tch,” Katsuki grunted, stabbing a piece of meat. “doesn’t mean anything.”

Kirishima leaned on his elbow, grin stretching wider. “Nah, but it’s rare. I think that kind of kindness is something people remember. Like, there was this one time I dropped my entire bag of flashcards in the courtyard, just exploded everywhere and he ran over to help me pick them up, even though he was clearly running late. Didn’t even hesitate.”

Katsuki’s brows pulled together. He didn’t say anything, but Kirishima caught the way his expression changed slightly.

“And then he asked me if I wanted his extra print-out of the lecture notes, because mine got stepped on,” Kirishima said with a soft laugh. “said something like ‘it’s okay, I already memorized them.’ Like, dude’s a genius and a saint.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes. “You’re makin’ him sound like a damn fairy tale character.”

“Maybe he is!” Kirishima said brightly. “C’mon, you gotta admit it. He’s cute. Friendly. Total golden retriever energy.”

Katsuki didn’t answer.

Kirishima leaned forward. “So? What’s it like talking to him?”

Katsuki shifted in his seat, arms crossing defensively. “He’s easy to talk to.”

Kirishima blinked. “Wait, really?”

Katsuki narrowed his eyes. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“I just—y’know, you don’t usually talk to people unless you have to,” Kirishima said, raising his hands in surrender.

There was a pause.

Katsuki’s voice was quieter now. “He doesn’t talk to me like he’s scared of me. Doesn’t kiss my ass. Doesn’t overthink everything. Just talks.”

“Okay,” Kirishima said, not pushing, just smiling knowingly. “I think you’ve got a good shot.”

Katsuki glanced up sharply. “What?”

“He seems to like you, y’know,” Kirishima said with a shrug. “I mean, who the hell calls someone Kacchan unless they’re comfortable with them? And that look on his face when you helped him earlier? That wasn’t nothing.”

Katsuki glared at him, shoving Kirishima’s feet under the table, a laugh bubbling out of his throat. The red haired nudged him again, smirking. “So, what’s next? You gonna help him open all his water bottles now?”

“Keep talkin’ and I’m shoving yours down your throat.” Katsuki growled.

But even as Kirishima laughed, Katsuki didn’t deny it.

The next day, Katsuki hits the gym at 5pm sharp, like he does every other weekend. He decides to stop by the café next door to chill for a bit.

The café was warm, the air sweet with espresso and cinnamon and he notices it’s a bit more packed than usual. Katsuki sat tucked into a booth at the far corner, earbuds in, damp hair still a little messy from the shower after his gym session. His black hoodie clung to his frame, sleeves pushed to his elbows, forearms folded as he scrolled through his phone. His water glass sat half-finished beside him.

The café was warm, the air sweet with espresso and cinnamon and he notices it’s a bit more packed than usual. Katsuki sat tucked into a booth at the far corner, earbuds in, damp hair still a little messy from the shower after his gym session. His black hoodie clung to his frame, sleeves pushed to his elbows, forearms folded as he scrolled through his phone. His water glass sat half-finished beside him.

He wasn’t paying attention to anything, really. Just scrolling to scroll. Letting the noise settle around him, until he caught a flicker of green. Of course it was that nerd again. Why do they keep meeting by accident?

There in the middle of the café, standing just past the counter with windblown hair and papers clutched like a shield, was Izuku. His cheeks were flushed, probably from the cold. Mouth parted in confusion as he scanned the room, clearly realizing there were no empty seats. His eyes dimmed just a little, a pout appearing on his lips and he turned like he was about to leave.

Katsuki clicked his tongue as he tore the paper straw wrapper he’d been twisting between his fingers.

“Oi.” he called out, loud enough to carry.

Izuku stopped like he’d been physically struck. His eyes snapped over, startled. His eyes widened as his pout turned into a grin.

Katsuki lifted his head, exasperated. “What, you blind? Sit the hell down.”

Izuku blinked, gesturing at the booth. “Wait—here? With you?”

“No, with Santa Claus. Yeah, here, dumbass.”

He slid in beside Katsuki, notes clutched to his chest, and murmured, “Thanks, Kacchan.” like it meant more than it should. Izuku places down his laptop, books and notes, as if he’s preparing for war. “Do you come here a lot?”

Katsuki shrugged. “Sometimes. After gym.”

“Right,” Izuku nodded, then glanced at the glass. “That explains it. You always work out around this time?”

“Why? Gonna start stalking me?”

“What—no!” Izuku flailed slightly, nearly elbowing his notes off the table. “I was just making conversation!”

Katsuki smirked, leaning back in the booth. “You’re bad at it.”

“I’m trying!” Izuku groaned, sinking into his hoodie. “I didn’t expect to run into you.”

Katsuki sips on his drink, “you always carry that many notes?” he muttered, side-eyeing the mess Izuku had dumped on the table.

Izuku huffed, organizing them into messy stacks. “These are just for this week. I’ve got more back at the dorm.”

Katsuki almost gawked, “Jesus.”

“I like being prepared.” Izuku beamed at him.

“You’re gonna give yourself arthritis before twenty-five.”

“And you’re gonna combust from too much protein powder.”

“The hell did I ever do to you?”

Izuku leaned back a little, finally letting himself breathe now that he had a seat. “You told me to sit. That was nice.”

“Tch. You looked sad.”

Izuku grinned down at his notes. “So you took pity on me.”

“Don’t push it.” Katsuki leaned back in the booth, arms crossed again, gaze drifting lazily over Izuku’s scattered notes. “So. Med student, huh?”

Izuku nodded. “Yeah. I’ve always wanted to. I mean, ever since I was a kid. I’ve always liked helping people. I think I just never grew out of that.”

Katsuki watched him for a second. There was something sincere in that answer—soft and unpolished. He looked away. “Figures.”

Izuku then decided to get an iced coffee, double shot espresso. Katsuki couldn’t say he was surprised. The green haired was still hunched slightly over the table, nursing his drink with both hands, and Katsuki had his arms crossed, leaning back in the booth, legs spread just enough to take up too much space but not enough that Izuku moved away. Not that Katsuki minded. Or noticed.

“Sooo,” Izuku said between sips, glancing out the window beside them, “have you noticed that couple that keeps making out near the vending machines by the lecture halls?”

Katsuki muttered. “He’s always tryin’ to fuck her up against the wall.”

Izuku choked on his drink. “Kacchan!”

“What?” Katsuki raised an eyebrow.

“I mean—yeah,” Izuku admitted sheepishly. “they don’t even stop when people stare..”

Katsuki scoffed. “I want to fucking incinerate them.”

Izuku laughed, eyes crinkling at the edges. “Please don’t. That’s frowned upon.”

“They’re on thin ice,” Katsuki said darkly, then added, “disgusting motherfuckers.”

Izuku nodded in agreement. “I keep getting second-hand embarrassment. And I’m not even part of the situation.”

“Exactly.” Katsuki gave a small huff. 

Izuku snorted again, “Never thought I’d hear you sound like such a serious student.”

“Oi.” Katsuki gave him a look. “Just because I’m not yellin’ about molecules every ten seconds doesn’t mean I don’t give a damn.”

“I don’t yell.”

“Shut up.”

Izuku opened his mouth, then paused. “..okay.” He said with a playful sigh.

Katsuki smirked into his cup, then looked down at Izuku’s notes, now halfway covered in doodles.

“You always this much of a mess?” he asked.

Izuku blinked. “Mess?”

Katsuki tapped the table once. “You’ve got six pens, two highlighters, and none of them match. You’re drinking double shot iced coffee at 5:30 in the afternoon, and your notes are—what even is that? A bunny?”

“It helps me remember.” Izuku pointed defensively. “That’s for AV node conduction. It’s hopping.”

Katsuki laughed. A real laugh this time—brief and sharp, catching Izuku off guard. “God, you’re such a nerd.” Katsuki muttered, but the insult was barely there.

Izuku grinned. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. How’d you end up in Biochem anyway? You don’t seem like the type who wants to spend hours memorizing metabolic pathways.”

Katsuki leaned back again. “Didn’t have a choice. Needed a strong background for my field.”

“Oh? What field?”

Katsuki’s eyes narrowed playfully. “You ask a lot of questions, nerd.”

“I’m curious!”

“You sound like my mom.”

Izuku snorted. “Okay, fine. What don’t you like?”

Katsuki didn’t miss a beat. “Group projects.”

Izuku laughed. “Agreed. It’s always the same thing, two people carrying everyone else.”

“Exactly.” Katsuki grunted. “And I always end up being the one carrying.”

Izuku gave him a teasing look. “Really? I feel like I’m the one always staying up late editing the PowerPoint.”

“You probably stay up late because you like to make it pretty.”

“I stay up late because I care!”

“Whatever.” Katsuki muttered, breaking the silence. “Go back to studying before I regret lettin’ you sit here.”

Izuku smiled, heart light and warm. “Fiiine.”

The café noise settled into a low hum around them, a mix of clinking cups and hushed conversation. Izuku had started rambling again, not nervously this time, just energetically. His hands moved as much as his mouth did, papers spread between their drinks like a battlefield. Case study questions, symptom charts, diagnostic diagrams. Katsuki barely had space for his damn elbow.

“Okay, so I’m still getting confused between AV block types, like, I get the first-degree one, but when you get into Mobitz Type I versus Type II, my brain just shuts down. It’s stupid, right? Because they’re both second-degree, but one of them drops a beat after gradually lengthening PR intervals, and the other just drops randomly and I swear it makes sense in my head but then I get to the practice question and—”

“You’re overthinking it.” Katsuki muttered, tapping a pen against his knuckles. “Mobitz I is the predictable one. Like countdown. Gradual lengthening, then skip. Type II’s the asshole. Looks fine, then drops a beat out of nowhere.”

Izuku blinked. “Oh. Oh wait, that actually.. makes sense.”

Katsuki raised an eyebrow. “‘Course it does. I explained it.”

Izuku beamed. “You’re really good at this. Wait, don’t you take Biochem?”

Katsuki shrugged. “Did a collab project with med students on drug metabolism and got exposed to more clinical content. Plus, ’m not a dumbass.”

“You know most people struggle with this stuff, right?”

Katsuki leaned back slightly, arms crossed. “Most people aren’t me.”

Izuku bit back a smile, flipping through another sheet. “Thanks, Kacchan.”

“Stop saying that like it’s a big deal.” Katsuki muttered. “You’re the one who dragged out an entire forest of paper and dumped it on the table.”

Izuku laughed softly. “I just didn’t expect you to actually help.”

“Yeah, well,” Katsuki shifted, pretending to be annoyed, “don’t make a habit out of it.”

But Izuku was already back to scribbling notes, the corner of his mouth twitching in a way Katsuki absolutely noticed.

Izuku shifted in his seat as he organized his notes for the fifth time. Katsuki watched him out of the corner of his eye, sipping his drink.

“You know,” Katsuki said eventually, “you might actually study faster if you didn’t narrate your entire internal monologue.”

Izuku looked at him. “Huh?”

“You’ve been muttering for the past ten minutes,” Katsuki said, glancing flatly at the growing stack of flashcards between them. “Sound like you’re fightin’ for your life over there.”

“I’m rehearsing,” Izuku stated defensively. “auditory recall, actually. Some people retain better by hearing themselves talk.”

Katsuki raised a brow. “And I’m supposed to suffer through that for the next hour?”

Izuku huffed, but it was light. “You’re the one who let me sit here.”

“Tch. Don’t remind me.”

Izuku giggled and returned to his mess of notes. There was a beat of silence, just the clatter of cups behind the counter and a faint hum of conversation from the other tables. It took about twenty minutes of steady correction before Izuku started breezing through flashcards without help. His rambling slowed. His posture straightened. There was a rhythm to the way he flipped through the next case file, a confidence that wasn’t there earlier.

Eventually, he stretched his arms above his head with a yawn. “Alright. I’m done. My brain’s fried.”

Izuku looked up from his notes, “really?”

“Yeah,” Katsuki said, already reaching for his bag. “I’ve done my good deed for the day and I cannot handle another second of your damn mumbling.”

Izuku laughed, knowing Katsuki was just joking. “Okay! Well, thank you again. Really. I mean it, Kacchan.”

“Whatever.”

Izuku stretched his arms above his head, smiling in that honest, easy way that Katsuki wasn’t used to having directed at him. “You’re really smart, you know that? You explain things better than half my TAs.”

“Yeah probably.” He shrugged.

Izuku tilted his head. “We should study together again sometime.”

Katsuki looked up at that and Izuku stood there expectantly, no hidden meaning in his voice, just plain and simple: I liked spending time with you.

“I mean only if you want to! You don’t have to—”

“Tch.” Katsuki swung his bag over his shoulder. “Don’t make it weird.”

Izuku laughed quietly, his shoulders relaxing.

Katsuki stood up and exited the booth, heading towards the door and lifting a hand lazily in a half-wave. “Later, dumb Deku.”

Izuku grinned at his back. “Bye, Kacchan.”

And once Katsuki stepped outside, into the chill of early evening, he found himself walking a little slower than usual.

A next time, huh.

—

It was late afternoon when Izuku stepped into the campus library, arms full of notes, two textbooks and a laptop inside his bag that felt like they weighed way too heavy. His curls were messier than usual, his hoodie was slightly damp from the unexpected drizzle outside, and he looked like he’d lost a fight with an enzyme.

The library was quieter than usual, maybe because the exam for their shared elective was tomorrow. Students had claimed corners and nooks, most seats already full, laptop screens glowing blue in the dim light. Izuku sighed, shifting his books to the other arm as he scanned the room.

And then he spotted a familiar figure.

Back corner. Window seat. One arm slung over the back of his seat, the other flipping a page in a textbook with ease. Katsuki, slouched like he owned the place, as if studying was just another enemy to dominate.

He looked like he didn’t want to be spoken to.

So of course, Izuku sat right next to him.

“Hey, Kacchan!” he whispered with the kind of whisper that wasn’t a whisper at all, more like a nervous stage whisper accompanied by the crashing of books being dropped on the table. “I didn’t know you studied here too.”

Katsuki didn’t even look up. “I was here first.”

“There were no other seats!” Izuku replied quickly, laughing under his breath as he slid into the seat beside him. “Didn’t mean to intrude.”

“You’re literally intruding.”

“I can leave—”

“Sit down, damn nerd.”

Izuku blinked, half-smiling, then slowly took out his pencil case and notebooks. He pulled his sleeves over his palms. “Thanks, Kacchan.”

They both worked in silence for a few minutes. The sound of pens scribbling, pages flipping. Izuku kept glancing at his notes, face pinched in frustration.

Katsuki finally growled low in his throat. “You keep fidgeting like that and I’m gonna throw your damn highlighters out the window.”

“I’m not fidgeting!” Izuku said, mid-fidget. He exhaled and tapped the paper. “I just.. I don’t get this part. The way inhibitor models work when it comes to enzyme saturation, it’s like I’m missing something obvious.”

Katsuki glanced over, eyes skimming the notes. “Because you are missing something obvious.”

Izuku leaned in, eyes curious. “Can you explain?”

Katsuki let out a sigh like he was preparing to carry the world on his back. “Okay, first of all—why are you even trying to compare Vmax between a competitive and noncompetitive inhibitor beforeyou isolate substrate concentration?”

“I—I thought I was supposed to look at Lineweaver-Burk first?”

“Jesus.” Katsuki muttered, dragging his notebook over. “No. Look, here.” He drew two axes fast, like muscle memory, already scribbling out the curves. “In competitive inhibition, the inhibitor binds to the active site. The site, damn Deku. So if you throw enough substrate at it, it’ll be overridden. That’s why the Vmax stays the same. The only thing that changes is Km.”

Izuku’s eyes were trained on the drawing, then back at Katsuki’s face, nodding. “Right.. right, that makes sense. So it’s like crowding the entry gate, but the crowd clears if you wait long enough—”

“Exactly. But noncompetitive inhibitors are different—”

“—they bind somewhere else.”

“Yeah. They mess with the enzyme’s shape, which means even if there’s a ton of substrate, it doesn’t matter. That’s why Vmax drops, dumbass. Km might not change, but your overall rate is fucked.”

Izuku blinked slowly, then started smiling. “Wow. That actually made sense.”

Katsuki scoffed. “Were you even paying attention in class?”

“They just never explained it like that,” Izuku said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “It’s easier when you say it.”

“Of course it is.”

Izuku looked down at the drawing again, lips twitching upward. “You’re really good at this. Like, really good.”

Katsuki narrowed his eyes.

“You look like you’d punch enzymes in the face, not explain their inhibition pathways.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes. “I would punch enzymes if I could.“

“Okay, okay,” Izuku laughed. “same.”

Katsuki glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. That dumb smile. The way his eyes lit up when he finally understood something. It’s annoying Katsuki in some way.

“Tch.”

Katsuki returned to his notes as Izuku was reduced to a mumbling mess, muttering theories and enzyme paths under his breath. Katsuki is way too immersed in getting the highest score yet again to care.

He thinks he’s doing good. His focus is steady and he’s going through his notes quicker than he thought he would. Until this one question that has Katsuki slightly scratching the side of his head, brows furrowing as he fiddled with the pencil on his hand, eyes boring onto his paper as if he wishes it could just burn to ashes.

Izuku hears Katsuki clicking his tongue multiple times and louder scribbling. Eventually, he leaned over.

“You stuck?”

“No.”

“You’ve been on the same question for like 10 minutes.”

“Mind your own business.”

Izuku ignored him, then tilted his head to read Katsuki’s paper. “Ohhh. Yeah, this one’s tricky. It’s the one with the reversed kinetic outputs, right?”

Katsuki glared. “Did I ask for help?”

“No, but I’m giving it anyway.”

He snatched the paper gently from under Katsuki’s hand and flipped his own notebook open

“Oi—!”

Katsuki clicked his tongue, but let him.

“So,” Izuku said, already scribbling. “this table’s intentionally misleading. It throws in an anomaly at time mark 3. That’s what’s tripping you up. The trick is to look at the change between intervals, not the isolated spike.”

Katsuki watched him work, eyes flicking between the notes and the curve Izuku was sketching out. His handwriting was a mess of loops and arrows, but his explanation was sharp. Precise. Focused.

“See?” Izuku pushed the notebook toward him. “Ignore that one spike and follow the reaction rate here instead, linear if you plot it logarithmically.”

Katsuki squinted. “Logarithmically?”

“Yeah, like here.” Izuku pulled out his calculator and showed him the shift. “Once you take the log, the inconsistencies level out. Makes it easier to apply the equation from there.”

Katsuki stared for a second longer, then grumbled, “alright.”

Izuku leaned back, pleased. “Told you.”

“Don’t get cocky.”

“I’m not!” he said with a grin, raising his hands to indicator a surrender. “I’m just good at it.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes and picked up his pen again, copying the steps with short, sharp strokes.

They studied in silence for a while. But it wasn’t stiff, not quite, just full of rustling pages, the occasional frustrated sigh, and Izuku’s breathy muttering as he read under his breath. Katsuki was still intense, focused to a fault, but occasionally he’d glance at Izuku’s notebook like he was double-checking his own logic.

Izuku was good at this.

Annoyingly good.

“You study like a damn machine,” Katsuki said, after the third time Izuku rattled off a whole reaction pathway without checking his notes.

“I do not!” Izuku replied, flushed. “I just study a lot. That’s all.”

Katsuki huffed. “Whatever.”

Katsuki then strangely found himself watching the way Izuku spoke. The way his eyes moved when he was thinking. The way his hands moved when he was explaining something. The way he chewed on the edge of his pen cap, completely unaware of how annoying it was.

Focus, dumbass.

He looked down again, scrawled a note, and then Izuku leaned in too far and their arms brushed again, this time from elbow to wrist.

Izuku didn’t even seem to register it. But Katsuki did.

The fuck? He couldn’t stop noticing things.

He grit his teeth, turning back to the problem. “You gonna quiz me or what?”

Izuku blinked up, smiling sheepishly. “Right. Sorry. Got distracted.”

Izuku tapped his pen against the notebook. “Okay, what’s the rate-limiting enzyme for glycolysis?”

Katsuki rolled his eyes. “Phosphofructokinase. Easy.”

“Nice. See? You’ve got this,” Izuku said, bumping his shoulder against Katsuki’s in approval.

Katsuki notices it again and Izuku just kept talking. Then he nudges Katsuki with his elbow. The blonde stiffened and looked over.

“Do you think Professor Fushiwara knows we can all tell when she’s hungover?” Izuku asked suddenly, voice low, lips barely moving.

Katsuki raised one of his brows. “Hah?”

“You know, when she comes in with sunglasses, carrying that iced coffee?”

Katsuki blinked, then huffed a single amused breath. “You think she’s hungover?”

“I know she is!” Izuku replied, eyes wide with mischief. “Last week she wrote the same equation three times on the board and then blamed the marker.”

Katsuki snorted. “I thought she was just stupid.”

“She’s got a PhD.”

“In what? Confusing the shit out of us?”

Izuku choked on a laugh, slapping a hand over his mouth.

“Don’t laugh so loud, dumbass,” Katsuki hissed, jabbing him lightly in the arm.

Izuku jolted from the touch, accidentally knocking his knee into Katsuki’s under the table. Katsuki told himself he’d shift away, create space, make it less noticeable.

But he didn’t. None of them moved actually. They just stayed there, side by side, pressed leg to leg, warmth radiating through layers of sweats.

Katsuki’s grip tightened slightly around his pen.

What the hell.

He was too aware of everything. Of the quiet hush of Izuku’s voice when he got focused. Of the way his sighs are long and drawn out. Of the way his damn pen was smeared with bite marks from being chewed on. Gross.

Their elbows brushed next when they leaned in at the same time, and again, no one moved away.

Katsuki grunted softly, more to himself than anyone. Shit.

This nerd’s getting too fucking comfortable.

They end up studying together for longer than expected, Katsuki slowly but surely settling into the new comfort of Izuku’s mumbling, silent fidgeting and complaints— not that he would admit it obviously. Though he did still find it annoying.

And Izuku actually enjoys studying with Katsuki. It’s focused, grounding, and unexpectedly comforting. Katsuki’s blunt but helpful approach keeps Izuku steady, and Izuku finds himself drawn to the quiet moments between them, the casual touches, and Katsuki’s steady presence.

—

Few days passed and Katsuki hadn’t shared much lectures with Izuku. When they do, they’re both too busy or too much in a hurry to strike up and actual conversation. However, Katsuki couldn’t help but notice that Izuku seemed to be looking shittier with each passing day. Still, he didn’t care enough to ask what was up with him.

The lecture hall buzzed faintly with low conversation and the crinkle of notebooks flipping open. Soft afternoon light filtered through the high windows. Izuku felt the familiar ache in his limbs, a result of sleepless nights and too much caffeine.

Izuku rubbed at one eye discreetly, clutching his notes in the other hand. There were faint, gray-ish shadows blooming under his eyes like bruised petals. His hoodie sat awkwardly on one shoulder, his hair a little more unruly than usual.

“Izuku!” Ochako’s voice cut through the haze, soft but concerned.

He blinked over at her. “Hey, Ochako. Good morning.”

She frowned, her brows knitting. “Are you okay? You look like you got hit by a truck.”

“I’m fine, just—” Izuku waved her off with a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his neck. “been studying a little extra lately.”

Before she could respond, the door creaked open again. Katsuki walked in like he always did, spine straight, eyes sharp, and the usual scowl worn across his face. He was in a dark hoodie today, sleeves pushed up to his forearms, jaw set like usual.

He moved through the aisle, brushing past Izuku just enough to make their shoulders bump.

“Watch it, nerd.” he muttered, though there was no real bite to it.

Izuku’s eyes widened slightly, surprised. “O-Oh. Sorry, Kacchan.”

Katsuki turned, just slightly, and gave Izuku a look, subtle, but not unnoticed. His eyes flicked from the tips of his toes to the slope of his cheeks, settling briefly on the shadows beneath his eyes.

“Tch. You look like shit.”

Izuku smiled. “Thanks.”

And then he walked away, dropping into a seat a few rows behind them like nothing had happened.

Ochako’s mouth dropped open. “That was rude!”

Izuku just smiled softly, eyes crinkling at the corner. “That’s just how he is.” He shrugged, sitting down as he let his bag gently hit the floor, pouring his notes and pencil case all over the desk.

“Still rude,” she huffed, crossing her arms, following Izuku and slipping in beside him.

Izuku laughed under his breath, resting his chin on his hand. “He’s actually really nice. In his own way.”

“Where’d you meet him? Who was he anyways? And Kacchan?” Ochako asked, voice laced with curiosity and slightly tinted with a teasing tone.

“I met him infront of the gym, he helped me open a water bottle,” Izuku explained. “I told him my name, and he was like ‘Deku’, wouldn’t give it up. So I gave him a nickname too.”

Ochako gawked. “But Kacchan? That’s like so intimate.” She teased with a growing smirk.

Izuku groaned, covering his face with his hands, “it’s not! It’s the first thing that came to mind! And he doesn’t seem to mind too, so..”

Ochako snickers, nudging Izuku with her elbow. “Gee, I wonder why.”

The professor walked in and shushed everyone down. Izuku and Ochako quickly settled into the lecture. Izuku’s eyes ringed with fatigue, glasses sliding low on the bridge of his nose, and his curls messier than usual, like he’d fallen asleep on them a few minutes prior.

Katsuki let his gaze linger, just for a moment, before turning his attention back to the front. But even then, his eyes kept drifting.

Dumb nerd probably stayed up all night again. He scowled to himself.

Katsuki cast another glance over his way. Izuku was slumped forward, cheek squished into his palm, blinking hard like he was trying to will himself into wakefulness. His pen dangled loosely between his fingers, his notes an increasingly messy scrawl.

It annoyed the shit out of him.

Not because Izuku was being slow. But because it was so him. Always overworking, overthinking, pushing himself past the edge and pretending it was fine. Even after only knowing the nerd for a week or two, he’d recognized that Izuku were those types of students. Always doing too much and neglecting self care.

He clicked his tongue and looked back at the board. Midway through the lecture, he heard Izuku’s pen clatter to the floor.

There was a delayed shuffle as Izuku ducked beneath the desk to grab it. When he resurfaced, his glasses were even more crooked, and his hair stood up in five new directions.

Jesus Christ, Katsuki thought.

Katsuki forced his gaze back towards the professor, he’d needed to get the hang of himself. There was a quiz coming up regarding this specific material and he wants to be the one to perfectly ace it. But overtime, he can’t help stealing soft glances at green, messy curls sitting two rows in front of him.

Tch, ‘s not like I care.

But when the lecture ended, he was the last one to pack up his stuff.

And as Izuku shuffled out of the hall with Ochako at his side, laughing softly about god-knows-what, Katsuki stayed seated. Watching the sway of green curls disappear through the door.

He didn’t even realize he was standing at the vending machine until the damn thing blinked at him. His fists shoved deep into his pockets, pretending he didn’t already know what he was doing.

He stared at the rows of drinks without really seeing them—just the soft humming of the machine. His reflection looked back at him, faint and crooked in the plexiglass. He jammed in a few coins. Pressed a button. The machine clanked, whirred, and spat out a small orange box with a cheerful cartoon sun smiling on it.

It was ridiculous. Definitely not something he’d be caught dead drinking. Too sweet. Too childish.

He snatched it up before he could change his mind and stomped out of the hallway like the drink had personally insulted him. He spotted green hair just outside the lecture building. Ochako was saying something, her voice lilting in that friendly, soft way of hers, and Izuku nodded along, pushing his glasses up with his knuckle, blinking tiredly.

Without breaking stride, Katsuki walked past them—and then, suddenly, turned back.

“Oi.”

They both looked up. Izuku blinked. “Kacchan?”

Katsuki didn’t say a word. Just tossed the juice box straight at his chest. Izuku fumbled, catching it with both hands like it was something fragile.

“Huh—?”

“You look like you’re about to pass out,” Katsuki muttered. “drink somethin’.”

Izuku stared down at the little box, then up at Katsuki, eyes wide. “Is this for me?”

“No,” Katsuki deadpanned. “It’s for your imaginary friend. Of course it’s for you.”

He turned to walk away.

Behind him, Ochako raised an eyebrow. “That was weirdly, meanly thoughtful.”

Izuku blinked down at the box again, like it was made of gold.

“Yeah..” he murmured, voice soft.

Katsuki shoved his hands deeper into his jacket pockets and stalked across the pavement, there was a strange, unfamiliar warmth crawling up the back of his neck.

Dumbass.

The juice box sat in Izuku’s hands like a bomb with a ribbon on it.

Bright orange. Slightly crumpled. Still cold from the vending machine. It smelled like synthetic citrus and something faintly nostalgic—like recess breaks in primary school, when things were simpler and exams didn’t have you pulling all-nighters.

Izuku stared at it.

“He gave you a juice box,” Ochako smirked, “Kacchan gave you a juice box.”

Izuku glanced up from his hands, face already warms, stammering. “It wasn’t—like—he just said I looked like shit!”

Ochako snorted. “Which, for him, probably translates to ‘you looked like you needed someone to take care of you.’”

“It’s not—!”

“And yet, here you are,” she said, lips twitching, “holding it like it’s sacred.”

Izuku flushed a deeper shade of pink and immediately loosened his grip like he’d been caught. “I’m not! I just—it surprised me, that’s all. I mean, I didn’t even think he was paying attention!”

There was a beat of silence between them. Then, softly:

“I think he likes you.”

Izuku’s stomach did something awful and fluttery.

“Wha—no,” he said quickly, clutching the juice box tighter again like it might anchor him. “He doesn’t—Kacchan doesn’t—that’s just how he is. I’ve just.. adjusted to it.”

Ochako raised her brows. “Okay, fine. So he’s his usual rude, explosive self. But you don’t just accidentally buy someone a juice box because you don’t care.”

Izuku sputtered, “He probably just had an extra coin in his pocket!”

“Oh my gooood.” she groaned, dramatic, falling forward onto the desk with a thump. “You’re so in denial.”

“I am not!” Izuku whispered, horrified.

“Then why are your ears red, Izuku?”

He slapped a hand over them instantly. “It’s not!”

Ochako broke into laughter, full and bright and a little too pleased with herself. Izuku tried to hide behind his sleeve, but it was no use. His cheeks were too warm. His heart was too loud.

Katsuki had noticed. Had cared, in his weird, brash way. And for some reason, that small, stupid act, the toss of a juice box, meant more than anything else today. He looked down at it again. The condensation had made the label a little damp, but the straw was still perfectly sealed.

For a moment, he thought about drinking it.

Then he slid it gently into the side pocket of his backpack like it was made of glass, deciding to save it for later when he isn’t bombarded with Ochako’s relentless teasing.

Ochako raised an eyebrow. “You’re not gonna drink it?”

He shook his head. “Not yet.”

“Saving it for a special moment?” she teased.

Izuku shrugged, still looking at his bag.

“Maybe.”

—

The hallway buzzed with the low murmur of half-awake students, sneakers squeaking against floor, coffee cups clutched. Katsuki shoved his hands into his pockets as he walked between Kirishima and Denki, shoulders squared and there was a faint chemical smell clinging to him, remnants of the last lab he’d blitzed through.

He clicked open his student portal on his phone, thumb scrolling lazily. His eyes scanned the notification—“Clinical Biochemistry Collaborative Lab: Paired Group Rotation (Biochem & Med)”—and clicked his tongue.

“Oh hey, that the collab one?” Denki leaned over to peek.

Katsuki tilted the screen slightly away. “Yeah.”

Kirishima stretched, yawning. “Dude, I heard those labs are kinda intense. You got paired yet?”

Katsuki shoves his phone back into his pockets with a disapproving grunt.

“Midoriya’s a med student, right?” Kiri added and Katsuki didn’t reply.

“Wait, who’s Midoriya?” Denki asked, blinking between them. “Do I know that guy?”

Kiri raised a finger. “Green hair, kinda curly. Usually carries multiple notebooks at once. You’ve definitely seen him—he’s like really noticeable.”

“Ohhh.” Denki said, snapping his fingers. “The hallway hazard. Dude nearly tripped over a recycle bin the other day.”

Katsuki snorted. “Idiot’s gonna knock himself out one day.”

Kiri laughed. “He’s cool though. He’s a really nice guy.”

Denki raised an eyebrow. “You know him?”

Kiri shrugged. “Yeah, was one of the few people I made friends here with. Super nice and kind, really friendly too. You’d get along with him.”

Denki nodded in acknowledgement, clapping his hands together before pointing towards Kiri. “You’ve gotta introduce me to him then!”

Kiri slung his bag higher up his shoulder. “Sure! Anyway, kinda cool you’re doing lab with the med students. I’d die if they made us do anything too science-y in Kinesiology.”

“Yeah!” Denki groaned. “All you guys talk about is gym stuff. Quads this, core that. I still don’t know what a lat is.”

“It’s on your back, dumbass,” Katsuki grumbled.

“Exactly,” Denki said dramatically. “a mystery zone.”

They reached the edge of the science wing building. Katsuki slowed, glancing at the entrance.

“This is me,” he muttered.

Kirishima gave him a friendly pat on the back. “Well, have fun. I’m stuck analyzing foot arch pressure with some guy who thinks pushups are a warm-up.”

“Sounds manly,” Denki said. “I get to solder some stuff today.”

“Try not to stab anyone with a pipette, Bakubro!”

Katsuki gave them both a glare that promised violence and stepped into the lab room, the door swinging shut behind him with a dull clunk. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead, white and sterile against the polished countertops and rows of neatly labeled equipment. The scent of antiseptic clung to the air—sharp, clinical.

He scanned the room quickly, sharp eyes tracking the other students already milling about—white lab coats half-buttoned, and many flipping through their lab sheets. He spotted a free corner table, farthest from the windows, and made a beeline for it without a word.

He quickly slides on his gloves and lazily drags his lab coat over his broad shoulders. He leaned against the counter, arms crossed, eyes sharp as the TA, a bored-looking grad student with thick-rimmed glasses and a monotone voice, began reading out the pairings from a clipboard.

“Alright, listen up.” the TA said. “Pair assignments for today’s lab are randomized, so don’t complain—your futures depend on flexibility and teamwork.”

Groans and half-hearted cheers echoed through the room.

“You’ll be performing blood glucose testing, simple finger pricks using a glucometer. Biochem majors will explain the enzymatic principles of the tests, and Med students will walk through possible diagnoses and clinical interpretations. I’ll start reading out your partners, so pay attention.”

The names ticked by. None of them registered until,

“Bakugo Katsuki and Midoriya Izuku.”

Katsuki’s head lifted, slow and sharp like a predator observing movement.

Of fucking course.

A familiar flash of green caught the corner of his vision, and sure enough, Izuku was standing across the lab, looking around to search for a certain ash blonde. He looked up, spotted Katsuki, and visibly perked up, practically bouncing his way over.

“Kacchan!” he said excitedly, notes clutched to his chest. “Looks like we’re partners.”

Katsuki deadpanned. “Hooray.”

Izuku laughed, already sliding into the seat beside him. “You don’t look thrilled.”

“Not a fan of stabbing fingers.”

“Aw, come on, it’s just a tiny prick.” Izuku grinned. “I’ll go first if you’re squeamish.”

Katsuki shot him a glare. “I’m not squeamish.”

Izuku smiled innocently. “I know you aren’t.”

“Hush,” Katsuki muttered, tearing open the alcohol swab and grabbing the lancet pack. His fingers were steady, but his jaw was tight. Too tight.

Izuku held out his hand, palm up. “Okay, Kacchan. I’m ready.”

And there it was again — that stupid nickname that only he got to say. Katsuki ignored the way it curled under his skin and latched onto something stupid in his chest. He kept his eyes on Izuku’s hand. Small, warm, the fingers a little scarred, somehow soft anyway.

Katsuki held it in his palm. He swallowed hard. He pressed the side of Izuku’s ring finger gently, trying to angle it for the lancet. He could feel Izuku watching him, bright-eyed and curious. There was no tension in him, just excitement and curiosity.

Katsuki’s grip tightened a little. He lined up the lancet and hesitated.

Why the hell was this suddenly so—

Click.

Nothing. It hadn’t fired.

Katsuki froze.

“Did it break?” Izuku asked, peeking over with a furrowed brow.

He pressed the lancet too lightly at first. It didn’t click.

“Fuck,” Katsuki muttered.

Izuku tilted his head. “Huh?”

“Shut up.” Katsuki coughed. 

Izuku laughed softly. “C’mon, Kacchan! What’s gotten you so nervous?”

Katsuki definitely pressed too hard this time. The lancet snapped into Izuku’s skin with a sharper than necessary click.

Izuku jumped. “Ow! Kacchan!”

“It didn’t even go that deep,” Katsuki barked, yanking his hand back like he’d just been burned. “don’t be dramatic.”

Izuku winced, laughing anyway as he watched the blood bead up on his fingertip. “You’re terrible at this.”

“Let’s see you try.” Katsuki growled, grabbing a test strip and slotting it into the glucometer with a little more force than necessary. “Tch. You’d think med students would shut up when their finger’s bleeding.”

“You stabbed me!” Izuku whined with a pout that has Katsuki’s heart spiking for a second or two. The fuck?

“Barely.”

Izuku beamed. “It’s okay, Kacchan. It’s kinda cute that you were nervous.”

Katsuki shot him a glare, feeling his ears heat up. Cute? Since when did the nerd start saying shit like that? Katsuki could tell he wasn’t flirting and that he really meant it.

“You’re digging your own grave right now.” Katsuki barked and shoved the meter closer, just in time for it to beep. “Ninety-two,” he read, voice flat. “you’re fine.”

Izuku leaned forward, eyes sparkling. “Aw, you were worried about me.”

“I stabbed you. You think I’m worried about you?” Katsuki scowled.

Izuku wiped his finger with a tissue, humming. “Still. You handled me so gently.”

Handled me.

He looked away, jaw clenched, ears burning. “You’re fucking weird,” he muttered.

Izuku just laughed. The sound was stupidly soft and stupidly warm, and Katsuki hated how it stuck in his chest like honey.

Then Izuku rolled his shoulders back and said cheerfully, “Okay! Your turn.”

Katsuki blinked. “Hah?”

“I gotta poke you now, remember?”

“I remember,” Katsuki grumbled. He rubbed his fingers together, then reached to roll up his own sleeve. “Don’t screw it up.”

Izuku rolled his eyes. “I’m literally a med student.”

“You’re also a klutz.”

“Touché.”

Their knees bumped as Izuku leaned in, and neither of them moved away. Katsuki watched him prep the lancet with way too much focus. His brows furrowed, eyes slightly squinted, his lips turning downwards into a pout. Katsuki’s throat suddenly felt dry.

This was fine.

This was totally fine.

Katsuki rolled his sleeve up with a quiet huff, stretching his hand out on the table between them.

“Alright, nerd.” he grumbled. “Just get it over with.”

Izuku gave a small nod, already pulling a fresh lancet from the kit. His brows furrowed slightly in concentration as he prepped it, gentle in his movements. When he finally looked up at Katsuki’s hand, something softened in his face.

He reached for it. Katsuki expected it to be quick. Efficient. Annoying, maybe.

What he didn’t expect was how careful Izuku was.

He cradled Katsuki’s hand in both of his own, like it was something fragile. His fingers brushed along the knuckles, guiding it into a more relaxed position— as if his body knew to treat Katsuki gently even if his mind was lost in task.

He pressed once along the pad of Katsuki’s finger, searching for the right spot. Katsuki tried to scoff, to roll his eyes, to mutter something biting—but nothing came out. His throat had gone dry. His skin felt hyperaware. Like every brush of Izuku’s fingertips left static behind.

“Your hands are really rough,” Izuku murmured, half-focused.

Katsuki stilled.

The words weren’t meant to fluster him, they weren’t even said like a compliment. Just a passing thought, something factual, soft, curious. But something about the way Izuku said it, the way his thumb was brushing tiny, absent circles into Katsuki’s skin—something about it twisted under his ribs.

He scowled, voice low. “Stop babying me. Hurry up.”

“I’m not!” Izuku said, tone gentle, but defensive in a playful manner. “You just have to keep still, or I might poke the wrong spot.”

Katsuki tensed. “I said I’m not gonna flinch.”

“I know!” Izuku smiled, that same warm, maddening smile he wore when explaining complicated material or handing over his notes. “You’re the least flinchy person I know.”

He lined the lancet up, hands still firm but never rough. There was a kind of reverence in how he held Katsuki’s fingers, like he was being trusted with something important. Katsuki felt his chest tighten in a way that was completely disproportionate to the situation.

It was just a damn finger prick. It shouldn’t make him feel like this.

Click.

A sharp sting.

It barely registered.

Izuku was already pressing a bit of gauze to the site, quick and practiced. “Okay, all done. That wasn’t too bad, right?”

Katsuki didn’t answer right away, because Izuku still hadn’t let go of his hand. He was still holding it. Still brushing along the side of Katsuki’s finger with the gauze, like he was soothing a wound far deeper than the skin.

Katsuki cleared his throat, pulling his hand back like it burned. “You’re so slow.”

Izuku laughed, sheepish. “I just didn’t wanna mess up.”

Izuku slid back to his notes, already pulling up a chart he’d made ahead of time. A neat but cramped layout of scribbles, arrows, color-coded tabs and diagrams splayed across the page like organized chaos.

Katsuki leaned slightly to the side, raising an unimpressed brow. “You wrote all this for a basic glucose tolerance lab?”

Izuku didn’t even look up. “Oh, this isn’t just for this lab! It’s sort of a general breakdown I use to track blood biochemistry trends in diagnostic cases. Glucose patterns, A1C levels, prediabetes indicators, insulin resistance—there’s a lot of overlap.”

Katsuki blinked. “Overlap,” he echoed flatly.

“Yeah!” Izuku pointed to a scatter plot he’d drawn. “See here? This trend line could mean early-stage metabolic syndrome, depending on family history, BMI, diet—oh, and if you consider comorbidities like hypertension—”

“Jesus Christ.” Katsuki muttered.

“Sorry!” He laughed sheepishly, tugging at the cuff of his lab coat. “I kind of get in the zone. I just really like figuring things out like this.”

Katsuki gave him a look. “Yeah. No shit.”

Izuku flushed, but turned back to his notes. “But it’s kind of cool, right? How one tiny blood sample can give you so much information? Like the body’s leaving clues, and you just have to know how to read them.”

Katsuki grumbled under his breath. “We’re not solving a murder, Detective Dumbass. It’s just sugar.”

Izuku grinned. “Sugar can kill people, y’know.”

“Not today.”

“Hopefully not!” Izuku agreed brightly, tapping their results into the shared worksheet.

Katsuki watched him for a moment longer—watched the way his brows furrowed, the way his lips moved when he mumbled formulas under his breath, the way he tilted his head slightly to the side when he concentrated.

He was annoyingly focused.

But not in a pretentious way. More like he cared. A lot. Too much, maybe.

And for some dumb reason, Katsuki didn’t hate it.

Izuku kept working, filling in notes for their shared report. “You know, I didn’t expect to work with you today. Not that I’m complaining! I just figured I’d be paired with another biochem major, not you.”

“I am the another from Biochem.” Katsuki deadpanned.

Izuku rolled his eyes. “Oh. Right. Duh.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes.

They fell into a strange rhythm after that—Izuku explaining, Katsuki correcting him when he got the chemical properties slightly off, Izuku countering with medical applications. There were eye-rolls. There were sighs. Izuku nearly knocked over the pipette tray at one point and muttered something about caffeine withdrawal. Katsuki threatened to shove a lancet in his arm if he didn’t stop bouncing his leg under the desk.

“You know you don’t gotta narrate every step like it’s a goddamn crime scene reconstruction.” Katsuki muttered.

Izuku didn’t even glance up. “I’m just thinking out loud.”

“You think loud as hell.”

“Well, some of us process better verbally.” he said, tapping his pen against the table. “You should try it sometime instead of brooding in the corner.”

“I’m not brooding. I’m reading.”

Izuku gave him a dramatic side-eye. “With your arms crossed and your resting murder face?”

“It’s just my face.”

“And it terrifies people.”

“Good,” Katsuki grunted. “they’ll get out of my way.”

Izuku shook his head fondly and went back to the worksheet. “Okay. So, your fasting glucose was ninety-two, and your post-load reading was.. one-forty-seven. Perfect curve. Peaks then drops in the right time frame. Healthy as hell. Not even a hint of insulin resistance.”

“Told you I’m built different.”

Izuku rolled his eyes. “Sure, Kacchan. Let’s ignore genetics and physiology and say your abs are what regulate your pancreas.”

Katsuki smirked. “My pancreas works out too.”

Izuku made a face. “That’s the weirdest sentence I’ve heard all day.”

They both fell into a short silence as Izuku started jotting down conclusions for the diagnostic portion. Katsuki glanced at his half of the sheet—the part explaining the chemical breakdown of the test, and began speaking without looking up.

Then the TA clapped once from the front of the room. “Alright, time to wrap it up. I’ll be calling pairs to come forward and present your analysis. Short and professional. Just highlight your process and results.”

Izuku immediately sat up straighter. “Okay. We’ve got this. You wanna speak first, or—?”

“You’re the one who won’t shut up,” Katsuki muttered, but he didn’t sound annoyed. “I’ll handle the intro. You explain the diagnostic side.”

Izuku gave him a thumbs-up, visibly trying to suppress a nervous smile. “Teamwork!”

“God.” Katsuki groaned.

They were called third. As they stood at the front of the room, laptop in hand and data projected on the screen behind them, a shift happened—like both of them flipped a switch.

Gone were the elbow jabs and exasperated sighs. Katsuki stood tall, arms crossed confidently as he launched into a crisp, direct summary of the test protocol.

They fielded one question about potential outliers in data, which Katsuki answered with minimal words and a stare that could flatten steel. Then another about the implications of repeated testing, which Izuku elaborated on with ease, tossing in a couple of journal references off the top of his head.

The TA nodded. “Well-prepared. Great pacing. And good balance of technical detail from both sides.”

As they walked back to their table, Izuku was practically glowing. “Did you hear that? ‘Well-prepared.’ That was the best one so far, I think.”

“Don’t get cocky,” Katsuki said, sliding back into his chair, but his tone wasn’t harsh.

Izuku nudged his side lightly with his elbow. “You were great up there. Kinda scary. But great!”

Katsuki looked at him sideways. “..you did fine.”

Izuku blinked. Then smiled softly, cheeks faintly pink. “Thanks.”

They didn’t say much after that, but they didn’t need to.

By the time the lab wrapped up, they’d already fallen into step with each other. Katsuki walked beside him on the way out, quiet but present, hands in his pockets. Izuku kept pace, a little bounce in his step despite the exhaustion.

Neither said anything about it, but something had shifted.

And maybe, just maybe, something starting to bloom.

—

The gym door swung shut behind Katsuki with a soft thud and the familiar weight of heat and iron hit him like a wave. He rolled his shoulders back, towel slung around his neck, and made his way toward the lockers without sparing anyone a glance.

It was supposed to be a solo session. Nothing intense. Just some late evening lifting to burn off the frustration of midterms, sleepless nights, and the fact that he couldn’t stop thinking about stupid shit lately. Like green curls and the way a certain someone smiled at whiteboard scribbles and glucose test strips.

He stepped out onto the main floor, already twisting the cap off his water bottle, when—

He saw him.

Over by the dumbbell rack. Compression shirt. Joggers. Green curls pulled back loosely. Biceps flexing just slightly.

Katsuki blinked. Actually blinked.

It was Izuku, right there near the dumbbell rack, adjusting the weight on a pair of dumbbells. His shirt—no, wait, compression shirt—clung a little too tight across his chest, tracing out muscle Katsuki hadn’t known he had. His arms flexed as he curled the weights, brow furrowed, bottom lip pulled between his teeth like he was trying to think through something.

What the hell.

Katsuki didn’t think. He didn’t plan to move. He just did—crossing the gym floor in a few long strides before his brain could catch up.

Izuku didn’t even see him until he was a few feet away.

“Kacchan?” he said, startled, nearly dropping one of the weights, but for a split second, Katsuki could see the light shining in his eyes.

“I see you’ve also started giving the dumbbells a hard time.”

Izuku stared at him in awe for a second, then let out a short breath of laughter. “Nice to see you too.”

Katsuki narrowed his eyes. “You tryna larp?”

Izuku raised an eyebrow. “What are you even talking about?”

Katsuki scowled. “Nevermind.”

Izuku gave a sheepish shrug. “Midterm stress. I figured a workout might help me focus. You’re here for the same reason, right?”

“More or less.” Katsuki muttered. “Didn’t expect to see you.”

“I didn’t expect to come,” Izuku admitted, laughing softly. “but here I am.”

Then there was a beat of silence between them. There was only background sounds of machines, weights clanking, R&B music over the speakers before Katsuki jerked his head toward the weights in Izuku’s hands. “You’re doing curls all wrong.”

Izuku groaned. “That’s what you’re opening with?”

“Your wrists are gonna snap in half if you keep swinging like that.”

“I thought I was doing okay,” Izuku muttered, setting the weights down.

Katsuki rolled his eyes and stepped in closer, grabbing one of the dumbbells and demonstrating the movement, clean and precise. “Form’s all in the wrist. Keep your elbows in. You’re letting the tension escape.”

Izuku nodded, watching intently. “Show me again?”

Katsuki met his gaze for a moment, then sighed. “Fine.”

He showed Izuku again and moved to stand behind him. He carefully adjusted his elbow more gently than he would with anyone else and nudged his shoulder. Katsuki was up real close. Closer than necessary.

“You get it or not?”

Izuku tried the movement, more controlled this time. “Like this?”

Katsuki stared (not creepily) at the way the muscles in his arm moved beneath the shirt, how his jaw clenched just slightly in focus, how his breathing slowed.

“Yeah.” Katsuki said, low. “That’s better.”

Izuku glanced over his shoulder. “You’re kind of a good teacher when you’re not being mean, y’know?”

“Shut up.” Katsuki scowled deeply.

“Thanks, by the way.”

“For what?”

“Not letting me snap my wrists in half.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes with a half snort, “couldn’t let you die. I’d be framed a murderer.”

Katsuki stood off to the side for a second to check his phone, watching as Izuku approached the bar again after his curls. He shifted under it, readjusted his stance, did a test lift. His brows furrowed a little. His shirt clung tighter now—across his back, his sides, his arms.

And his form was still solid, Katsuki noted, annoyingly impressed.

Izuku exhaled slowly. “Hm…”

Then he looked over— “hey, Kacchan,” he said, wiping his forehead with the back of his wrist. “if you’re not busy…” He scratched his cheek, avoiding direct eye contact. “Mind spotting me for a few reps? I think I might try going heavier than usual.”

Katsuki raised a brow. “You trust me not to drop the bar on your face?”

Izuku grinned. “I trust you to yell at me until I do it right.”

Katsuki, tossing his towel to the side. “Fine. Move over, nerd.”

Izuku stepped under the bar, hands positioned with practiced precision. Katsuki moved behind him, close enough to reach but not crowding—though god, it was hard not to notice how warm Izuku’s back was, even through the shirt.

“Alright,” Katsuki muttered. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Izuku nodded, inhaled, and lifted.

And Katsuki watched—focused, quiet, hands hovering just under the bar, but his gaze kept flicking lower. His eyes tracked the strain in Izuku’s arms, the flex of his lats, the way his jaw clenched in concentration.

He looked good.

Really good.

“You got it, nerd.” Katsuki said, a little rougher than intended.

Izuku grunted softly, finishing the rep and resetting the bar with a sharp exhale. He grinned back, breathless.

“That okay?” he asked.

Katsuki’s throat felt dry. “Yeah.” he said shortly. “You didn’t even need me, dumbass.”

“Thanks.” Izuku said, voice a little breathless.

Katsuki stared at him for half a second too long. “Whatever.”

Izuku smiled at him—open, soft. The kind of smile Katsuki wasn’t used to getting. Especially not in moments like this.

“So… you come here often?” Izuku joked lightly, nudging him with his shoulder.

Katsuki scoffed. “You think you’re funny, don’t you.”

“A little!” Izuku said, slinging his towel around his neck, curls bouncing slightly as he laughed.

Katsuki glanced at the clock. “You done?”

“I’ve got one more set.” Izuku said, tilting his head. “Why?“

“I’ll spot you again. Just.. hurry up, nerd.”

And Izuku just smiled wider, that same warm look settling in his eyes again. He didn’t say thank you this time. He didn’t have to. The silence between them felt easier now.

—

The week disappeared before Katsuki even realized it.

One exam bled into another. Every lecture ended with another chapter to memorize, another quiz to prepare for, another lab report due by midnight. By the time he got back to his dorm every night, he’d barely have enough energy to shower before crashing into bed.

Tonight wasn’t much different.

Katsuki sat hunched over his desk, one leg bouncing impatiently beneath the chair as pages of metabolic pathways covered nearly every inch of the surface.

“Glycolysis..”

His pen tapped against the page.

“Citrate.. succinate.. fumarate..”

He frowned.

“Fuck.”

He’d read the same sentence four times.

With an annoyed groan, he leaned back in his chair and rubbed both hands over his face. His eyes wandered around the room. There were dozens of textbooks, a gym bag, protein powder..

and laundry.

A mountain of it.

“Shit.” He’d completely forgotten.

Katsuki glanced at the clock.

9:37pm.

If he waited until tomorrow, every machine in the dorm would be occupied.

“Tch.”

He pushed himself out of the chair, stretching until his back cracked. He grabbed the laundry basket and then stuffed a week’s worth of clothes into it. Half of it nearly fell back onto the floor.

“Whatever.”

He balanced the basket against his hip and headed downstairs. The laundry room wasn’t far from the lobby. Katsuki nudged the door open with his shoulder as the steady clattering of washing machines filled the room.

One machine was running, another was just finishing, and someone was crouched in front of the third washer, tossing clothes inside.

Green curls.

Huh.

Deku. What a coincidence.

Katsuki paused for half a second. He hadn’t realized it had been.. what? Five days? Maybe six? Not that he’d been keeping track. Their schedules had just stopped lining up due to exams.

Izuku was wearing an oversized forest-green hoodie with the sleeves rolled past his wrists and a pair of black athletic shorts, completely focused on shoving what looked like the last hoodie into the machine. He closed the washer door with a little shove, poured in the detergent, and pressed a few buttons. Izuku let out a quiet sigh of satisfaction before standing up. The moment he turned around, his eyes landed on Katsuki.

He froze.

“K—Kacchan?”

Heat rushed into his face almost instantly.

Katsuki looked him up and down for a second before setting his laundry basket on top of an empty washing machine.

“Wasn’t expecting you to know how to use one of these.”

Izuku blinked.

“H—Huh?”

“The washing machine,” Katsuki said, jerking his chin toward it. “Figured you’d just forget your clothes in there for three days.”

“Oh.” Izuku let out an awkward laugh. “I.. actually have before.”

“Figures.” Katsuki shrugged.

A small silence settled between them. They hadn’t talked in almost a week. Classes had been hectic, labs were piling up, and somehow they’d stopped running into each other altogether.

Izuku rubbed the back of his neck. “S—so.. uh..”

Katsuki finally looked at him properly.

“What?”

Izuku’s mouth opened, then immediately closed again.

He hadn’t really noticed it at first, he’d only seen Katsuki from behind while loading the washer.

But now—

Black skull shirt with loose gray sweatpants. His hair was still messy from whatever he’d been doing before coming down here, and he looked tired, like he’d been studying for hours.. but somehow it made him look even better for some reason.

Why did he look..

hot..

Izuku felt his face get warm. Really warm.

“Oh no.”

Izuku hadn’t realized he’d said that out loud.

“What?”

“N-Nothing!” His voice cracked.

Katsuki frowned and Izuku immediately looked away, pretending to become very interested in the washing machine behind Katsuki.

Izuku had heard people joke about them before. His friends, Ochako and Tsuyu had gone on an entire fifteen-minute ramble one afternoon about how guys somehow looked “unfairly attractive” in grey sweatpants. Izuku had laughed along, completely clueless, wondering what was so different about them.

That’s what they meant.

It wasn’t even that Katsuki was trying to look good. That was probably the worst part. His hair was messy, like he’d been running his hands through it all evening while studying. His shirt hung comfortably over broad shoulders, sleeves hugging his arms just enough to remind Izuku that yes, Kacchan worked out a lot..

And the sweatpants somehow made the whole thing look so..

Like this was what Katsuki looked like when nobody else was around.

Izuku could feel his ears getting warmer by the second.

Why is he so…

Handsome?

Good-looking?

Really, really attractive?

None of them felt strong enough.

He’d always known Kacchan was good-looking. People stared all the time, even if Katsuki never noticed. But this was different. Maybe because they weren’t rushing between classes and because Katsuki wasn’t scowling at something or insulting him.

He was just standing there. Talking about laundry like it was the most normal thing in the world. And somehow that made it even worse.

Stop looking.

Izuku forced his eyes back up to Katsuki’s face.

Get it together, Izuku.

It’s just Kacchan.

But since when does “just Kacchan” look like that?

Why am I blushing? It’s just Kacchan. He’s literally always looked like this.

Right?

No.

No, he definitely hadn’t.

Or maybe Izuku had just forgotten after not seeing him for almost a week.

“You good?” Katsuki asked slowly.

“H—Hm?”

“You’ve been acting weird since I walked in.”

“I—I haven’t!”

“You have.”

“I was thinking!”

“About?”

“Laundry!”

Katsuki stared at him.

“You’re a terrible liar.”

Izuku laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck again. Katsuki narrowed his eyes.

“The hell’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing!”

“You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I’m not!”

“Then why’re you so red?”

Izuku instinctively started to fan himself using his sleeve.

“I—I think it’s just… warm in here.”

Katsuki scowled. “It’s air-conditioned, dumbass.”

Izuku let out another nervous laugh, “maybe I’m getting sick?”

Katsuki snorted. “Bullshit.”

Izuku laughed again, far too loudly this time. “Y—Yeah… maybe…”

Katsuki loaded his clothes into the empty washer beside Izuku’s, still occasionally glancing over.

Izuku kept stealing looks at him and every time Katsuki looked back, Izuku immediately snapped his eyes somewhere else. Anywhere but Katsuki.

“You’re so fucking weird today. Did all that studying finally get to your brain?”

“I’ve just..” Izuku swallowed. “been really busy.”

“Tch. Same.”

“Exams have been awful.”

“They always are.”

Izuku nodded quickly. “Yeah.”

Silence settled between them once more, the air feeling unusually thick.

“Well!” Izuku suddenly checked the time on his phone. “I should go!”

Katsuki looked over. “Huh?”

“I—I still have anatomy to study.”

Katsuki raised an eyebrow. “Right. I expect nothing less.” He said sarcastically.

Izuku grabbed his now empty laundry basket a little too quickly, nearly dropping it in the process.

“O—Okay! I’ll.. see you around, Kacchan!”

Before Katsuki could answer, Izuku was already halfway to the door.

He pushed it open, muttered a quick, “Bye!” over his shoulder, and disappeared into the hallway.

The laundry room fell quiet again.

Katsuki watched the door for another second before looking down at his washing machine.

“..the fuck was that about?”

—

Finals came and went a little longer that it should’ve. The campus somehow felt lighter afterward. Students stopped looking like zombies, the library finally emptied before midnight, and conversations returned to something other than grades and caffeine intake.

Without the constant pressure of exams, schedules started lining up again.

Katsuki would be walking into a lecture hall only to find Izuku already sitting near the middle, waving him over with an unnecessarily bright grin.

“Kacchan! There’s a seat.”

“No thanks.”

He’d sit there anyway.

Sometimes they’d leave class together, only to split off a few buildings later when one had a lab and the other had another lecture. Sometimes they bumped into each other in the cafeteria. Sometimes in the hallway. Sometimes outside the gym.

It became pretty normal.

Normal enough that neither of them questioned it anymore. And somewhere along the way, they also realized just how many mutual friends they had.

It started with Kirishima, of course, who knew Izuku before Katsuki did. Then soon enough, Ochako wandered over, getting to know Katsuki a bit better since the last time she saw him. Then sometime later, Denki somehow ended up sitting with them at lunch. “So you’re the green-haired guy Kiri keeps mentioning.”

“I am?”

“Apparently you survive Bakugou.”

Even Mina knew Izuku.

Then Sero.

Then Iida, a friend of Izuku’s, somehow knew Kirishima.

By the end of the month, everyone seemed connected to everyone else. It made campus feel smaller. And somehow, Katsuki found himself seeing Izuku almost every day without actually planning to.

One morning, a cold front rolled in. Katsuki had seen it the night before while scrolling through the weather on his phone, temperatures expected to drop significantly during early mornings. He clicked his tongue, grabbed the thick charcoal scarf hanging on the back of his chair, and tossed it around his neck before heading off to morning class.

Now, just after seven in the morning, he stepped out of the dorm building with his scarf around his neck and hands shoved into the pocket of his jacket as the air hit almost immediately.

“Tch.” His breath came out in little white clouds.

Most students walked with their shoulders hunched, hands stuffed into coat pockets as they hurried toward their morning classes.

Katsuki adjusted the strap of his backpack and started down the path. He’d barely made it halfway across campus when he spotted a familiar head of messy green curls. Again.

He could not even start to count how many times they’d seen each other ever since exams ended.

He was walking in the same direction, shoulders practically glued to his ears, hands cupped together as he blew warm air into them every few steps.

“Brr..”

Another puff of white escaped his lips. “Why is it so cold..?” He rubbed his hands together furiously before shoving them into the sleeves of his hoodie.

Katsuki quickly caught up behind him.

Izuku looked up, turning his head. “Oh! Hi, Kacch—”

“You look pathetic.”

“..good morning to you too.”

“The hell’re you wearing?”

Izuku looked down at himself. “My hoodie?”

“You call that enough?”

“I didn’t think it’d be this cold.”

“Dumbass.”

Before Izuku could respond, Katsuki reached up, pulled the charcoal scarf from around his own neck, and tossed it at him.

Izuku barely caught it. “Huh?”

“Put it on.”

“W—What?”

“I said put it on. Are you deaf?”

Izuku stared at the scarf in his hands. It was still warm. Warm enough that he could feel the heat lingering in the fabric.

“K-Kacchan, but—”

“You’ve been whining for the last thirty seconds.”

“I wasn’t whining—“

Katsuki groaned dramatically. “Just wear the damn thing.”

Izuku’s fingers fumbled as he wrapped the scarf around his neck. It smelled faintly like laundry detergent.

And somehow, unmistakably, like Katsuki.

The warmth settled around his neck almost immediately. His cheeks turned pink and not from the cold.

“Kacchan..”

“Hn?” Katsuki grumbled.

“Thanks.”

Katsuki shrugged like it was nothing. “You better return it after morning classes.”

“O—Okay.”

“Don’t lose it.”

“I won’t.”

“And don’t spill coffee on it.”

“Okay!”

“Tch.”

With that, Katsuki shoved both hands back into his pockets and walked past him like he’d merely lent someone a pen, like it was no big deal.

Izuku stayed exactly where he was, watching him disappear down the path. His fingers slowly reached up to touch the scarf wrapped around his neck. It was warm.

Comfortable.

And for some reason..

His heart was beating a little too fast.

“Oh no..” He muttered, burying the lower half of his face deeper into the scarf.

A few hours lectures pass, along with the hours, Izuku finds himself stepping out of the last lecture right before lunch break. The hallway was already busywith students spilling from every lecture room with backpacks slung over one shoulder and half-finished conversations carrying through the corridor.

Izuku headed towards the cafeteria, already thinking of eating his favorite katsudon, before spotting a familiar blonde along the way.

“Kacchan!” Izuku called, lightly jogging towards him.

Katsuki turned around and raised his eyebrow. “What, nerd.”

Izuku searched for the scarf in his backpack, lightly rummaging through it before pulling out the charcoal scarf. “Here,” he smiled. “thanks again, Kacchan.”

Katsuki took it without much thought, shoving it inside his backpack in one go. “Took you long enough.”

“It was only for a few hours!” Izuku laughed.

They kept walking with the crowd, neither of them really in a rush to get to their next class. Izuku asked how Katsuki’s biochem exam went, already knowing exactly what answer he was going to get.

“Easy.” There was a slight tone in Katsuki’s voice.

“You always say that.” Izuku pouted and crossed his arms.

“‘Cause it was.”

Izuku groaned. “I don’t know how you’re so confident all the time.”

“Study better.” Katsuki shrugged.

“I do study!” Izuku whined.

“Clearly not enough.”

Izuku huffed dramatically. “You’re impossible to talk to.”

“Yet here you are.”

“..fair point.”

Before Izuku could come up with another comeback, a loud alarm suddenly echoed through the entire building. The sharp beeping cut through every conversation in the hallway, making dozens of students stop in their tracks at once. A second later, a voice came over the speakers.

“Attention. Please evacuate the building immediately. Proceed to the nearest exit in an orderly manner.”

There was a brief moment where nobody moved, everyone looking around to see if someone else knew what was going on.

Then someone yelled, “FIRE!” and the entire hallway erupted.

Students flooded out of every classroom at once, everyone trying to head for the same stairwell. People started walking faster, then jogging, then suddenly it felt like the entire floor was moving as one giant crowd. Backpacks bumped into shoulders, someone nearly dropped a stack of books, and every few seconds another person squeezed through whatever tiny gap they could find. Katsuki clicked his tongue as someone elbowed his side trying to get past. “The hell’s everyone panicking for..”

“What..” Izuku’s voice came from somewhere beside him, noticeably less steady than it had been a second ago.

Katsuki looked over. Izuku had somehow ended up almost shoulder to shoulder with him, his eyes darting around as more students poured into the hallway. “Why are there so many people?” he muttered, almost to himself.

Another wave of students came rushing out of a nearby lecture hall, forcing everyone closer together. Izuku got jostled forward, then sideways, nearly tripping over someone’s feet. “Ah—!” He yelped, quickly steadying himself “Okay, wow. This is.. this is really crowded.”

“No shit,” Katsuki muttered.

“I thought we’d have time to walk out normally!” Izuku laughed nervously, though it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than Katsuki. “Why is everyone running? If there’s actually a fire, shouldn’t we—“

“Oi—!” Katsuki growled as someone from behind bumped past him hard enough that he almost thought it was intentional. Izuku gasped.

He wasn’t scared of the fire. He was scared of the fact there were at least a hundred students trying to fit through one hallway.

Every direction he looked, there was another shoulder, another backpack, another person trying to squeeze past. He kept instinctively stepping aside to make room for everyone, only for someone else to take the space he’d just made. “Kacchan,” he laughed again, a little more frantically this time. “I think I’m gonna get flattened.”

“Tch. Dumbass.”

Another surge pushed through the crowd. Izuku’s foot caught awkwardly against someone else’s heel, and he pitched forward with a quiet, “Huh—“

Before he could hit the floor, Katsuki’s arm was suddenly around his shoulders, pulling him upright like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Katsuki didn’t think much of it. It was purely instinct kicking in. Besides, watching Izuku fall and get stepped on my hundreds of students would be a terrible sight to see.

“Can you stand properly or not, idiot?”

Izuku blinked.

He was pressed against Katsuki’s side for exactly one second. Then Katsuki seemed to realize what he’d done and immediately let go, clearing his throat and looking away like nothing had happened. His ears turned red for a brief moment, his lips pierced into a tight line.

“Quit stumbling around.”

“I wasn’t trying to!”

“Hold your damn ground.”

Katsuki tsked as another group shoved past them. Without another word, he held his arm out towards Izuku,

“Grab my sleeve.”

Izuku looked at him. “..huh?”

“You wanna get trampled on?”

Izuku stared for a second before carefully grabbing the sleeve of Katsuki’s jacket near his wrist. “Like this?”

Katsuki didn’t respond.

For some reason, that was all Izuku needed. The hallway was still loud, still cramped, still full of people rushing toward the exits, but now every time the crowd shifted, Katsuki naturally moved first, creating just enough space that Izuku didn’t have to worry about getting swept away. He wasn’t even thinking anymore—just following the sleeve in his hand while Katsuki led them through the sea of students.

By the time they made it outside, the entire front courtyard had already filled with students. Hundreds of them spilled across the walkways and lawns, some still trying to figure out what was happening while others had already pulled out their phones. The crowd wasn’t nearly as suffocating anymore, but there were still clusters of people packed together, all talking over one another.

“I heard someone smelled smoke.”

“No, I think it was the chemistry building.”

“My TA said it might’ve been a lab accident.”

“Do you think they’re cancelling classes?”

Izuku finally let go of Katsuki’s sleeve, glancing around with a relieved sigh. “At least we’re outside..” He wiped his forehead with his sleeve before looking over at Katsuki. “That got way too crowded.”

Katsuki shoved both hands into his pockets. “You act like you’ve never been in a hallway before.”

“I have!” Izuku defended. “Just not one with everyone trying to leave at the same time..”

“Tch.”

The two of them stood there with the rest of the students, waiting. Professors were slowly making their way outside, trying to keep everyone away from the entrances while campus security disappeared back into the building. Every few minutes someone would point toward a window, convinced they saw smoke, only for someone else to immediately deny it.

After another five minutes, the fire alarm finally stopped.

A few seconds later, a voice came through the announcers.

“Attention, everyone.”

The courtyard gradually quieted.

“Thank you all for evacuating in an orderly manner. After investigating the situation, we’ve confirmed there is no fire. The alarm was triggered by a malfunctioning detector in one of the science buildings.”

A collective groan spread through the crowd.

“We apologize for the inconvenience. Classes will resume in approximately fifteen minutes once the system has been reset.”

Someone nearby muttered, “ughh.. No way!”

Another student threw his head back dramatically. “I walked down seven flights of stairs for that?”

Izuku let out a long sigh, his shoulders finally relaxing now that everyone knew there wasn’t actually a fire. “Oh, thank goodness.. I was actually starting to think one of the chemistry labs exploded.”

Katsuki didn’t answer.

He stood there with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, jaw clenched so tightly it almost hurt. The muscles in his temple twitched, his veins popping out as he stared blankly at the administration building, listening to students laugh and complain around him.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” The words came out under his breath.

All that.

For nothing.

He’d been pulled out in the middle of studying. Halfway through reviewing the material he’d finally managed to memorize. Then he got shoved around by a crowd of idiots for nearly ten minutes, stood outside waiting like an idiot, and now they were seriously telling him it was just a faulty alarm?

“What a bunch of bullshit.”

“Kacchan?” Izuku glanced over.

“The hell kind of school spends this much on tuition but can’t keep a damn fire alarm working?” Katsuki muttered, mostly to himself. “Bunch of incompetent idiots.”

Izuku scratched his cheek awkwardly. “I mean.. I guess it’s better that there wasn’t a fire?”

“Obviously. That doesn’t mean I’m happy about it.” Katsuki clicked his tongue loudly “They wasted everyone’s time, my time.”

He looked around at the crowd scattered across the courtyard, students chatting like this was some kind of break between classes.

“Look at ’em.”

Izuku did.

“They’re all just standing around.”

“Well..”

“They’re acting like this isn’t the biggest waste of time.”

“Kacchan..” Izuku’s lips wobbled nervously.

“I could’ve finished two chapters by now.”

Izuku smiled a little. “You’re really mad.”

“No fucking shit.”

Another student walked past them complaining about having to walk down six flights of stairs. Katsuki scoffed. “Six flights?” He let out a dry laugh. “Cry me a damn river.”

Izuku covered his mouth, trying very hard not to laugh. Katsuki noticed immediately.

“The hell’re you smiling at?”

“I’m not smiling.”

“You are.”

“I’m just..”

Izuku bit the inside of his cheek.

“..I think it’s kind of funny.”

Katsuki stared at him like he’d grown another head.

“Funny.”

“A little.”

“You think me having my time wasted because a stupid alarm can’t work properly despite all the tuition fees they accept every fucking year is funny?” Katsuki scowled deeply.

Izuku couldn’t hold it in anymore. A grinned formed as a laugh slipped out before he could stop himself.

It wasn’t loud or obnoxious. Just a soft, breathy laugh that made his shoulders bounce a little. He immediately covered his mouth with his hand, eyes squeezing shut.

“I’m sorry,” he said between small laughs. “I-I’m really trying not to laugh.”

Katsuki frowned.

He looked at Katsuki, took one look at the irritated scowl still plastered across his face, and immediately had to look away again.

“I’m sorry.”

“You keep saying that.”

“I know, I just…” Izuku let out one last quiet laugh. “You look like you’re about to destroy the world.”

Katsuki clicked his tongue. “I would if I could.”

That only made Izuku laugh again.

“You’re unbelievable.”

Katsuki let out an annoyed sigh, fully expecting himself to get even angrier. But instead.. there was actually nothing. He just stared at Izuku for a second. The idiot was still trying to stop laughing, apologizing every few seconds while completely failing to hide the smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

For some reason, it was hard to stay pissed.

The hell?

Katsuki frowned harder. A second ago he was ready to cuss out the entire maintenance department. Now this nerd was standing here laughing at him—

And somehow it wasn’t making him any angrier. If anything, the irritation had weirdly faded. Not completely though, he was still annoyed. Still thought the whole evacuation was a waste of time and still wanted to know which dumbass let the alarm malfunction.

But every time Izuku laughed again, that anger got interrupted before it could build back up.

“Quit laughing.”

“I’m trying.”

“You suck at it.”

“I know.” Another laugh escaped him.

Katsuki exhaled sharply through his nose. “Idiot.”

Izuku finally managed to calm himself down, wiping at the corner of one eye. “Sorry.”

“You’ve said that like five times.”

“I have.”

Katsuki looked away with another click of his tongue.

The hell’s wrong with me?

Usually when people laughed at him, it pissed him off even more. He’d snap back, telling them to shut up, maybe threaten to punch them. So why wasn’t he doing that now?

Instead, all he could think was how stupid Izuku looked trying so hard to apologize while smiling at the same time.

“Freak. Weirdo.”

Izuku tilted his head. “Huh?”

“You laugh at the dumbest shit.”

Izuku rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “..maybe.”

“Tch.”

Katsuki looked away before Izuku could catch the tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth.

What the hell.

That was annoying. Really annoying.

—

Next week was busier than expected, especially for med students. It was nearing winter season, and the weather grew colder each day, the kind of cold that seeped through coat sleeves and made the walk between buildings feel longer than it was. Every professor suddenly seemed to remember there were still assignments left before the semester ended, and for the medicine department, one exam in particular had everyone on edge.

Pathology was fifty percent of their final grade, and Izuku had been talking about it nonstop for days.

“Kacchan, do you know how many diseases we have to memorize?” he’d complained after one lecture, breath fogging faintly in the cold air outside the building.

“I don’t care.”

“There are over a hundred conditions just for this module!”

“Sucks to be you.”

“It really does.”

At first, Katsuki hadn’t thought much of it. Izuku always rambled whenever he got stressed. He figured this would be the same.

Apparently, it wasn’t.

Three days passed, and every time Katsuki happened to run into him around campus, Izuku looked just a little worse than before. The first day, Katsuki noticed the coffee. It wasn’t very unusual. Lots of students practically lived off caffeine during exam season.

The second day, it became two cups.

Then three.

The dark circles under Izuku’s eyes started becoming impossible to ignore. His hair looked messier than usual, like he’d been running his hands through it all day, and every now and then Katsuki would catch him rubbing at his eyes during lectures when he thought nobody was looking.

Still, Izuku smiled and laughed and still talked a mile a minute whenever they happened to pass each other between classes, even if his voice sounded a little thinner than usual and his words came with the faint edge of exhaustion.

So Katsuki figured he was probably exaggerating it in his head.

One day, Katsuki was making his way over to the library for a pop quiz the next day. It was pretty quiet that evening.

Most of the tables had already been claimed by students buried beneath stacks of notes and textbooks, the room filled with the soft, constant sounds of pages turning, pens scratching, and the occasional muffled cough. Somewhere near the front, a heater hummed low and steady, fighting against the cold that clung to the windows.

Katsuki adjusted the strap of his backpack as he walked inside, immediately scanning the room for an empty seat.

His eyes landed on a familiar head of messy green curls.

“Tch.”

Izuku, wearing his glasses, was sitting at one of the tables in the corner they started using whenever they studied together. Medical textbooks were stacked infront of him and sheets of paper covered many spaces on the table, crowded with scribbled notes, highlighted diagrams, and half-finished annotations. A half-empty bottle of water sat untouched near the edge, already beaded with condensation from the cold air.

There were three empty coffee cups and a fourth one sat beside his elbow.

Izuku didn’t even notice Katsuki walking over. His eyes stayed fixed on the page in front of him, lips silently mouthing words as he traced a line with his finger.

Katsuki stopped beside the table.

“Oi.”

No response.

He frowned. “Oi.”

Izuku jumped so hard his pen slipped right out of his hand.

“O-Oh!” He looked up, blinking a few times before breaking into a tired smile. “Kacchan.”

“You deaf?”

“I didn’t hear you.” Izuku laughed awkwardly, bending down to pick up his pen. The movement looked slower than it should’ve, like even that small motion took effort. “Sorry.”

Katsuki pulled out the chair across from him and dropped his backpack onto the table.

“You look like shit.”

“Wow.”

“You ain’t sleeping.”

“I am.”

“Bullshit.”

Izuku adjusted his glasses, smiling like he always did, but it looked off somehow. His eyes were heavy and the smile didn’t quite reach them. He looked pale in a way Katsuki hadn’t noticed before, like the cold outside had followed him in and settled under his skin.

“I slept.”

“When?”

“Last night.”

“How long.” Katsuki asks, although it sounding more like a statement than a question.

Izuku hesitated just long enough for Katsuki to notice. “Mm.. A few hours.”

Katsuki stared at him. “A few?”

“..three.”

Katsuki clicked his tongue. “Idiot.”

Izuku rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish laugh, “I’ve just been studying a lot.”

“No shit.”

The library settled around them in a hush broken only by the occasional soft rustle of paper. Katsuki pulled out his own notes while Izuku went right back to highlighting his textbook, quietly muttering medical terms under his breath. Izuku pressed the heel of his hand against his chin, leaning on it as he traced texts with his pen.

Katsuki couldn’t focus. The way Izuku just seemed so tired, unusually pale, was almost uncanny. He’d seen Izuku in many states, but never overworked to this extent.

After another minute, Katsuki looked over again.

“Oi.”

“Hm?”

“You eat yet?”

Izuku’s pen paused for just a second. “Not yet.”

“Why.”

“I forgot.”

“You forgot.” Katsuki deadpanned.

“I was gonna grab something after I finished this chapter.” Izuku shrugs with a small smile, adjusting his glasses with a nudge of his finger.

Katsuki glanced at the untouched granola bar sitting beside Izuku’s notebook.

“Were you? Or are you just saying that.”

Izuku followed Katsuki’s gaze until his eyes landed on the unopened granola bar sitting beside his notebook.

“Mmm..”

He blinked at it for a second, almost like he’d completely forgotten it was there. A small, embarrassed smile spread across his face as he scratched the back of his neck.

“I just haven’t eaten it yet.” he said with an awkward laugh.

Katsuki didn’t say anything right away. He looked from the granola bar, to the four coffee cups scattered around the table, then back to Izuku. The table looked less like a study spot and more like someone had been living there for the past few days.

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not!”

Izuku looked down at the page in front of him again, immediately picking up his highlighter as if the conversation had already ended. “I was going to eat it after I finished this chapter, but then I realized I still needed to review renal pathology, and after that I wanted to go over endocrine again because I keep mixing up Cushing’s and Addison’s, and then I still have cardiology after that..”

His voice trailed off, one sentence seeping into the next without him even realizing it.

“..aand if I have enough time tonight I should probably go over the antibiotics again because there are still a few mechanisms I keep second-guessing, and then tomorrow morning I can—”

“Oi.”

Izuku stopped mid-sentence. “Huh?” He looked over to Katsuki, and found him glaring into Izuku

“You talk too much.”

Izuku blinked.

“I do?”

“Yeah.”

He adjusted his glasses, another tired smile tugging at his lips. “Sorry.”

For a few moments, neither of them spoke.

The library settled back into its quiet rhythm around them, broken only by the occasional turning of a page or the scratching of pens across paper. Izuku had already gone back to highlighting another paragraph, lips moving silently as he reread the same sentence to himself.

Katsuki tried to do the same. He opened his own notebook, flipped to the chapter he’d come here to study, and forced his eyes onto the page.

It lasted maybe two minutes.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Izuku rub his hand over his eyes before pushing his curls back. Not even thirty seconds later, another yawn escaped him. He reached automatically for the paper cup sitting beside his notebook, taking another sip without even looking at it.

Katsuki frowned.

“You’re gonna overdose on coffee, dumbass.”

Izuku laughed softly and gave a small shrug, “What can I say? I’m an aspiring doctor!” Izuku leaned a bit towards Katsuki, curling his arms and showing off his bicep.

Katsuki tsked and shoved Izuku, lightly, “You can’t be a doctor if you die, idiot.”

Izuku only smiled as his eyes went back to trailing his textbooks. Katsuki watched Izuku’s eyes drift across paragraphs once more.

One line. Back to the top. The same line.

His pencil hovered over the margin for a few seconds before he scribbled something down, only to erase it immediately with the side of his hand.

He wasn’t retaining any of it.

Katsuki let out a quiet click of his tongue before reaching across the table. Without asking, he slid Izuku’s notebook out from under his arm.

Izuku looked up in confusion and surprise. “Hey!”

“I’m quizzing you.”

“What?”

Katsuki flipped through the pages, skimming over highlighted paragraphs and tiny handwriting squeezed into every available margin. The amount of notes alone made him tired just looking at them.

“You seriously wrote all this?”

Izuku smiled a little.

“..yeah.”

“The hell’s wrong with you?”

“It helps me remember.” Izuku replied sheepishly, rubbing a hand behind his curls.

“Looks like a dictionary threw up.”

Izuku laughed quietly, leaning his chin on the palm of his hand as he stared at Katsuki.

“I know.”

Katsuki ignored the comment, stopping on a random page before looking back up.

“Alright.”

Izuku straightened in his chair and pushed his glasses up properly this time, looking like he was warming up for more than just a quiz. “Go for it.”

Katsuki rested an elbow on the table, glancing between Izuku and the notes in front of him.

“Patient comes in with fatigue, weight loss, low blood pressure, and skin hyperpigmentation.”

Izuku nodded almost immediately. “Mhm.”

“Diagnosis.”

Izuku puts his index across his lips and pouted, eyes slightly squinting. “Hmm..”

His eyes drifted upward toward the ceiling as he thought. His fingers absentmindedly tapping against his lips while he searched through everything he’d spent the last few days memorizing.

Katsuki watched him for another second, then he shut the notebook.

Thump.

Izuku’s eyes snapped back down. “Kacchan?”

Katsuki closed the textbook next, then gathered the loose papers into one neat pile before sliding it towards himself. “That’s enough.”

Izuku stared at him and his books Katsuki were holding on to. “What do you mean?”

“We’re done.”

For a second, Izuku honestly thought he was joking.

A small laugh escaped him. “Very funny.”

“I’m serious.”

The smile slowly faded from Izuku’s face. “Kacchan..?”

“You ain’t studying anymore tonight.”

Izuku immediately reached for the notebook again, but Katsuki had his hand on top of it before he could pull it back.

“I still have three chapters left.”

“You ain’t remembering any of ’em.” Katsuki scowled, tightening his hold when Izuku tried to pull his books.

“I just blanked for a second—“ Izuku tried to protest.

“You shouldn’t be blanking.”

Izuku opened his mouth, “Actually, I wasn’t blanking! I was think—“

“You hesitated.”

Izuku frowned and slouched slightly, “..for like two seconds..”

“Exactly.”

Izuku frowned, trying to tug the notebook back. Katsuki didn’t move his hand.

“Kacchan.”

“No.” Katsuki shook his head, his voice was unusually soft. Stern, but there was a hidden gentleness. Izuku was too tired to notice the worry starting to form on Katsuki’s face.

“I can still study.” Izuku insisted.

“You’ve been sitting here for hours.”

Izuku whined, like a child being denied a sweet treat. “I know.”

“And?”

“And I need to keep going.”

“You need sleep.”

“I need to pass.”

His voice stayed calm, but Katsuki could hear the exhaustion creeping into it. Izuku wasn’t arguing because he was angry, he was arguing because he genuinely believed he couldn’t afford to stop.

Katsuki frowned. “You ain’t gonna fail because you took one night off.”

“You don’t know that, Kacchan.”

“I know enough.”

Izuku finally managed to pull the notebook back toward himself, immediately opening it to the page Katsuki had closed.

“I’ll sleep after I finish.”

Katsuki watched him pick up his pen again as Izuku started to underline the same sentence he’d already highlighted earlier.

They were both silent for a few seconds. Izuku thought that Katsuki finally gave up his shenanigans and was about to leave, but then Katsuki reached over again and shut the book a second time.

More firmly this time.

Izuku looked up. “Seriously?”

“Listen to me, nerd.”

“Kacchan..” Izuku sighed deeply.

“You’re done.”

“No, I’m not,” Izuku took a slow breath before speaking again, trying to keep his voice even. “You don’t understand.”

Katsuki folded his arms across his chest. “Then explain it.”

“It’s fifty percent of my grade.”

“So?

“So,” Izuku gestured helplessly toward the stack of textbooks between them. “I need to do well, Kacchan. Do you really want me to fail?” His sentence trailed off. “I thought you were smart enough to understand..”

The words hung between them.

“I thought you were smart enough to understand.”

Katsuki stared at him. And for a second, he didn’t say anything.

Then his brows slowly knitted together.

“What’d you say?”

Izuku blinked, finally realizing how that had come out. “I didn’t mean it like—”

“So now I’m the dumb one?”

“No, that’s not what I—”

“You think I don’t get how important exams are?”

“Kacchan, I never said that.”

Katsuki stared at Izuku for a long second, his brows drawn together, irritation and concern twisting together so tightly it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began.

“I do understand.”

Izuku sighed, already rubbing at his tired eyes again. “Kacchan…”

“No, fuck off.” Katsuki leaned forward, one forearm resting against the table, his posture sharp enough to look like he was holding himself back by force. “You keep acting like you’re the only person who’s ever had a big exam.”

“I never said that.”

“You keep saying I don’t get it.”

“I’m saying med school is different.”

“So?”

“So this exam matters.”

“So does every other damn exam.”

“It’s fifty percent of my grade!”

“I heard you the first ten times.”

Izuku let out another tired breath, the sound thin and frayed at the edges. His fingers tightened around the pen in his hand like it was the only thing keeping him anchored.

“If I don’t do well..”

He glanced down at the open textbook in front of him, though the words on the page seemed to blur together under the weight of his exhaustion.

“I can’t afford to mess this up.”

“You ain’t gonna mess it up because you slept.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes I do.”

Izuku shook his head, more from helplessness than disagreement.

“You don’t.”

Katsuki’s jaw tightened. He hated the way Izuku said it—like Katsuki was standing outside something important, like he was being shut out from a problem he could clearly see from the outside in. Worse, he hated that Izuku looked so worn down while doing it.

“You really think staying awake until three in the morning’s helping you?”

“I have to.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I do.”

“You don’t.”

“I need to pass.”

“You’ll pass.”

“You don’t know that!”

Izuku finally looked up, and the exhaustion in his face made him look even more fragile than before. His eyes were shadowed, his shoulders tense. Izuku’s face.. Katsuki had never seen him like that.

“You don’t understand, Kacchan.”

Katsuki scoffed, though the sound came out harsher than he intended, sharpened by frustration that had nowhere else to go.

“Then explain it.”

“I want to be a doctor.”

“Okay?”

“A good one,” Izuku’s grip on his pen tightened until his knuckles paled. “I’ll be responsible for people’s lives one day.”

His voice was quieter with each words he spoke, almost desperate, like he was telling something he’d been carrying around too heavily.

“If I don’t know this stuff.. if I don’t study enough.. then someday someone could get hurt because of me.”

Katsuki didn’t interrupt.

Because he understood that part. He understood it too well, the pressure, the fear of being the reason something went wrong, the way responsibility could sit on your chest like a weight you couldn’t set down. What he couldn’t stand was the way Izuku seemed determined to crush himself under it.

“So if staying up for a few nights means I become a better doctor,”

Izuku gave a small shrug, but it looked less like confidence and more like surrender.

“then it’s worth it.”

For a moment, Katsuki just stared at him. He understood what Izuku was trying to say, he really did.

But understanding it didn’t make the sight in front of him any easier to swallow. All he could think about was the person sitting across from him, the dark circles under his eyes, the untouched granola bar, the coffee gone cold beside him, and how incredibly stubborn he was being.

Katsuki would never say he was a person who was easily influenced by others saying. He truly wasn’t. But the way Izuku shut him out.. he couldn’t accept it. Izuku telling him that he would never understand, when infact, he was the only one who could understand had tipped him over the edge.

His palm slammed against the table so hard the notebooks jumped. The sound cracked through the library, loud enough to make the air seem to tighten around them.

A few heads immediately turned.

“Then you’ve gotta take care of yourself first, you dumb fuck!”

Izuku flinched, hard. His eyes widened behind his glasses.

For a split second, he just stared up at Katsuki, completely caught off guard, like he’d expected anger but not this much of it, not this raw.

“K—Kacchan!”

“Do you have any idea of how stupid you fucking sound, dimwit?”

“Kacchan, lower your—”

“Has all that caffeine gone into your brain?!”

“Kacchan—!”

Several students were openly looking over now.

The quiet whispers around the library suddenly felt much louder, every rustle of paper and shifting chair turning into a reminder that they were being watched. Izuku glanced around, and the embarrassment that flashed across his face was immediate and painful, like he’d been caught doing something shameful instead of simply trying to survive.

“Kacchan..” His voice dropped to almost a whisper. “Stop being childish.”

Silence.

“Childish?”

Izuku’s voice shook, not from embarrassment, but from fear. “People are looking.”

“That’s what you’re worried about right now?”

“I don’t want to cause a scene.”

Katsuki let out a short, disbelieving laugh, but there was no humor in it. It was the sound of someone standing at the edge of his patience and finding nothing but more frustration beneath it.

“Me? Childish?”

Izuku frowned, confusion and irritation flickering across his face even through the exhaustion.

“Ka—“

“Look at yourself.”

Izuku pinched the bridge of his nose, looking like he was trying to hold himself together by force. The gesture only made him seem more tired, more overwhelmed.

“Kacchan, just calm down.”

“I’m calm.”

“No, you’re not!”

“I said I’m fine!”

“No, you’re not!”

Izuku ran a hand through his curls in frustration, the motion rough and distracted, like he was trying to shake off the tension crawling up his spine.

“Can you please just sit down so we can talk? Properly?”

Katsuki didn’t answer. He just stood there. Both of his hands clenched so tightly at his sides that his knuckles had turned white, and his jaw was clenched so hard it ached.

His eyes stayed fixed on Izuku. The way Izuku had the nerves to look annoyed, frustrated, when all Katsuki was trying to do is look out for him.. he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to keep his voice steady, or his temper contained, or any of the things he was trying so hard to hold together anytime soon.

The silence felt worse than the yelling.

“..Kacchan?”

Nothing.

Izuku shifted uncomfortably in his chair, the movement small but restless, like he could feel the distance opening between them and didn’t know how to stop it.

“Say something.. please.”

Still nothing.

“Kacchan?”

Katsuki reached down, grabbed his backpack off the floor, and slung it over one shoulder in one rough motion.

“Do whatever the fuck you want.” His words were rough, painful, it hurt and it tore through Izuku’s heart, but voice was unnaturally quiet. It was.. flat.

Stripped of heat in a way that somehow made it worse, like all the anger had burned itself out and left only something colder behind. It hurt more than if he’d yelled.

Without looking at Izuku again, he turned and walked away.

Izuku stayed frozen in his seat, watching him disappear between the bookshelves.

He looked down at the open notebook in front of him, then at the chair Katsuki had left behind.

Izuku stayed in the library for another hour.

Or at least, he tried to.

The page in front of him never changed. His pen stayed over the margin, the tip hovering in the same place. His eyes moved line by line over the same paragraph again and again, but the words had started to lose their shape, turning into a gray blur beneath the library’s warm lights.

After another few minutes of pretending to study, he quietly packed his things into his backpack. The library was beginning to empty anyway, the sky outside already turning orange as the evening settled over campus.

He walked back to the dorms on autopilot.

Usually, he’d catch himself looking around campus, waving at classmates or getting distracted by whatever club was holding an event outside.

Today, he barely noticed any of it.

His room felt strangely quiet when he stepped inside. He set his backpack beside his desk and stood there for a moment. He figured he’d study better if he wasn’t in the place where his best friend had just crashed out on him.

He went to take a warm shower, then changed into comfortable clothes, anything to relieve his mind of what had happened earlier. But somehow, it only made everything feel heavier, like the silence had settled deeper into his bones.

He pulled out his notes, the papers, thick textbooks, and set them down on his table. He opened his notes and tried to start from where he’d left off, but his mind kept slipping back to what had happened earlier, no matter how hard he tried to force it forward.

“Then you’ve gotta take care of yourself first, you dumb fuck!”

“Do whatever the fuck you want.”

He swallowed hard, blinking down at the page. His throat felt tight, and the letters in front of him began to swim. A small drop of water landed on the paper.

Izuku sniffed as another one followed.

He stared at the tiny dark spots staining the corner of his notes before hurriedly pulling off his glasses, rubbing at his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie.

“…really?” His voice came out embarrassingly shaky.

He wasn’t crying because of the exam, or because they’d argued.

It was because Katsuki had never looked at him like that before.

Never spoken to him like that before.

The anger in Katsuki’s voice replayed in his head over and over, but somehow, it wasn’t the yelling that hurt the most. It was the way he’d gone quiet at the end.

The flat look in his eyes and the way he simply walked away.

Izuku took a slow breath, trying to steady himself. His fingers trembled faintly as he reached for his glasses again, and he had to pause for a second before putting them back on.

He picked up his pen and looked down at the textbook again. He stared at the page until his eyes started to ache, his notes sat in neat, careful rows in front of him, but his mind felt scattered.

With a quiet sigh, he stood up and walked over to sit down on the edge of his bed.

Maybe he had been stubborn.

He knew he hadn’t been taking very good care of himself. He knew the coffee probably wasn’t helping. He knew he’d been sleeping way too little.

But shouldn’t Katsuki understand? This exam wasn’t something he could afford to fail. If he wanted to become the kind of doctor people could rely on.. didn’t he have to work this hard?

Izuku lowered his head, resting his elbows on his knees. His shoulders curled inward, as if he could physically hold himself together that way.

“..he didn’t have to be so mean.” The words escaped before he even realized he’d said them.

He understood why Katsuki was upset. He really did. But yelling at him in the middle of the library, cussing at him, storming off without even letting him explain..

His chest tightened again, a sharp ache that made it hard to breathe properly. Another tear rolled down his cheek. He wiped it away almost immediately.

With another quiet sigh, Izuku stood up and then grabbed the pathology textbook from his backpack.

“I still have to study..”

He climbed onto his bed, resting against the headboard with the textbook open across his lap. The mattress dipped beneath his weight, and the bedside lamp cast a soft yellow light over the pages, making the rest of the room feel even dimmer.

His eyes moved over the diagrams and highlighted terms, but the longer he stared, the more the letters seemed to drift apart. Somewhere around the third page, his eyelids started feeling heavier.

He told himself he’d close his eyes for just a minute.

The textbook slowly slipped lower in his hands. His fingers loosened around the edge of the cover, and his head tipped against the wall.

Still wearing his glasses, with the book open across his lap and the bedside lamp still on…

Izuku accidentally fell asleep.

—

The next morning, Katsuki woke up expecting to feel over it.

He rolled out of bed too fast, nearly kicking the blanket to the floor, and stood there for a second with one hand braced against the mattress while the other rubbed hard at his neck. The argument came back immediately. Izuku’s tired eyes, the sharp edge in his voice, the way he’d looked at Katsuki like he was the problem.

Katsuki clicked his tongue and shoved a hand through his hair.

“Tch.”

He splashed cold water on his face, brushed his teeth with more force than necessary, and yanked on a hoodie before heading out. By the time he crossed campus, his hands were buried deep in his pockets and his jaw was set so tight it ached.

“Stop being childish.”

The words kept looping in his head like a damn broken alarm.

He’d been trying to help. That was the part that pissed him off the most.

He wasn’t trying to tell Izuku how to live his life. He wasn’t trying to control him. He just couldn’t stand watching someone obviously running himself into the ground pretend everything was fine while acting like Katsuki was the asshole for noticing.

If Izuku wanted to become a doctor so badly, then shouldn’t he know better than anyone that sleep and food weren’t optional?

Katsuki still didn’t get it. He understood pressure and he definitely understood wanting to do well. Hell, he’d skipped meals before during exam season too, and he’d pulled all-nighters when he had to.

But this? It was stupid.

And Izuku was smart enough to know that. So why wouldn’t he stop?

The thought followed him all morning, through every lecture, sharp and irritating, like a pebble stuck in his shoe.

His lecture ended just before noon. Students surged into the hallway, backpacks bumping shoulders, shoes squeaking against the floor. Katsuki shoved his notebook into his bag, slung it over one shoulder, and stepped out with the crowd.

Then he saw him.

Across the corridor, half-hidden by a cluster of students, was a familiar head of messy green curls.

Deku.

He looked up at the exact same time. For one brief second, the noise around them seemed to dull.

Their eyes met.

But Izuku didn’t smile and Katsuki didn’t wave.

Izuku’s fingers tightened around the strap of his backpack. His expression flickered, something small and unreadable, like he’d been caught off guard, before he looked away and kept walking.

Katsuki watched him disappear into the moving crowd.

Then he turned sharply and headed the opposite direction, shoulders stiff.

“Whatever.”

It happened again the next day, during the afternoon.

Katsuki was leaving the cafeteria with Kirishima and Denki when he spotted Izuku near the entrance, walking in with Ochako. She was talking animatedly, one hand lifted as she laughed at something, while Izuku nodded along with a tired smile.

Katsuki’s gaze catched him. And just for a second, Izuku glanced over. Their eyes met again.

The smile on Izuku’s face faltered almost immediately. He gave a small nod out of habit, like he’d started to acknowledge Katsuki before remembering things were rough between them, then looked away first.

“Hey—Kacchan?” Denki said, bumping his shoulder when Katsuki stopped dead for half a beat. “You listening?”

“Don’t call me that.”

Katsuki’s voice was rough, deep. He scowled deeply and it sent shivers down Denki’s spine.

“Woah! Okay, dude. I was just joking around.”

Kirishima laughed, glancing between them. “What’s gotten you so pissed?”

“Nothin’.” The answer came too fast and too flat.

Kirishima raised an eyebrow, but Denki just shrugged and kept walking, still talking about something Katsuki wasn’t paying attention to.

The next few days settled into an uncomfortable routine.

They still shared lectures and still crossed paths between classes. Still existed in the same spaces. But they stopped sitting together and stopped waiting outside classrooms.

Stopped falling into step beside one another without thinking.

Katsuki noticed it first. The empty space beside him when he entered a lecture hall. The way Izuku would be seated somewhere else even though there was empty seats near him.

The brief pause in the hallway when they spotted each other, followed by both of them choosing different routes without a word.

Every time Katsuki walked into the library, his eyes automatically drifted toward the corner table they’d always used.

Izuku was usually there. Katsuki would see the green curls bent over a stack of notes, a pen tapping against the page, a coffee cup sitting too close to the edge of the table.

Then one of them would quietly choose a different table. Neither of them acknowledged it.

It was easier that way.

It should be.

Katsuki kept telling himself he’d done the right thing. Someone had to say it. If Izuku wasn’t going to take care of himself, then somebody had to call him out for it.

Maybe he’d been harsher than he needed to be and maybe yelling in the library hadn’t been his brightest moment.

But the message itself? He didn’t regret that, not even a little.

You can’t save anybody if you can’t even take care of yourself.

His thoughts sounded just as true now as they had in the library.

So why—

Why did campus suddenly feel quieter? Why did lectures feel a little longer? Why did he keep catching himself scanning crowded hallways for green hair before remembering they weren’t talking anymore?

Katsuki frowned, jaw tightening. “Doesn’t matter.”

He adjusted his backpack over one shoulder and kept walking. It was for the best, it had to be.

—

Today was the scheduled exam for med students that was worth 50% of their grade.

Katsuki and Izuku still didn’t talk. Just brief glances across campus before one of them reluctantly looked away first.

Katsuki had almost gotten used to it.

Almost.

He walked into their shared lecture a few minutes before class started, dropping his backpack onto his usual seat near the middle of the room. Students were still filing in, the room buzzing with conversations about assignments and weekend plans.

Katsuki pulled out his laptop, barely paying attention to the people walking past. Then the seat a few rows ahead caught his eye. It was Izuku.

He was already sitting down, quietly flipping through a small stack of notes while waiting for the professor to arrive.

Katsuki looked away almost immediately.

Tch.

He looked.. surprisingly fine. Like he wasn’t fighting against sleep anymore. He still looked tired, obviously, and still had those stupid eyebags. But not as bad from before.

He frowned to himself before opening his notebook.

A minute later, movement caught the corner of his eye. Without thinking, he glanced over again.

Izuku reached into the side pocket of his backpack. Katsuki expected another paper coffee cup. Instead, a clear water bottle. Izuku unscrewed the cap and took a long drink before setting it back down on the desk.

Katsuki stared at it for a second.

Water.

Not coffee.

His eyes drifted lower.

The zipper on Izuku’s backpack hadn’t been closed all the way. Sticking out from the opening was a sandwich wrapped in clear plastic, half of it already gone, like it’d been eaten on the way to class.

Katsuki looked away.

The knot that had been sitting in his chest ever since the argument loosened, just a little.

At least the idiot had eaten. Maybe he’d actually listened.

The thought settled somewhere in the back of his mind before he could stop it. A quiet breath escaped through his nose.

“Good.”

Then he caught himself, his brows immediately furrowed.

The hell am I doing?

He clicked his tongue, looking back down at his notebook a little harder than necessary.

Why was he even paying attention? They weren’t talking. Hadn’t talked all week.

So why was he checking what Izuku was drinking? Or what he packed for breakfast? Why the hell did he even notice the sandwich?

“Tch.”

Annoyed with himself now, Katsuki flipped open his notebook and forced his attention onto the lecture slides projected at the front of the room.

He’d made up his mind days ago. Izuku could do whatever he wanted.

Eat.

Don’t eat.

Sleep.

Don’t sleep.

It wasn’t Katsuki’s problem anymore.

The professor walked in, and the room gradually fell silent. As the lecture began, Katsuki kept his eyes fixed firmly on the front of the classroom. He didn’t look at Izuku again.

—

His last lecture ended just after three.

Students slowly filtered out into the hallway, stretching and complaining about assignments as they headed toward the exits.

Katsuki walked with the crowd, one hand shoved into his pocket while the other adjusted the strap of his backpack. He told himself he was just heading back to the dorms like usual, that he wasn’t looking for anything, that he didn’t care where Izuku was.

Then he stepped outside the building and saw him, familliar green curls near one of the benches. Izuku was standing there with Ochako, waving animatedly as she walked backward down the path.

“I’ll text you later!”

“Okay! See you!”

Ochako hurried off toward another building, leaving Izuku standing by himself.

For a second, Katsuki kept walking. Then—

“Oi.”

The word left his mouth before he’d even decided to say it.

Izuku froze. Actually froze. He turned around stiffly, and the sight of Katsuki standing in front of him, after all the avoiding each other and the argument, made his heart jump.

“Kacchan?”

There was obvious surprise on his face. He hadn’t expected Katsuki to talk to him. Neither had Katsuki, honestly.

He stopped a few feet away, shoving both hands into his pockets. He could feel his pulse in his throat, and he hated that Izuku was the reason for it.

“How was it?”

Izuku blinked, tilting his head slightly.

“The exam, dumbass.”

“Oh.”

A smile slowly spread across his face.

“I think…” He let out a relieved laugh. “I think it went really well.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah!” Izuku nodded enthusiastically, balling up his fists as his eyes shined with a different light. “It was actually way easier than I expected! There were a few questions I wasn’t completely sure about, but most of the cases were things I’d reviewed yesterday.”

As he spoke, his shoulders visibly relaxed.

Katsuki noticed that immediately. He noticed the way Izuku’s face softened, the way the tension in him eased, the way he looked lighter than he had in days.

And for some stupid reason, that made Katsuki feel lighter too.

“I honestly think I did really well.”

“Good.”

The word came out rougher than he meant it to, but it was honest.

Silence settled between them again.

Students continued walking past, chatting loudly as they headed toward the dorms, while the two of them just stood there awkwardly.

Katsuki probably should’ve said something else.

Instead he found himself staring at Izuku’s face, at the faint tiredness still lingering under his eyes, and feeling that same irritating knot in his chest return, except now it wasn’t anger. It was something worse. Something softer. Something he didn’t know what to do with.

“Um..”

Izuku rubbed the back of his neck.

“I—I wanted to apologize.”

Katsuki looked at him.

Izuku laughed awkwardly, scratching at his cheek. “I’ve kind of wanted to for a few days now.”

“I figured.” Katsuki said sarcastically..

“I just..” He smiled sheepishly. “I didn’t really have the courage to come up to you.”

Katsuki raised an eyebrow.

“I thought you were still really mad.”

“I was.” Katsuki answered quickly.

“Yeah.”

“So I kept thinking I’d apologize tomorrow.” Izuku laughed quietly at himself. “And then tomorrow became the next day.”

He looked down at the ground. “I was kind of scared.”

Katsuki didn’t say anything yet.

Because hearing Izuku admit he’d been scared to come to him, did something unpleasant and warm and sharp to Katsuki’s chest. It made him feel guilty. It made him feel stupid. It made him want to tell Izuku not to look so damn apologetic, not when Katsuki had been the one walking around with his own temper and his own stupid pride.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said.”

Izuku took a slow breath. “You were right.” He looked back up at Katsuki.

“I wasn’t taking care of myself.” He smiled, a little embarrassed. “I guess I got so caught up trying to become a good doctor that I forgot.. I should probably take care of myself first.”

He rubbed the back of his neck again.

“So..” Izuku bowed his head slightly. “I’m sorry. I’ll do better.”

Katsuki stayed completely silent.

Izuku slowly looked back up. “Kacchan?”

Nothing.

“Did I say something wrong?”

Katsuki still hadn’t answered and his ears had turned noticeably red. His heart was beating way faster than it had any business beating.

The hell…

Why was he reacting like this? It was just an apology.

Just Izuku, standing there and looking at him like he actually cared what Katsuki thought.

Just Izuku, saying he’d listened.

Just Izuku, promising he’d take better care of himself.

So why did all of that make Katsuki feel like his chest had been cracked open and something had been shoved inside?

“Tch.” Katsuki crossed his arms. “You deserved it.”

Izuku blinked.

“You were bein’ an idiot.”

Izuku’s face softened as he laughed, his smile reaching the corner of his eyes now. Katsuki hated how he noticed.

“I know.”

“So I yelled.” Katsuki said, standing his ground.

“Yup.”

“Needed to get it through your thick skull somehow.”

Izuku let out a small laugh. “It worked.”

Katsuki scratched the back of his neck. He could feel the heat still crawling up his face, and it pissed him off that Izuku was the one who’d caused it. Pissed him off even more that he didn’t want to take any of it back.

“I probably could’ve handled it better.”

The words came out rough, like they had to fight their way past his throat. It was about as close to an apology as Bakugo Katsuki had ever managed.

And the second it left his mouth, he felt exposed. Too exposed.

Izuku’s smile softened immediately. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me.”

“I’m still going to.”

“Tch.”

Another quiet silence settled between them, but this one didn’t feel awkward anymore. It felt.. different.

Easier.

Like something heavy had finally shifted out of the way, leaving Katsuki with room to breathe again.

Izuku rocked slightly on his heels, tucking his hands behind his back, before smiling again.

“Soooo..” He looked at Katsuki hopefully. “Are we okay?”

Katsuki pretended to think about it.

“Depends.”

Izuku’s jaw dropped. “What?”

“It depends.”

“Kacchan!”

“I don’t know.”

“I apologized!”

“You did.”

“So what else am I missing?” Izuku groaned dramatically, slouching over.

Katsuki watched him pout for another second.

Then a short laugh escaped him. It surprised both of them.

“You laughed.”

“I didn’t.”

“You totally did!”

“Shut up.”

Izuku grinned.

“There you are.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes. “You’re still annoying.”

“But we’re okay?”

“No.”

“Kacchaannn!”

—

The next week, the university suspended in-person classes for several days because of unusually heavy rain across the city. Most students celebrated, Katsuki didn’t care. No classes just meant more time to train, catch up on assignments, and sleep.

The afternoon before the break, Katsuki and Izuku ended up talking after their shared lecture again. Somehow, the conversation drifted towards anime.

“I still think the original All Might series is better.” Katsuki said, slinging his backpack over one shoulder.

Izuku stopped walking so fast it was almost comical. “You watch All Might?”

Katsuki frowned. “Uh, yeah.”

“The All Might anime?”

“Yeah.”

“The original? The first six seasons?”

“..yeah.”

Izuku stared at him like Katsuki had just revealed he’d grown a third arm. “Kacchan.”

“What?”

“You’ve seen all of it?”

“Obviously.”

Izuku grabbed both of Katsuki’s shoulders. “Oh my gosh.”

Katsuki grimaced and peeled his hands off, though the brief contact lingered in a way that was annoyingly noticeable. “Tch. Relax.”

“But the newest season just finished last month, and the studio released the twenty-four-episode remake yesterday!”

“I know.”

“You were going to watch it?”

“Yeah.”

Izuku looked ready to explode right there on the sidewalk. His whole face had gone bright with excitement, eyes shining so hard Katsuki had to look away for half a second before he got distracted by it. “Watch it with me!”

Katsuki blinked. “What?”

“The remake. They reanimated everything, and the fight scenes look incredible. I heard they added a bunch of scenes that weren’t in the original. We should watch it together.”

Katsuki shrugged, trying very hard not to think about how excited Izuku looked. It was stupidly contagious. “Sure..?”

Izuku blinked. “Really?”

“Why not?”

His face lit up so fast it made Katsuki’s chest do something irritating and unfamiliar, like it had forgotten how to stay normal.

Meanwhile Izuku was bouncing on his heels, his fists balled up infront of his chest and his eyes continued to sparkle. “Tomorrow?” he asked excitedly.

“Fine.”

“Five-thirty?”

“Works.”

Izuku grinned. “Can we do at yours? My room’s a mess..”

Katsuki snorted. “My place.”

Izuku jumped, “Yay!”

—

They’d agreed on five-thirty.

Izuku showed up at five.

He stood outside Katsuki’s dorm, then stared at the door for a second too long, then lifted his hand and knocked.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Nothing.

Izuku swallowed. He shifted his weight, glanced down the hallway, then knocked again, harder this time. For a moment, there was only silence.

Then, from inside, came a muffled thump, followed by a long, irritated groan.

Heavy footsteps crossed the room, then a lock clicked. The door cracked open slowly, and Katsuki looked like he’d been dragged out of sleep by force.

His eyes were barely open, crimson irises still clouded with exhaustion. His ash-blond hair was a complete disaster, sticking up in every direction like he’d rolled straight out of bed and lost a fight with his pillow. He rubbed one eye with the back of his hand, jaw tight with annoyance, and let out another yawn before finally focusing on the person standing in front of him.

“Deku?”

Izuku forgot how to breathe.

Katsuki wasn’t wearing a shirt. Just a pair of gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips, the waistband of his underwear peaking out. His shoulders looked broader than Izuku remembered, his arms defined from years of training, and the lines of muscle across his chest and stomach were impossible to ignore.

Combined with the messy bed hair, the sleepy, half-lidded expression, the rough, low and raspy voice that still sounded thick with sleep..

Oh no.

Izuku’s brain short-circuited so hard it felt like sparks went off behind his eyes.

“Hi,” he managed, it came out tiny.

Katsuki frowned immediately. “Why’re you here?”

Izuku opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Katsuki’s brow twitched.

“Nerd?” His voice was rougher now.

Izuku blinked hard, trying to force his thoughts back into a straight line.

“H—Huh?”

“I asked why you’re here.”

“Oh!”

Right. Words. Conversation. Normal human behavior.

“Um— We— We were gonna watch All Might!”

Katsuki stared at him for a second, then glanced over his shoulder toward the clock on the wall. “What time is it?”

Izuku fumbled for his phone and checked the screen with shaking fingers.

“..five.”

Katsuki stared.

Izuku stared back.

“We said five-thirty.”

Izuku looked down at his phone again, as if it might have changed out of pity. “Oh.” His face went hot. “I thought.. showing up a little early would be okay.”

“You woke me up.”

“Sorry.”

“I was takin’ a nap.”

“Sorry.”

Katsuki exhaled sharply through his nose, clearly fighting the urge to slam the door in his face. Instead, he stepped back and jerked his head inside.

“Tch. Get in.”

Izuku nearly tripped over himself getting through the doorway.

“Thanks.”

The door shut behind him with a solid click, the sound made his shoulders jump. Katsuki stretched both arms over his head with another long yawn, and Izuku immediately made the mistake of looking up.

His shirtless back flexed with the movement, broad shoulders pulling taut before easing again. The muscles in his arms shifted under his skin, and for one horrifying second Izuku’s brain supplied absolutely no useful information at all. His hair was still a mess from sleep, his expression still half-grumpy and half-unconscious, and somehow that made everything worse.

Stop looking.

Stop looking.

Stop looking.

Izuku’s eyes betrayed him and drifted right back.

Why does he look so—

His face burned.

He’s just shirtless, lots of guys are shirtless. You’ve literally been to public pools before.

This is normal.

Then why is your heart doing that?

“Kacchan…”

“Hm?”

Izuku froze.

Katsuki was still stretching, still half-asleep, but his attention had already sharpened enough to notice the hesitation in Izuku’s voice.

“Nothing.”

Katsuki lowered his arms and glanced over and Izuku immediately looked away so fast it was probably suspicious.

A beat passed.

Then another.

Katsuki’s gaze narrowed slightly, placing his hands on his hips as he observed Izuku. He could feel it. He could feel Katsuki looking at him, waiting, measuring.

And then—

“Oi.”

Izuku nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Yeah?”

“The hell’s wrong with you?”

“N—Nothing.”

Katsuki’s eyes flicked over him, sharp even through the sleep still clinging to his face.

“You sure?”

“Yep.”

The silence stretched so long that Izuku could practically hear his own heartbeat. Then Katsuki looked down at himself. Then back at Izuku.

A slow, dangerous grin spread across his face “You never seen a shirtless guy before?”

Izuku’s eyes went wide, heat immediately rushed to his face. “I—I have!” He raised his hands and waved them around, as if in denial of finding Bakugo Katsuki incredibly hot.

“Then quit lookin’ at me like that.”

“I’m not looking!”

“Tch.”

He yanked open the small closet beside his bed, ruffled through the hanging clothes with one impatient swipe, grabbed the first black t-shirt his hand hit, and jerked it over his head in one quick motion.

“There.”

Izuku let out the biggest sigh of relief and actually slumped a little where he stood.

Katsuki snatched his laptop off the desk, turned on his heel, and climbed onto the bed in one smooth motion before leaning back against the wall with a thud.

“You comin’ or what?”

Izuku hesitated.

“On the bed?”

Katsuki shot him a look like he’d just asked whether the sky was blue or not.

“Where else?”

“The floor?”

“It’s uncomfortable. You can sit on the floor if you want.”

“I’ll choose the bed!”

Izuku hurried over and climbed onto the mattress, carefully lowering himself down and scooting as far away as he thought was polite.

Katsuki immediately noticed.

He tilted his head, then jabbed a finger toward the empty space between them. “Why’re you sittin’ all the way over there?”

“I—I thought…”

“The laptop’s here, idiot.”

“Oh.”

Flushing, Izuku scooted closer in a series of awkward little shuffles until they were sitting shoulder-to-shoulder, backs pressed to the headboard as the mattress dipped under their combined weight.

The movement jostled them both slightly. Somehow, that made it feel even more intimate. Neither of them said anything about it.

Katsuki set the laptop across his legs, flipped it open, and hit play. The opening theme kicked in, bright and loud, and before the logo had even faded—

“Oh! They changed the animation already!”

Katsuki turned his head toward the sudden outburst. “And look! They kept the original soundtrack but remastered it!”

His eye twitched.

“I heard Studio Bones hired—”

“Deku.” Katsuki paused it with a quick press of the space button.

“Hm?” Izuku looked over towards Katsuki, who was scowling.

“Shut up.”

Izuku clapped both hands over his mouth like he could physically hold the commentary in. “Sorry!”

Katsuki tsked and rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to the anime as he pressed the space button again. The anime rolled on and the first scene was shown. Izuku lasted approximately thirty seconds of silence before his outburst again.

“Oh my gosh, they kept this scene! The lighting’s so much better! They even added his cape from the manga cover—”

“Deku.”

“..sorry.”

Another minute passed.

“Kacchan, look!”

“I’m lookin’.”

“No, but look at the background! They animated the city differently! And that guy wasn’t even in the original ver—”

Izuku’s rambling was cut off by Katsuki’s loud, annoyed groan as he pressed the space button again, a little too aggressively. He ran a hand through his hair, turning toward Izuku with a glare that should’ve been intimidating if it weren’t for the faint flush creeping up the back of his neck.

“Will you shut the fuck up?!”

Izuku gave a cheeky, apologetic smile. “..sorry.”

Silence.

“The voice acting sounds a little differ—”

“Deku.”

“Sorry! I just—”

“I know.”

“It’s just really goo—”

“I know.”

“I’ll stop.”

They went back to watching in silence. Then twenty seconds later—

“Oh!”

Katsuki let out a long, suffering sigh that sounded like it came from the depths of his soul. Then, without warning, he reached over.

His arm slid around the back of Izuku’s neck in one swift motion, forearm settling across the top of his shoulders before Izuku even had time to process what was happening.

And then he yanked.

“H—Huh—?!”

The world lurched sideways as Katsuki hauled him in with surprising ease, pulling him off balance and tucking him against his side in a firm, effortless headlock. Izuku’s hands flew up on instinct, catching at Katsuki’s wrist.

Katsuki tightened just enough to keep him there, not enough to hurt, just enough that Izuku could feel every point of contact all at once and also just enough to shut him up for good.

The hard line of Katsuki’s forearm against the back of his neck, the steady pressure of his bicep against Izuku’s cheek, the warmth of his side pressed flush to Izuku’s shoulder and the way their bodies pressed against each other, it was all too much for poor Izuku.

“There.”

“K—Kacchan!” Izuku yelped.

“You done?”

Izuku tapped against Katsuki’s big arms, trying to wiggle himself out of his grasp, but ultimately failing to do so. “I can’t breathe!”

“You’re gonna be fine.”

“I wasn’t even talking that much!”

“Bullshit.”

Izuku grabbed onto Katsuki’s forearm more from shock than anything else, fingers curling around the sleeve as his whole body went rigid.

His brain short-circuited.

He’s…

He’s really close.

Too close.

Their shoulders were pressed together. Katsuki’s arm was around him. Izuku could feel the heat of him through the fabric of his shirt, the steady pressure of his grip, the faint shift of muscle every time Katsuki adjusted his hold to keep him from wriggling away.

And Katsuki wasn’t even looking at him.

He was still watching the screen, expression irritated and completely unbothered, like holding Izuku in place was the most natural thing in the world. That somehow made it worse.

Izuku’s face went hot enough to rival a furnace.

“O—Okay..”

“What?”

“I’ll shut up..”

“Louder.”

“I’ll shut up!”

“Damn right.”

Katsuki gave him one last squeeze. It was brief, firm, almost absentminded and Izuku made a tiny, strangled noise before going completely still.

Only then did Katsuki loosen his grip just enough for Izuku to sit normally again, though his arm stayed draped lazily across the back of the bed behind him for another second before he finally pulled it away.

The loss of contact was immediate and somehow even more noticeable than the touch itself.

Izuku didn’t trust himself to look at him anymore. He sat very still, hands clenched in his lap, eyes locked on the screen like it might save him.

Well, true to his word, Izuku actually shut up. There were some occasional excited gasps, but it wasn’t overdramatic, he still pointed out tiny details in the background, but less and he didn’t explain why a scene was different from the original anymore.

The room fell surprisingly quiet, save for the voices coming from Katsuki’s laptop and the occasional rumble of rain tapping against the dorm window.

At first, Katsuki didn’t know what to do with the silence.

It should’ve been a relief.

It was a relief.

He’d wanted this, hadn’t he? Wanted to watch without getting interrupted every thirty seconds, wanted to actually hear the dialogue without some nerdy commentary cutting in over it. So why did the quiet feel so strange?

Katsuki shoved the thought away immediately.

Good.

Finally.

He could actually watch the damn show in peace. The remake was honestly pretty good, better than he’d expected. The animation was clean, the fights looked incredible, and even Katsuki had to admit some of the added scenes were worth it.

He found himself getting pulled in faster than he’d expected, his attention sharpening with every episode. The action was satisfying, the pacing solid, and the soundtrack hit harder than it had any right to.

Every now and then, he’d glance sideways out of habit, almost expecting another one of Izuku’s excited interruptions, but there was only silence. Izuku was also quick to focus on the anime.

He didn’t know why the absence of Izuku’s voice kept catching at him like that, like something had been taken out of the room and left a faint hollow behind. Katsuki told himself he didn’t care. He told himself he liked it better this way.

The sky outside slowly darkened until the only light left in the room came from the laptop screen. Around ten, Katsuki got up to grab drinks from the mini fridge. Izuku barely moved, only quietly thanking him before taking the bottle of water with a small smile.

Then they kept watching.

Around eleven-thirty, Katsuki was completely invested. He leaned forward during every fight scene, occasionally clicking his tongue whenever they changed something from the original. Once or twice, he even found himself quietly agreeing with changes Izuku would’ve probably spent five minutes rambling about.

A few minutes later, somewhere around midnight, Izuku covered a yawn with the back of his hand. It was small and quiet, barely noticeable. But Katsuki noticed anyway.

He noticed the way Izuku’s shoulders dipped just a little after it, the way his posture lost some of its usual stiffness. He noticed because he was sitting close enough to see it, close enough that the tiredness in Izuku’s face was impossible to miss once he looked.

The final arc had started, and there was no way he was missing it now. By the time the credits for the twenty-fourth episode rolled, the clock on Katsuki’s nightstand read 1:03 AM.

“Hm.”

He leaned back against the headboard, stretching his shoulders. His body felt stiff from sitting too long, but his mind was still buzzing with the last episode, still half in the fight scenes and half in the lingering satisfaction of having watched the whole thing uninterrupted.

“That wasn’t bad.”

He turned his head, ready to see Izuku explode with opinions. Ready for the usual bright-eyed analysis, the rapid-fire commentary, the way Izuku always seemed to have ten thoughts at once and no filter between them.

Instead, Izuku was asleep.

Completely, just knocked out of it. His head tilted against the headboard at an awkward angle, one hand still resting loosely in his lap. His breathing was slow and steady, his chest rising and falling so evenly it was obvious he’d been out for a while.

Katsuki stared. For a second, his brain just refused to process it.

“Seriously?”

The words came out quieter than usual.

“You slept through the ending?”

No response.

“Deku.”

He clicked his tongue.

“Tch.”

He reached over instinctively, intending to shove Izuku’s shoulder awake, but his hand stopped halfway. He looked at Izuku again, this time, really looked. And something in his chest tightened in a way he didn’t like at all. For the first time, Izuku looked..

Rested.

There wasn’t that slight crease between his brows that always appeared whenever he was studying. His shoulders weren’t tense, he wasn’t muttering facts under his breath. He just looked peaceful. Soft, in a way Katsuki wasn’t used to seeing. He looked unguarded, vulnerable.

Like all the constant motion and noise that usually seemed to follow Izuku had finally gone still for once.

Katsuki slowly lowered his hand.

He couldn’t do it.

He couldn’t wake him up.

The realization sat in his chest with annoying weight, making him feel strangely protective and irritated at the same time. Protective, because Izuku looked too damn tired to be dragged back into consciousness just for Katsuki’s convenience. Irritated, because he didn’t know why that mattered so much to him.

Another quiet sigh escaped through his nose.

“Idiot.”

His gaze drifted toward the bedside clock. One in the morning. Maybe Izuku really hadn’t been sleeping much, or hadn’t been sleeping well.

The thought annoyed him.

Because now that he was looking at him properly, Katsuki could see it. The faint exhaustion in the slackness of Izuku’s face. The way his body had gone completely still the second he’d fallen asleep, like he’d been holding himself together all day and finally run out of strength.

Why was he sitting here worrying about whether the nerd had been getting enough sleep? Why did he care?

A week ago he’d been ready to throttle him in the library, now he was debating whether waking him up was too mean. The contradiction made his jaw tighten.

“Tch.”

Annoyed, Katsuki stood up a little too quickly. He grabbed the folded blanket from the foot of the bed before turning back. Then, with far more force than necessary, he threw the blanket over Izuku, landing lopsided across his shoulders.

“There.”

Satisfied enough, Katsuki sat back down at the edge of the bed with a quiet huff. He rested his elbows on his knees, staring at the rain outside for a moment.

Now what?

He wasn’t about to kick Izuku out, definitely not at one in the morning, but he wasn’t gonna sleep on the floor either. The thought alone made him grimace.

He should probably just wait until Izuku woke up on his own. That would be the sensible thing. The easy thing. The thing that didn’t involve Katsuki thinking too hard about the fact that Izuku was asleep in his room, on his bed, wrapped in his blanket like he belonged there.

A moment of silence passed before Katsuki glanced back over his shoulder.

Izuku hadn’t moved. If anything, he’d somehow gotten even more comfortable. His head had tipped slightly to one side, disappearing further into the blanket, and one arm had unconsciously hugged a pillow close to his chest.

Katsuki stared at him for a second longer than he meant to.

“Little shit, sleepin’ so damn comfortably on my bed.”

He clicked his tongue again. Yet..

He couldn’t look away.

There was something infuriating about how easy it looked for Izuku to fall asleep like that. Like he trusted the room. Like he trusted Katsuki. Like he didn’t have a single worry left in the world for the moment. And that thought hit Katsuki harder than he wanted it to.

Because trust wasn’t something he was used to being handed so casually. Izuku had done it without hesitation. Katsuki could feel, with irritating clarity, how careful he suddenly wanted to be with that trust.

Without really thinking about it, Katsuki reached over. His fingers disappeared into the messy curls resting against Izuku’s forehead.

Soft.

Way softer than he’d expected.

The sensation startled him more than it should have. His brows drew together, his chest tightening with a strange, almost disbelieving feeling. Izuku’s hair was warm, a little tangled, and absurdly gentle under his fingertips.

Katsuki had expected something rougher. Something more like the rest of him, messy, stubborn, impossible to deal with. Instead, the strands slid easily between his fingers, fine and springy, and the contrast made his throat feel tight for no reason he wanted to examine too closely.

His hand moved once and then again, slowly brushing through Izuku’s hair. The motion was careful without Katsuki meaning it to be. Almost absentminded, almost tender. And that was the part that made his stomach twist.

He didn’t know why he kept doing it, didn’t know why his hand didn’t pull away the second he realized what he was doing. Maybe because there was something deeply unsettling about how natural it felt.

His fingers combed through the curls near Izuku’s temple, then drifted back again, separating a few strands that had fallen across his forehead. The movement was slow enough that he could feel every little shift, every tiny spring of hair against his skin. It should’ve been nothing, it should’ve been annoying.

Instead, it made him painfully aware of the shape of Izuku’s face in sleep, of the faint, steady rhythm of his breathing and of the fact that he was touching him at all.

Katsuki’s chest felt tight in a way that wasn’t unpleasant exactly, just unfamiliar enough to make him uneasy. There was a strange warmth under his ribs, something low and stubborn that he didn’t have a name for and didn’t want one. It made him feel protective in a way he didn’t know what to do with. It made him want to keep Izuku asleep, keep him quiet, keep him from looking so tired and so damn vulnerable all at once.

And that was ridiculous, Izuku was Izuku. Annoying, loud, too earnest for his own good. Not fragile, he was hardworking and determined.

But asleep like this, with his face slack and his breathing even, he looked younger somehow. Less like the relentless, overthinking nerd who never seemed to stop moving and more like someone Katsuki could actually imagine letting his guard down around.

That thought made his fingers slow.

Then stop.

Only after a few seconds did Katsuki realize what he was doing. His hand froze.

He stared at his own fingers like they’d betrayed him. His face felt hot all of a sudden, though he refused to acknowledge that either.

“..what the hell is wrong with me?”

Why had he done that?

It hadn’t even been a conscious decision.

His hand had simply reached out and started combing through Izuku’s hair like it belonged there, like it had always known where to go. The thought made heat crawl up the back of his neck.

Tch.

He dragged a hand down his face. This was stupid, he was overthinking it. That was all. They were only friends and friends did.. whatever.

He’d covered the idiot with a blanket because it was cold and he hadn’t wanted to wake him at one in the morning because it would bother Izuku.

His chest felt tight, and his pulse was being a pain in the ass, and he hated how careful he’d been with the blanket, like the smallest movement might disturb something fragile.

Katsuki gave a single sharp nod to himself.

Exactly.

He wasn’t going soft, wasn’t catching feelings. Nothing weird was happening and he could prove it.

He glanced over at Izuku, still dead asleep and completely oblivious to the crisis happening two feet away. The sight of him all curled up and peaceful made something in Katsuki’s chest pinch so suddenly he almost scowled at it. Katsuki looked away too fast.

Idiot. He swallowed.

He could sleep next to him just fine. It was casual.

They were friends.

Normal.

With one last look, Katsuki reached over and closed the laptop, setting it carefully on his desk.

The soft glow from the screen vanished, and the darkness deepened at once. Outside, rain tapped steadily against the window in a restless, uneven rhythm, each drop ticking softly against the glass before sliding down in silver trails. The air carried that damp, cool smell that always came with a storm, faintly earthy and clean.

He switched off the desk lamp.

Now the room was almost entirely dark, except for the weak orange wash of streetlights bleeding through the curtains in thin, blurred stripes.

Katsuki climbed back onto the bed, careful not to jostle Izuku awake. The mattress dipped under his weight with a quiet creak. Izuku shifted in his sleep, a small rustle of fabric and blanket.

Katsuki froze immediately.

His breath caught in his throat, and for one stupid second he was convinced he’d ruined everything by moving too much. His shoulders locked. His hand hovered uselessly over the blanket before he forced it down.

Then Izuku settled again.

Katsuki let out the breath he’d been holding.

Idiot.

He lay down on the other side of the bed and deliberately rolled onto his side, facing away from Izuku.

There.

Problem solved.

Out of sight, out of mind.

He grabbed his phone off the nightstand and unlocked it.

Instagram.

He scrolled past a gym reel, then paused on some idiot showing off a deadlift before flicking onward without really seeing any of it. The motion was automatic, his thumb moving while his thoughts stayed stubbornly fixed somewhere else.

His brain didn’t follow.

Katsuki clicked his tongue and kept scrolling.

Quit thinking about him.

Another post, another video. None of it registered.

His thumb kept flicking, but the screen might as well have been blank. All he could feel was the space behind him, the warmth still lingering in the blankets, the memory of Izuku’s hair slipping through his fingers. His chest felt too full, too tight, like something was pressing against it from the inside and refusing to move.

He locked his phone and tossed it onto the nightstand. This was ridiculous.

He closed his eyes.

Just go to sleep.

Tomorrow they’d probably argue over something stupid again. He could go to the gym, or study, everything would be normal.

Just..

Normal.

He kept his face turned away, jaw clenched hard enough to ache, as if that alone could force his thoughts into place. The rain kept falling. The room stayed dark. Izuku stayed behind him.

With that final thought, the rain’s steady hush slowly swallowed the room, softening the edges of everything until even the air seemed to blur.

Before long..

Katsuki fell asleep.

—

Katsuki didn’t know how long he’d been asleep.

The room was dark enough that the furniture had melted into one heavy, shapeless blur. Rain ticked steadily against the window in a soft, restless rhythm, and the air in the dorm room was warm beneath the blanket, thick with sleep.

For a few hazy seconds, he was too deep in that half-dreaming state to think about anything at all.

Then something latched onto him.

Two arms suddenly locked around his waist from behind, tight enough to jolt him halfway out of sleep. A body pressed against his back, warm and solid and far too close, the weight of it shifting the mattress beneath him.

Warm.

Soft.

“Mm.”

For one blissfully confused second, his half-asleep brain didn’t process it. His body went still, caught between sleep and waking, his mind too fogged to make sense of the sudden contact.

Then—

“AHHHH—!”

The scream tore through the room.

Katsuki shot upright so fast the mattress bounced under him, his shoulder slamming into his bedside table and nearly cracking his head on the headboard in the process.

“THE FUCK?!”

His heart slammed against his ribs as he whipped his head toward Izuku. Izuku was plastered against the wall, eyes blown wide in pure terror, hair sticking up like he’d been struck by lightning, one hand still tangled in the blanket like he’d tried to use it as a shield.

“K—KACCHAN?!”

“WHY THE HELL ARE YOU SCREAMIN’?!”

“I—”

Izuku jerked his head around in frantic little motions, taking in the dark room in pieces. The unfamiliar bed. The rumpled blanket twisted around his legs. The rain tapping against the window. The faint glow of the alarm clock on the nightstand, its red numbers burning through the dark.

Then his eyes snapped back to Katsuki.

“I…”

His face went hot so fast it felt like it might catch fire, and he was absurdly grateful for the dark.

“..I fell asleep.”

Katsuki just stared at him, chest still heaving from the shock, hair sticking up in every direction.

“Yeah, no fucking shit, dumb Deku.”

Izuku made a strangled noise and buried his face in both hands, elbows tucked tight against his sides like he wanted to fold in on himself and disappear.

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry.”

Katsuki was still trying to recover from having his eardrums blown out.

“You screamed right in my damn ear!”

“I know!”

“The hell was that for?!”

“I forgot where I was!” Izuku groaned into his hands, shoulders curling inward. “I’m sorry!”

“You damn near gave me a heart attack!”

“I know!”

Katsuki dragged a hand down his face, glaring at him through the dark. His pulse was still pounding hard enough to make his temples throb, and beneath the irritation there was something else too—something hot and startled and embarrassingly aware of how close Izuku had been. Izuku peeked at him through his fingers, mortified, ears burning.

The room went quiet for a second.

Only the rain could be heard now, tapping steadily against the glass, and the faint hum of the air conditioner somewhere in the walls.

Izuku lowered his hands and rubbed the back of his neck, still looking like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole.

“..I should probably go.”

Izuku gave a nervous little laugh and pushed himself up on one elbow. “I woke you up. Sorry, Kacchan.”

He looked anywhere except at Katsuki.

“I’ll just head back.”

He swung his legs toward the edge of the bed and got off quickly, bouncing on his feet like he was trying to outrun his own embarrassment.

Katsuki watched him for a second, something tight and uncomfortable twisting in his chest. He told himself he was just annoyed. That he wanted his bed back. That he didn’t feel like dealing with Izuku stumbling around half-asleep in the hallway at four in the morning.

He lay back down and grabbed the blanket Izuku had discarded, pulling it around himself.

…good.

Bed to myself again, finally.

Little shit can go back to wherever he came from.

Katsuki clicked his tongue.

“Stay.”

The word left his mouth before he even realized he’d said it.

Izuku froze.

“Huh?”

Katsuki frowned at himself.

The hell?

He hadn’t meant to say that. He glanced at the clock on his nightstand. The red numbers glowed back at him—4:17 AM.

“Four in the morning.”

Izuku hesitated. “I… I can go.”

Katsuki tsked. “You’re gonna trip over your own feet and die in the hall.”

Izuku blinked at him.

“It’s dark as hell out there.” His voice came out rough, almost convincing, almost.

Izuku looked toward the door, then back at him. “I can be careful!”

“Yeah, sure.”

Izuku sighed, fiddling with his fingers. “I really don’t wanna bother you.”

“You already did.”

Izuku winced. “Right.”

“Just stay.”

Izuku stared at him for a second, like he was trying to figure out if Katsuki was serious or if this was some kind of trap. “Are you sure?”

Katsuki clicked his tongue.

“Does it look like I’m joking?”

Izuku’s shoulders loosened a little, the tension in his posture easing by degrees. Relief flickered across his face so quickly it almost looked like he was afraid to trust it.

“Okay.”

Katsuki scooted over near the wall, leaving enough space for both of them to sleep comfortably. Izuku hesitantly and slowly climbed under the blanket again, moving like he was afraid of setting off another alarm. He tucked himself in carefully, pulling the blanket up to his chest and lying as still as possible.

The room settled. The rain kept tapping at the window.

Izuku lay stiffly on his back for a moment, staring up into the dark, then finally let out a breath and closed his eyes.

Katsuki stared at the wall for a second, jaw tight.

“Go to sleep.”

Izuku cracked one eye open.

“..okay.”

A tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth before he turned his face into the pillow.

The room fell quiet again as Izuku squeezed his eyes shut.

Go to sleep.

Easy.

Simple.

Except he was lying in Katsuki’s bed, next to him, in the middle of the night.

His face slowly started heating up again beneath the blanket, the warmth creeping up his neck and into his cheeks.

And beside him, Katsuki lay rigid for a moment longer than he wanted to admit, staring into the dark with his jaw clenched, acutely aware of every inch of space between them and every inch he wished there wasn’t.

Morning soon came, as Katsuki was woken up to rustling sounds.

His eyes stayed closed as he frowned into his pillow, still tangled in that heavy, half-dreaming state where everything felt distant and slow. He didn’t want to move, didn’t want to think. His body felt warm beneath the blankets, his limbs stubbornly uncooperative, like they belonged to someone else.

He cracked one eye open.

The room was brighter than it had been a few hours ago, gray morning light filtering through the curtains. The rain had eased into a light drizzle, leaving the room calm and unusually quiet.

Izuku stood by the door, rubbing his eyes and yawning, already about to leave. He turned when he noticed Katsuki stirring.

“Kacchan!” A small smile spread across his face. “Sorry. Did I wake you?”

Katsuki only grunted in response, the sound muffled and rough from sleep. He shifted his face deeper into the pillow, eyelids drooping again almost immediately.

“Hm.” His voice was thick and scratchy, barely more than a sleepy murmur.

Izuku laughed quietly. “I was trying to be quiet.”

Katsuki blinked at him once, slowly and with visible effort, before letting his eyes close again. For a second it looked like he might drift right back off, his breathing evening out as his face relaxed into the pillow.

“Leavin’?” The words were slurred at the edges, dragged out by sleep.

“Yeah.” Izuku felt his cheeks heat up from the raspy edge of Katsuki’s morning voice. “I figured I’d let you sleep.”

Katsuki made a faint noise in the back of his throat, something between acknowledgment and a yawn he didn’t quite finish.

“Mm.”

His hand twitched under the blanket, then settled again.

Izuku smiled a little sheepishly. “Thanks for letting me stay.”

Katsuki’s brow furrowed faintly, “Hm?”

“I had a lot of fun last night.”

Another quiet hum. “Mm.” The response was automatic, barely conscious.

“I’ll make sure I don’t accidentally fall asleep next time.”

“Mhm.”

“And..” Izuku rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry again for screaming.”

Katsuki’s face remained buried in the pillow. He gave a tiny, sluggish nod that was more of a dip of his forehead than anything else.

“Mm.”

It was becoming increasingly obvious that Katsuki wasn’t actually awake enough to have a conversation.

Izuku just smiled. He looked different. Without the usual scowl and without the constant furrow in his brows.

His expression had gone soft with sleep, his mouth perfectly shut. His hair was even messier than usual from sleeping, sticking out while half his face remained buried in the pillow. Every few seconds, he seemed to fight the urge to sink back under, his eyelids fluttering.

Izuku didn’t really think about it. He just walked back over to the bed, reached out, and ruffled Katsuki’s hair in one quick, playful motion.

“Bye, Kacchan!”

Then he turned and left.

The door clicked shut.

Silence.

A few seconds later, Katsuki’s eyes slowly opened. He blinked at the ceiling, still looking dazed and deeply offended by the concept of morning. He’d realized too late on what Izuku did. He was confused, still in and out of sleep. He didn’t fully register the interaction, so he carefully closed his eyes once more and drifted off to sleep.

The next day passed quietly and the rain never really stopped. It eased into a drizzle, then picked back up by afternoon, clouds hanging low over campus until the entire university looked gray. With classes suspended for the rest of the week, there wasn’t much to do besides stay inside.

By the time night rolled around, Izuku had spent far too much time thinking about the previous evening.

His thoughts kept drifting back to Katsuki’s dorm, to the movie marathon, to falling asleep, to waking up in Katsuki’s bed, to accidentally hugging him.

Izuku buried his face in his pillow with a groan.

“Why am I like this..?”

He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. Despite how embarrassing the whole thing had been, he couldn’t stop smiling.

He’d expected Katsuki to kick him out the second he’d woken him up. Instead, Katsuki had let him stay. He’d complained, called him names, made fun of him, but underneath all of that, he still told him to stay.

Izuku smiled to himself.

“He’s nice.”

The words slipped out before he could stop them.

Well, nice wasn’t exactly the right word. Katsuki wasn’t gentle. He wasn’t soft. He definitely wasn’t the type to comfort someone with kind words. He was blunt, loud, and mean sometimes. He rolled his eyes more than he smiled and insulted Izuku at least once every conversation.

But whenever it actually mattered, Katsuki always showed up.

A juice box after a long lecture, helping him in the gym, giving him his scarf without making a big deal out of it, yelling at him because he was worried, letting him stay the night.

The more Izuku thought about it, the more he realized Katsuki’s actions almost never matched his words.

A warm feeling spread through his chest. Somewhere along the way, he’d stopped looking forward to lectures and started looking forward to seeing Katsuki. He liked walking across campus together, liked studying together, liked arguing over dumb things.

Even getting teased wasn’t nearly as annoying as it probably should’ve been, because every conversation somehow ended with Katsuki sticking around anyway.

Then, without warning, he remembered yesterday morning. The way Katsuki had looked half-buried in his pillow, hair sticking up everywhere, still too sleepy to properly answer him.

And how unbelievably soft his hair had been beneath Izuku’s fingers.

Izuku’s ears slowly turned pink.

Because if he was being honest, it hadn’t just been the hair, it was everything. The way Katsuki had trusted him enough to sleep beside him and the way he’d told him to stay without even thinking.

The way being around him somehow felt comfortable.

Safe.

Izuku smiled into his pillow.

I really like spending time with him.

The realization made his chest feel strangely light. At the same time, it scared him a little. Because he wasn’t sure when that had happened.

Or when Katsuki had become the first person he wanted to tell things to.

—

A few more days passed.

Campus remained closed. The storm had settled into a steady, miserable rain, turning the walkways slick and the windows gray. Everyone was still stuck in video lectures instead of crowded classrooms, staring at screens until their eyes burned. Katsuki didn’t mind it much. The gym was still open, and that was enough.

Today wasn’t any different. The barbell hit the rack with a heavy metallic clang as Katsuki let out a sharp breath and sat up on the bench. He rolled his shoulders once before snatching up his water bottle.

He tipped his head back and drank hard, sweat still sliding down the side of his neck.

“You good?”

Kirishima stood a few feet away, towel slung over one shoulder, watching him with that easy, concerned look he always got when he thought Katsuki was being weird

“Ah?”

“You’ve been zoning out all afternoon.”

“I ain’t zonin’ out.” Katsuki answered simply, putting the lid back on his water bottle.

“You kinda are.”

Katsuki clicked his tongue and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “‘m fine, mind your own business.”

Kirishima didn’t look convinced.

He’d watched Katsuki load the wrong weight onto the bar earlier, then stare at it like it had personally offended him before fixing it. He’d watched him lose count halfway through a set and nearly rack the thing too early. He’d watched him pause between reps long enough to just glare at the wall.

That wasn’t normal.

“You thinking about exams?”

“No.”

“Biochem assignment?”

“No.”

“Family?”

“For the love of God, just shut up will you?” Katsuki whipped his head towards Kirishima with a deep scowl.

Kirishima scratched the back of his neck, then tilted his head.

“Izuku?”

The question came out so casually, catching Katsuki off guard. Kirishima could visibly see the gears on Katsuki’s head turning. Katsuki’s fingers tightened around the water bottle just a little too hard, plastic creaking faintly under his grip.

Then Kirishima’s mouth slowly split into a grin. “It’s Midoriya, huh.”

Katsuki looked up, “shut your trap, or I’ll shove this water bottle down your throat.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“You were about to.”

“I wasn’t!”

“You had that face.”

“What face?”

“That stupid face.”

Kirishima laughed, shoulders shaking. “I was just asking.”

“Tch.”

Katsuki grabbed another plate and shoved it onto the bar a little harder than necessary, the metal ringing out sharp and loud. Kirishima leaned against the rack, arms folding over his chest.

“I’ve just never seen you this distracted before.”

“I’m not distracted.”

Kirishima laughed again, bright and unbothered. “Alright, alright.” Then he straightened, like he’d just remembered something important.

“Oh yeah, I almost forgot.”

Katsuki sighed through his nose. “What.”

“A friend from my department’s throwing a party this wee—“

“No.” Katsuki immediately cuts off.

“..I didn’t even finish.”

“Don’t need to.”

“C’mon.”

“No.”

“It’ll be fun!” Kirishima rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling. “Jackson Wang is hosting. You might not know him, but he’s my senior and super popular.”

Katsuki shrugged and reached for his towel “Don’t know him.”

“He’s cool.”

“Don’t care.”

“There’ll be food.”

“I got food.”

“Mmm.. there’ll be people!”

“Worst part.”

Kirishima barked out a laugh. “You’re impossible.”

Katsuki was already reaching for the bar again when Kirishima paused, then added, almost too casually—

“Midoriya’s gonna be there too.”

Katsuki stopped mid-reach. For a second, his hand stayed on the barbell, fingers curled around the cold metal. His jaw shifted once, like he was biting back a response he hadn’t meant to have.

“Why?”

Kirishima shrugged. “I’ll invite him, he’ll definitely agree to it.”

Katsuki narrowed his eyes.

“And? Your point?”

“And Denki’s going, Sero’s going,”

Katsuki stared at him.

Kirishima kept going before he could say anything. “and Shoto said he might show up. Liberal arts major, my friend.”

“So?”

Kirishima grinned like this was the most normal thing in the world. “And many of Izuku’s friends are coming too! Uraraka, Tsuyu, some guy named Iida, great opportunity to meet new people, am I right?”

Katsuki looked away, jaw tightening for no reason he wanted to examine. He knew he hated parties, socializing, but the quick mention of Izuku made him think twice. “Sounds loud.”

“It is.” Kirishima waited, watching him with obvious amusement.

Katsuki dragged a hand down his face, then let out a rough breath. “Fine.”

Kirishima let out a gasp, “really?”

“I’m only goin’ ’cause you’re gonna keep botherin’ me about it.”

“I asked once!”

“Tch.”

“And definitely not because Izuku’s gonna be there?”

Katsuki immediately looked away. His ears felt hot all of a sudden, and he hated that Kirishima was close enough to notice the way his grip had gone a little too tight on the towel.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Kirishima’s grin widened into something downright smug. “Whatever you say, man!”

—

Izuku had just wrapped up his last online lecture of the afternoon.

“And that’ll be all for today’s class. Don’t forget to submit your clinical reflection by Sunday.”

The meeting ended, and his laptop finally went quiet with a soft click. The glow from the screen dimmed, leaving his room bathed in the pale afternoon light slipping through the curtains. Izuku stretched his arms over his head with a tired sigh before flopping backward onto his bed, the mattress giving a small creak beneath him.

“I’m so tired..”

A week of online classes instead of real-life classes had sounded way more fun in theory, but in reality…

It was just eight hours of staring at a screen every day, his eyes dry, his shoulders stiff, and his brain feeling like it had been wrung out.

His phone buzzed on the nightstand, the vibration rattling faintly against the wood.

Kirishima 🦈

yoo midobro

what’re u up to

Izuku quickly replied, rolling onto his side and reaching for the phone.

just finished class!!

whats up??

Almost immediately,

got something to ask u bro!

jackson wang’s throwing a house party tonight

u should come

Izuku blinked.

A party?

He wasn’t exactly against them…

He’d just never really been the type to go. The idea of loud music, crowded rooms, and too many people talking at once usually made him hesitate.

He looked around his room.

His notes were scattered across his desk in messy little piles, one corner of his notebook hanging off the edge. His laundry still wasn’t folded, a half-full basket sitting by the closet. His desk lamp was still on, casting a warm circle of light over everything while the rest of the room stayed quiet and still.

Honestly…

A quiet night didn’t sound too bad.

He typed back.

hmm…

i don’t really know 😭

i’m not much of a party person

Three little dots appeared almost instantly.

bakugou already said yes

Izuku stared at the message, his heart skipped before he could stop it.

Another message popped up.

figured i’d invite u too 

uraraka tsu-chan iida are coming

todoroki too

denki and sero too

starts at 9!!

jackson said dress your best btw 😎

Izuku found himself smiling.

Almost without thinking, his fingers started typing.

okay!!

i’ll come

Kirishima replied immediately.

knew you’d say yes lol

Izuku stared at the conversation for another second before locking his phone. He was going because all of his friends were going. Obviously.

It definitely..

Definitely,

had nothing to do with the fact that Katsuki was going too.

By the time evening rolled around, Izuku was standing in front of his closet with both doors wide open. He had absolutely no idea what people wore to house parties.

He spent the next several minutes pulling out clothes, holding them up, and putting them back again—hoodies that felt too casual, button-ups that felt too formal, oversized shirts that were somehow still not right.

“Why am I thinking so hard about this?”

Because Kacchan was going..?

Izuku immediately covered his face.

He absolutely wasn’t.

He was just going to a party. With friends. That’s all.

Still..

His eyes wandered back to his closet. He reached out once more into his closet, hands ruffling the inside, just like how a teenage girl would do after being invited out on a date by her crush. Though, twenty minutes later, he gave up.

Time was ticking and he couldn’t afford to be late, so he just threw on anoversized dark green t-shirt and some loose light-wash baggy jeans. Simple and comfortable.

He stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the hem of his shirt before running a hand through his curls.

“Good enough.”

His phone buzzed.

Kirishima 🦈

we’re outside midobro!!

Izuku quickly grabbed his wallet, phone, and keys before practically jogging downstairs. The rain had finally settled into a light drizzle, the cool evening air carrying the smell of wet pavement.

A black SUV, Kirishima as the driver, was parked just outside the dorm entrance, the passenger window rolled down.

“There he is!” Kirishima called.

Izuku hurried over with a smile. “Sorry! Did I make you guys wait?”

“Nah.” Kirishima pointed toward the back seats, “C’mon!”

Izuku climbed in, and the first person he noticed was Katsuki. Of course.

He was sitting by the window, one arm casually draped across the door. A plain black shirt, a jacket draped over his shoulder, dark jeans, and a flashy belt somehow made him look way more put together than someone who claimed he “didn’t care” about parties.

Why does he always look so cool without trying?

He stared for just a second too long.

Katsuki looked up. “The hell’re you lookin’ at?”

Izuku immediately looked away. “N—Nothing!”

“Tch.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes. “You’re weird.”

“Says you.”

“Hah?”

“You wear black every single day.”

“And?”

“You need to add some color!”

Denki leaned back from the passenger seat. “Ooooh, they’re already flirting.”

“We’re not flirting!” Izuku yelped. “We’re literally talking about colors!”

Sero laughed. “Sure.”

Katsuki looked genuinely offended. “The hell kinda flirting is that?” He scoffed, shuffling uncomfortably on his seat. “I don’t even like this nerd.”

Izuku blinked, frowning playfully.

“You don’t?”

Katsuki looked at him.

“Shut up.”

That only made everyone else laugh harder.

By the time they reached Jackson’s neighborhood, everyone had settled into casual conversation. Uraraka and Tsuyu were talking about one of their online professors, Iida kept reminding Denki to stop putting his feet on the seats, Shoto hadn’t said more than three words the entire drive, Kirishima and Sero was trying and failing to get Katsuki to admit he was actually excited to be there.

Izuku just found himself smiling. It had been a while since everyone had been together like this.

The SUV slowly rolled through a pair of massive iron gates before coming to a stop in front of one of the biggest houses Izuku had ever seen.

“Whoa.” His mouth fell open.

Calling it a “house” party almost felt wrong. It looked more like a mansion party.

Warm golden light spilled from nearly every window, soft and flickering like candlelight but steadier, expensive, layered, intentional. The entire building glowed against the night like it had been poured out of amber. Somewhere inside, bass-heavy music pulsed through the walls in a steady heartbeat rhythm, deep enough that Izuku could feel it faintly in his chest even from the driveway.

The air itself felt different here. It was cleaner, sharper, carrying the faint scent of cut grass from the perfectly maintained lawn mixed with something sweeter drifting from the backyard: citrus drinks, perfume, and the smoky-sugary smell of barbecue.

Even from where they stood, Izuku could see movement everywhere.

Silhouettes passed in front of lit windows like fish in an aquarium. On the patio, clusters of people leaned against glass railings, laughing too loudly, their voices blending into the music. The backyard stretched impossibly far—string lights zigzagged overhead like constellations, swaying gently in the night breeze, and beneath them the pool shimmered an electric blue, reflecting faces and motion in broken ripples.

People splashed, shouted, and cheered as someone cannonballed into the water, sending a burst of glittering droplets into the air that caught the light like sparks.

“This is one person’s house?” Izuku asked quietly.

Denki laughed, already staring up at the mansion like it was a theme park.

“Jackson’s loaded.”

“I heard his parents own like.. five businesses,” Sero added with a shrug,

“I don’t know if that’s true.” Tsuyu interrupts.

“It sounds true.” Ochako quickly adds.

“Midoriya!”

Kirishima threw an arm around his shoulder as they climbed out of the car, the gravel crunching under their feet.

“Pretty sick, right?”

Izuku nodded quickly, eyes still wide as he took everything in at once, the lights, the crowd, the music that seemed to shift and swell with every passing second.

“It’s huge!”

“I know!”

Denki pointed toward the backyard where the pool lights shimmered brighter than everything else. “Dibs on the pool later.”

“You’ve been calling dibs since we left campus,” Sero sighed.

“And I’ll keep calling it.”

Meanwhile, Katsuki shut the car door behind him with a dull thud and looked up at the mansion, catching up with the others as they started walking towards the entrance.

The bass hit him immediately. Low, heavy, like a second pulse under his skin. The smell of alcohol and grilled food drifted past him in every time the wind blew, mixing with perfume, sweat, and all the other smells combined into one.

“Tch.”

“You literally just got here,” Kirishima groaned.

“Exactly.”

“You haven’t even gone inside.”

“I’ve seen enough.”

Denki laughed, gesturing at the glowing house and the sea of people spilling across the lawn.

“Bro took one look at the house and gave up.”

“Too many damn people.”

There really were a lot. Laughter rose and fell in overlapping waves, footsteps crunched across gravel, and glasses clinked somewhere near the entrance. The front yard alone felt like a moving crowd, constantly shifting, never still.

“There’re probably like two hundred people here!” Ochako claps her hand excitedly.

“I counted at least forty cars outside,” Iida added, adjusting his glasses.

Katsuki looked around again, taking in the motion, the noise, the sheer density of it all.

“Even worse.”

Tsuyu smiled softly, unbothered by the chaos. “The pool looks nice.”

“It does!” Uraraka agreed immediately, already leaning forward as if she could see it better through the crowd. “We should go swimming later!”

“I packed a swimsuit!” Tsuyu said proudly.

“I did too!” Uraraka beamed.

Both girls turned toward Shoto.

“Todoroki-kun?”

“..I brought one.”

They both looked at Iida.

He hesitated, as if mentally reviewing regulations, “I..” He coughs, “..also brought one.”

Denki burst out laughing. “Iida, you actually planned ahead?”

“I was informed there would be recreational swimming!” He says, doing a swift chopping motion with his hand.

“You say that like it’s a field trip.” Sero laughs.

Tsuyu looked between the two boys. “You’re both coming.”

Shoto blinked slowly,

“..do I have a choice?”

“No.” Ochako smiles, taking a hold of his hand to secure him from going anywhere.

“I see.” He nods.

Iida nodded once, as if accepting a formal assignment.

“If the group has decided to participate, then I shall also participate.”

Denki threw an arm around Sero’s shoulders.“They’re getting dragged whether they like it or not.”

“I don’t think Todoroki even cares.”

“I’m okay with swimming.”

Before anyone could say anything else, the front door swung open.

A wave of louder music spilled out instantly—thicker bass, sharper vocals, the sound of a DJ’s remix pumping. The light from inside poured across the porch, washing everything in warm gold and shifting color from rotating party lights deeper within.

A tall man stepped outside wearing a loose white shirt with sleeves rolled to his elbows and black pants, a bright grin already spread across his face.

“There you guys are!”

Jackson jogged down the front steps, the music and laughter from inside following him like a living thing. He immediately pulled Kirishima into a one-armed hug.

“Eijiro!”

“My man!”

“Took you long enough!” Jackson laughs, ruffling Kirishima’s hair like his own son.

“You invited like half the university!” Kirishima laughed over the noise.

“I know.” Jackson pointed dramatically toward the front door, where more silhouettes moved behind the glass, “and somehow I still know everybody.”

Denki walked up next, spreading his arms for a hug, “Jackson!”

“My favorite electrician.” Jackson pulls him in.

“I’m literally still a student.”

“Details.”

Sero stepped forward. “Yo.”

“There he is!” Jackson pulled him into a quick side hug too, the smell of cologne and night air clinging to him. “You still owe me fifty bucks from poker.”

“No I don’t.”

“You absolutely do.”

“I conveniently don’t remember.”

Jackson laughed before finally looking toward everyone else. His smile never faded, “Welcome, guys.”

He offered his hand to Iida first.

“You must be Iida.”

“Correct.”

“A pleasure to meet you.”

Then Tsuyu.

“Tsu-chan, right?”

“Yep.”

“Glad you could make it.”

“Thanks for inviting us.”

Uraraka waved enthusiastically, nearly bouncing on her heels, “Hi!”

“Uraraka-chan! I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Hopefully good things?”

“We’ll say… mostly.”

She gasped dramatically, laughing.

Shoto stepped forward next.

“Todoroki.”

“I know.”

Jackson smiled.

“Good to finally meet you.”

Then, his eyes landed on Izuku.

“You must be Midoriya.”

Izuku smiled politely, still slightly overwhelmed by the noise, the lights, the sheer scale of everything.

“Y—Yeah! Thanks for having us.”

Jackson shook his hand firmly.

“Any friend of Kirishima’s is welcome here.”

Finally, he looked at Katsuki. The bass dipped for a moment, like the house itself was waiting.

Katsuki looked back.

“Bakugo.”

“Yeah.”

Jackson grinned. “I honestly didn’t think you’d come.”

“Didn’t either.”

Jackson laughed, loud enough to cut through the music. “I like you already.”

“Tch.”

“C’mon.”

Jackson turned back toward the house, throwing both arms open dramatically.

The movement revealed even more of the interior, flashing colored lights, a packed living room swaying to the beat, and a hallway filled with shifting shadows and laughter.

“Make yourselves at home!” The sound swallowed almost immediately by the music as they stepped forward.

The moment they crossed the threshold, the temperature changed. It was warmer, louder, alive. The bass hit harder inside, the lights pulsed brighter, and the mansion swallowed them whole as the party finally began.

Uraraka’s eyes immediately wandered toward the backyard, “the pool.”

Tsuyu followed her gaze and the two girls quickly looked at each other, like telepathy. Then at Shoto, then at Iida.

“No,” Iida said immediately, “we just got here.”

“But the pool..” Uraraka whined.

“It looks fun, ribbit,” Tsuyu added.

“I refuse to believe you two brought swimsuits just to not use them.” Ochako huffs.

“We’ve only got here 5 minutes ago,” Iida argued.

“Exactly!” Uraraka said. “We’re already wasting time!”

Before either boy could protest, both girls grabbed an arm.

“W-Wait—” Iida tried to protest, already getting dragged by them.

“Come on!”

Shoto barely reacted as Tsuyu started dragging him toward the backyard.

“Okay.”

“You’re just accepting it?” Iida asked in disbelief.

“I don’t really mind.”

Within seconds, the four of them disappeared toward the backyard, Uraraka already talking excitedly about racing everyone across the pool while Iida desperately tried to explain why they should stretch first.

Denki watched them leave. “They’re gonna regret swimming in this weather.”

Sero shrugged. “They’ll live.”

Just then, someone called from across the room.

“DENKI!”

He turned around immediately.

“Oh! I know those guys.”

Without another word, he threw up a quick wave. “Catch you guys later!”

Sero pointed toward another group near the kitchen, “I should probably go say hi too. See ya.”

And just like that, everyone quickly went their seperate ways, leaving only Kirishima, Katsuki and Izuku. Kirishima clapped his hands together.

“Alright! I know where everyone hangs out.”

He started walking through the crowd.

“C’mon!

Izuku hurried after him while Katsuki stuffed both hands into his pockets with an audible sigh.

“Too many damn people.” Katsuki mutters under his breath, mostly to himself.

Izuku laughs softly, “you’ll survive.”

“Tch.”

They weaved through clusters of students, Kirishima stopping every few steps to wave at someone or exchange a quick greeting. At one point, someone called Kirishima’s name from across the room.

“Eijiro!” A pink-haired girl jogged over with a bright smile. “There you are!”

“Mina!” Kirishima smiled just a little wider than he had with everyone else.

“You made it!”

“Obviously.”

She bumped his shoulder playfully, “I wasn’t missing Jackson’s party.”

Izuku noticed the tip of Kirishima’s ears and his nape turning red as he started rubbing the back of his neck afterward.

Oh.

Before he could think much more about it, another voice joined in.

“About time you showed up.”

A girl with short dark purple hair stepped over, headphones resting comfortably around her neck.

“Hey, Jirou,” Kirishima greeted.

She nodded toward the three newcomers. “New recruits?”

“You could say that.” Kirishima shrugs.

Not far behind her stood a familiar blond. It was a fashion major, Monoma— and also, someone’s biggest enermy. The second Katsuki spotted him,

“Ugh.”

Monoma noticed too.

“Well, well,” he smiles, spreading his arms as if welcoming Katsuki. “If it isn’t Bakugo. What’re youdoing here?”

Katsuki looked thoroughly unimpressed.

“Existing.”

“What a shame.” Monoma smiled sweetly.

“I was hoping tonight would be peaceful.”

“Keep dreaming.”

Izuku looked nervously between them.

“Uhm.”

Before either of them could continue, a taller woman walked over carrying two cups. Her long purple hair was tied back casually, and despite clearly being older than most of the people in the room, she blended in effortlessly.

“There you are, Kirishima.”

“Hado-senpai!” He smiled, lowering his head slightly as a greeting. “Didn’t know you’d come.”

“I’m your senior!” She laughed. “I have to make sure you underclassmen don’t burn Jackson’s house down, haha!”

Mina clapped loudly. “Okay! I’ve got an idea.”

Everyone looked toward her.

“We need an icebreaker.” She pointed toward a circle of people sitting around the coffee table. “We’re playing Never Have I Ever.”

Jirou nodded. “I’m in.”

“I’ll pass, but you children have fun, m’kay!” Hado smiles before walking away.

Monoma sighed dramatically, “I suppose I can entertain you all.”

Mina’s eyes immediately landed on the newcomers. “Kirishima! You guys are joining too.”

Kirishima grinned. “I’m down.”

Then she looked at Izuku and Katsuki. “You two?”

Izuku smiled politely. “I’ve actually never played before!”

“Perfect!” Mina beamed. “That makes it even more fun.”

Everyone’s attention slowly shifted toward Katsuki.

“..what.”

“You playing?” Mina asked.

Katsuki glanced toward the front door for half a second. He still wanted to leave. But before he could say anything, he was jabbed to his side by no other than Izuku.

“C’mon, Kacchan! It’ll be fun.” Izuku whispered, giving Katsuki an encouraging smile.

“..tch. Fine.”

A few minutes later, everyone had settled into a loose circle around the large coffee table in the living room.

Music still blasted from somewhere deeper inside the mansion, but it was quieter here—just enough that they didn’t have to yell over each other, just enough that laughter could stack on top of laughter without turning into noise.

Jackson passed by once, setting down a bowl of chips.

“You guys behave.”

“We won’t,” Denki called from the side of the table.

“I know.” Jackson laughed before disappearing back into the crowd.

Mina didn’t bother with any formal explanation. She just grabbed a bottle from the table, grinned, and declared, “Never have I ever!” No rules discussion. No hesitation. The game started immediately.

“Denki! You! Go!” Mina pointed with enthusiasm.

“Me?!” Denki yelped, before coughing to compose himself. “Hmmm… never have I ever failed a test I definitely should’ve passed!”

Groans erupted, three fourths of the circle took a sip from their glasses, including Katsuki.

“C’mon, ‘Zuku! Drink up!” Mina clapped her hands.

Katsuki sighed under his breath, “You don’t have to, nerd.”

“Oh—”

“That’s no fun! You’ll be fiiine, ‘Zuku!”

Izuku hesitated at first, then followed along, taking small sips. He studied the drink like it was something to be understood rather than consumed.

“Hm.” Izuku let out a small hum of approval, given it was his first time trying alcohol ever since… what? High school? “That’s not bad.”

Kirishima noticed immediately but didn’t make a big deal of it. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, bro! There’s water too.”

Izuku smiled a little. “Oh! No, it’s okay. I’ll try it.”

Another small sip. “Still not bad.”

Mina pointed at him instantly. “See? He’s fine!”

Katsuki clicked his tongue from beside Izuku. “Tch. Don’t get cocky over one sip.”

“I’m not!” Izuku said quickly.

“You’re literally smiling like you just won something.”

“I didn’t—”

“You did.”

A few people snickered. Monoma, lounging dramatically, sighed. “How heartwarming. Bakugo acting like a concerned parent already.”

Katsuki’s eye twitched. “Say one more word.”

“I’m simply observing the dynamic.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Mina clapped before it could spiral further. “Next!”

The game soon found its rhythm, laughter and yelling piling on top of each other as time went on. Everyone’s prompts kept moving—fast, messy, and loud.

“Never have I ever gotten lost on campus!”

Half the circle drank immediately.

“WHY IS THAT SO COMMON?!” Denki yelled, slapping his hand over his forehead.

“It’s a big building,” Jirou said flatly as she took a drink.

“It’s a rectangle,” Katsuki deadpanned.

“It’s a confusing rectangle,” Denki insisted, frowning as he took his drink.

Izuku laughed under his breath. When it was his turn again, he thought for a moment.

“Never have I ever gotten lost in a building I’ve been in more than once.”

Half the circle drank.

“WHY IS THAT SO SPECIFIC—” Kirishima groaned.

Katsuki didn’t drink. He just stared at Izuku like he was deciding whether to be impressed or irritated.

“Tch.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

The circle grew louder, more hyped, more chaotic. Mina leaned across the table like she was conducting the entire room. Izuku rubbed the back of his neck, still smiling.

“This is kind of fun.”

Mina grinned. “Told you.”

Denki slammed his hands together. “OH OH—MY TURN!”

“Never have I ever—been kissed at a party.”

The room exploded. People shouted, laughed, protested, and immediately started drinking or pointing fingers. Izuku froze for half a second, then let out a small, embarrassed laugh. Though fairly, his glass didn’t move.

And his eyes drifted to beside him without thinking.

Katsuki.

Katsuki hadn’t moved. Hadn’t reached for anything. Just sitting there, arms crossed, expression as sharp and unreadable as ever. He hadn’t drunk either.

Izuku blinked.

Oh.

He didn’t either.

For some reason, that thought made something in his chest loosen.

Katsuki’s eyes snapped up at the same moment.

They locked.

The noise of the room didn’t stop, but it dulled—like it had been pushed behind glass. Laughter, shouting, movement, all of it faded into the background of that single, suspended second.

Katsuki didn’t soften. He never did. But his gaze held—steady, unblinking, sharp enough that it felt like it was pressing into Izuku’s thoughts instead of just his face.

And Izuku.. couldn’t look away.

It wasn’t just eye contact. It was recognition. Something old and instinctive, like Katsuki had always been able to find him in a crowd without trying.

Katsuki’s jaw shifted once.

A small movement. Controlled. But Izuku saw it anyway.

Like he’d noticed the same thing.

Like he was thinking it too.

Izuku’s fingers tightened slightly around his glass.

Katsuki’s stare flickered, just for a fraction of a second, down to Izuku’s hand, then back to his face. Something unreadable passed through his expression, too quick to name, but heavy enough that it made Izuku’s breath catch without him meaning to.

Then Katsuki clicked his tongue.

“Tch.”

The sound broke it.

Izuku let out a small, awkward laugh under his breath, immediately looking away like he’d been caught doing something embarrassing.

Katsuki’s brow twitched. “What.”

Izuku shook his head quickly. “Nothing! Sorry—just—” He gestured vaguely between them, flustered. “..never mind.”

Katsuki stared for another beat longer than necessary.

Then leaned back slightly, arms still crossed, like he was forcing the moment back into place.

Mina, completely oblivious, was already shouting over the chaos.

“OKAY THAT WAS A GOOD ONE—NEXT ROUND!”

And just like that, the moment dissolved back into noise. Nearly an hour later, the game had completely fallen apart.

Nobody was really keeping score anymore, and half the group couldn’t remember whose turn it was. The coffee table was buried under empty cans of beer, crumpled chip bags, and half-bitten cupcakes that had long since been abandoned mid-round.

“I’ve got one!” Denki suddenly announced from the floor.

He pushed himself upright too fast, wobbling immediately. His palms slapped down to steady himself before he tipped backward again.

“Never have I ever—”

He stopped, and thought for a moment too long.

“Mmm..”

A beat.

“..what were we playing again?”

The room detonated into laughter.

“You idiot,” Jirou sighed, shaking her head as she took a slow sip of water.

Monoma, still mid-argument with absolutely everyone in range, jabbed a finger across the room.

“I’m telling you—”

“No, you’re wrong,” Mina cut in instantly.

“I’m literally right.”

“You’re literally not.”

“Statistically speaking—”

“No one cares about statistics!”

Mina suddenly pivoted, pointing at Denki like she’d just solved a crime.

“Wait—YOU started the game!”

“I did NOT start the game!” Denki shot back, throwing both hands up.

“You literally said ‘let’s play something’!”

“I said ‘let’s do something chill’!”

“That’s the same thing!”

“It is NOT the same thing!”

The argument ignited instantly.

They both leaned forward at the exact same time, too fast, too committed, and slammed head-first into each other in the middle of the floor.

“Oww!” They both yelped.

Denki tried to sit up, failed, and flopped back down again, laughing at nothing in particular.

Kirishima burst out laughing. “Dude, they’re arguing over nothing!”

“They always do,” Jirou muttered flatly.

Katsuki had already decided to stop playing about thirty minutes ago. He’d claimed the couch, scrolling on his phone, ignoring the chaos on the other side of the room. From there, he lifted his head just long enough to give everyone a dead-eyed stare.

“Tch.”

Across the room, Izuku had somehow become the loudest person there.

“Kacchan!” he called, pointing excitedly. “LOOK! Denki’s out!”

“Shut the fuck up, Deku,” Katsuki snapped immediately.

Izuku giggled too bright, too loose and started walking toward the couch.

He made it exactly one step.

“Whoa.”

He swayed hard this time, like the floor had tilted under him. His eyes blinked slowly, unfocused for a second too long.

“The floor is.. doing the thing again.”

“It’s not doing anything,” Katsuki said flatly.

“It’s definitely doing something,” Izuku insisted, pointing at the ground like it had personally offended him.

“You’re wasted.”