kae ‪𐙚 @tiramishoto - Tumblr Blog

roommates - chapter 7: static

warnings: mentions of alcohol + 9.3k words

After an excruciatingly long period of time, dawn finally settled in as the dorm lights turned on at seven. Izuku flinched at the sudden brightness of said lights, realizing he'd been sitting in the same spot for hours, the change making his eyes sting. He rolled his shoulders and stood, stretching out the stiffness in his legs.

Katsuki was still asleep, sprawled diagonally across the bed, blanket tangled around his waist and his hair sticking up in all directions.

Izuku walked to the window and opened it slightly. The room needed it, and so did he. He turned his body back towards the bed, just as Katsuki shifted.

A rough groan left Katsuki. He rolled onto his side, pushed himself up slowly, and rubbed his hand on his temple.

“Fuck,” he muttered, sinking back down into the mattress.

Izuku stepped closer. “Kacchan? Are you awake?”

Katsuki's vision doubled, He sat hunched forward, elbows on his knees, fingers pressing into his temples like he was trying to hold his skull together.

“My head…” he rasped.

Izuku nodded quickly. “I’ll get you water. And something for the hangover. Stay sitting.”

Katsuki was far too tired to protest the offer, so Izuku took that as permission and moved to the small dorm kitchenette, filling a glass and digging through the medicine drawer.

When he returned, Katsuki had his face in his hands.

Izuku set the glass beside him. “Here. Drink this first.” Then, set a dry slice of toast next to the glass.

Katsuki lifted the glass, took a slow sip, then another.

“Thanks,” he muttered, voice rough.

Izuku handed him the painkillers. Katsuki took them without looking up.

A quiet settled in the room for a moment.

Katsuki finally lowered his hands from his face. His eyes flicked up toward Izuku.

“…Why are you here, Deku?”

The question was simple. But Izuku felt his chest tighten for an unknown reason. At least one he wasn’t aware of just yet.

“You didn’t come back last night,” Izuku muttered. “You weren’t answering your phone. We found you at a bar.”

Katsuki blinked. His brows drew together, confusion crossing his face.

“You found me at a bar…?”

Izuku nodded once. “Yeah. Eijiro helped me bring you back.”

Katsuki looked down at himself. The twisted shirt. The blanket. The glass on the nightstand.

His memory was clearly patchy. He swallowed.

“…Did I do anything stupid?”

Izuku didn’t answer immediately.

He couldn’t lie. There wasn’t any point in that, he’d already heard everything that came out his mouth last night.

And he couldn’t figure out how to tell the truth without dropping a bomb straight onto both of them.

So for a moment, he just looked at him. Unsure. Tired. Worried.

Then he said quietly,

“…Yeah. Kind of.”

Katsuki’s expression shifted, slow and subtle. The confusion faded first. Then something sharper took its place. His eyes narrowed, not in anger, but in realization.

He looked away, exhaling as his jaw tightened.

“…I remember,” he said.

Izuku’s breath caught. “You do?”

Katsuki didn’t answer immediately. His fingers curled against his knees, knuckles paling.

“The bar,” he muttered. “You showed up. Me yelling.” He shut his eyes briefly. “Me saying… shit.”

Izuku’s puzzled, questions looming.

Was that all Katsuki had remembered? Eijiro was there too. Maybe he thought he was irrelevant since I’m the one in front of him now? Why hasn’t he acknowledged what I said earlier about Eijiro and I finding him?

He swallowed. “Kacchan—”

“Don’t,” Katsuki cut in, voice rough. “Don’t say it.”

Izuku stopped. His hands dropped from his chest and hovered uselessly at his sides.

Another long pause. Katsuki rubbed a hand down his face, dragging it over his mouth and chin like he wanted to erase the memory.

“…I was drunk,” Katsuki said finally. Not as an excuse. Just a fact.

Izuku nodded once. “I know, Kacchan.” Izuku sighed. “You weren’t thinking clearly, you were upset. And drunk, so I'm not holding any of it against you.” He pauses for a millennium. “Was any of it—“

Katsuki lets out a scoff. “That’s worse,” he muttered.

Izuku frowned. “What?”

Katsuki glanced at him, eyes sharp again.

“If you were pissed, I could deal with that. If you told me to fuck off and leave you alone, I could handle it.” He looked away. “But you’re just… being you.”

Izuku didn’t know what to say to that.

Then eventually did.

Izuku clutched at the mattress, sitting across from the other.

“You didn’t answer my fucking question. And you do this all the time when you don’t want yourself found out, and I'm tired of it. So can’t you just tell me the truth? What all of this really is?”

Katsuki’s brows furrowed and he opened his mouth to talk and closed it, letting Izuku finish his diatribe.

“For fucks sake, Kacchan—everyone—especially I was worried sick about you last night! And you just don’t wanna tell me anything? I mean,” He paused. “Hell, I was up the whole night.”

Katsuki pushed himself off the bed, swaying slightly before catching his balance. He grabbed the blanket and tossed it aside, then reached for a clean shirt from his drawer.

“Oh my God,” Izuku threw his hand in the air, scoffing furiously. “You can’t be serious. Where the hell are you going?”

“I’m going to shower,” he said. His tone was flat. Businesslike.

Izuku watched him for a moment. The movement. Katsuki drowned in refusal to look him in the eye.

“…Kacchan,” Izuku gritted his teeth. “I’m sorry.”

Katsuki paused with his hand ghosting over the bathroom door.

“Why?”

“I don’t feel the same way. And I can’t pretend I do, cause that isn’t fair to you.”

Katsuki’s heart sank deep in his body. “It was just the alcohol talking. It’s fine.”

“I meant what I said,” Izuku continued. “I don’t feel the same way. So please, don’t get your hopes up. I’ll still–”

Katsuki’s shoulders tensed. “It doesn’t matter. None of that happened, stop drilling into my head with this bullshit story of yours, Izuku.”

Then he walked into the bathroom, slammed the door shut, and locked it.

Izuku stood outside, chest heaving. He stepped backwards, sitting back down on the edge of the bed, and stared down at the floor.

A few minutes later, Katsuki stepped out, hair damp, shirt pulled on, towel around his neck. He didn’t look at Izuku right away. He grabbed his phone from the nightstand, checked it, then shoved it into his pocket.

“I’m going to grab breakfast,” Katsuki said.

Izuku looked up. “You should eat something, yeah. I can—”

“I said I’m going,” Katsuki cut in.

Izuku closed his mouth. “…Okay.”

Katsuki headed for the door.

“Kacchan,” Izuku called before he could leave.

Katsuki paused with his hand on the handle, back still turned.

Izuku hesitated. “Are we… okay?”

Katsuki deeply exhaled, his cheeks puffing out air.

“…No idea,” he said. “Probably not.”

Then he left.

The door shut. Izuku sat there alone, feeling like he’d somehow done something wrong and nothing wrong at the same time.

—

Katsuki didn’t come back to their dorm. Not that night, not the next, not even to grab clean clothes or his laptop.

His half of the room stayed untouched. Textbook still open to the chapter they were supposed to review together for the upcoming exam. Bed still unmade from the morning he’d left, glass still sitting on the nightstand with a thin film of dust gathering on the water’s surface.

They both feigned disregard meant to each other’s absence. Izuku went about his days, sketching away blueprints and attempting to fill the void Katsuki had left by spending time with Ochako. It was the same for Katsuki, except in the form of alcohol. Sure, it wasn’t the greatest coping mechanism, but the substance erased the sting of Izuku’s absence. And that was enough for him, for now, at least.

At the North Wing’s dormitory, Eijiro, Denki and Sero watched Katsuki and his pitiful state, murmuring to each other.

Denki got up and so did the other two.

“Holy shit, dude,” Denki winced, walking over to a couch-ridden Katsuki. “Get your ass up. Can’t keep drinking and crashing at mine and Eij’s. If you don’t want to go back yet, at least get a new dorm or something.”

Sero nodded in agreement. “Exactly. Why don’t you just find some hot chick to room with?”

Denki fist-bumped Sero. “That’s what I’m talkin’ bout! Then you wouldn’t be all mopey—”

Eijiro read Katsuki’s annoyed expression quickly. “Guys.”

“Listen—I don’t like girls!” Katsuki snapped, his hands set in a cupped position, waving up and down.

Denki froze in place, Sero gaping.

“WHAT?!” They exclaimed in unison.

“I’ve known.” Eijiro sheepishly said, scratching his neck.

The back of Denki’s hand slapped Katsuki’s shoulder. “And you didn’t tell us? We could’ve set you up with someone by now!”

Katsuki sighed. “Well, surprise, I like guys.”

“No seriously, man why didn’t you tell us?” Eijiro stared in concern, Sero taking a seat beside the blonde.

“Thought I’d get bashed for it. Y’know. Homophobic people exist.”

Sero huffed. “Pfft, you think that out of every possible reason there is to drop you we’d drop you cause you like boys? Nah, man, I think that’s cool. We love ya.”

“Exactly! So who’s the lucky guy?”

Katsuki’s stare rotated between his three friends.

Sero and Denki glanced at Eijiro in suspicion.

“What?” Eijiro said defensively.

“DON’T YOU KNOW SOMETHING?!” Denki tugged at his collar.

Eijiro snatched Denki’s hand off. “I do, but let him talk! He’s the one who-”

To put a stop to the brewing quarrel, Katsuki spoke.

“Relax. It’s Izuku.”

Denki paused in his movements. “Izuku…Midoriya. Like…your best friend Izuku?”

“Well, yeah.”

Sero blinked slowly, eyebrows raised. “No, no. So you and Eijiro had just been keeping this from us?”

“Not cool, man! I tell you guys every time I find anyone even remotely attractive!” Denki added.

“It’s not the same thing, dunce face,” Katsuki snarled. “Nor was that even easy to admit.”

“C’mon. Like I said, we love ya. Nothing such as who you choose to love’ll change the bond we have. Bring it in, guys.” Denki smiled, spreading his arms.

No one met his arms just yet—as if it was in a teasing group effort.

“Uh. Guys. My arms hurt. Bring it in!” he spread his arms again, welcoming the other three in as they embraced back.

Snickering, Sero began, “Denki’s right. Plus, we’d even help you get him. That is, if we’re all willing?” He glanced at the other three, loosening his embrace.

Katsuki broke free and answered first. “Thing is…” he sighed. “He obviously has a girlfriend and doesn’t feel the same way. I mean, you’ve all seen Ochako, yeah?”

Eijiro ran a hand down his face. “And that’s the hard part. I doubt you’d be willing to homewreck.”

“Tsk. Obviously. I get what I want—but fair and square.”

Denki cheesed. “Ooh, someone’s desperate.”

“You wanna die?!” Katsuki threatened. “Instead of being useful, you decide to spout bullshit? Thanks. Very helpful.”

“Woah, woah. Who said I wanted to die?” Denki raised his hands defensively, backing up.

“IS THAT ALL YOU LISTENED TO?”

Sero grimaced. “Guys. Calm down. Kats—if you’re gonna do this you’ll obviously need our support, and a plan.”

“Well, yeah, but what am I supposed to do?” Katsuki stared at the floor, a distraught expression imprinted on his face.

“I mean talking to him is an obviously daunting option but it’s really the only way you’ll talk things through and over. But you never know…” Eijiro chirped in.

Katsuki scoffed. “Don’t you get it? He has a whole girlfriend and I’m just a mopey ass mess, it’s basically a lost cause. Plus what would I even say’ta him if we talked?”

The redhead clasped a hand on Katsuki’s back in support. “You just sound like you don’t want to lose. Here’s what I think—you should go back there and reiterate your feelings, see if something happens, hm?” Eijiro suggested, nudging him.

“I don’t think it’s that easy, Eij,” Denki added. “He can’t just march over there and talk about his feelings on a whim. I think you should prepare yourself both physically and mentally before you face him.”

“I thought you guys were going to be helpful. None of that exactly gets me what I want.”

Sero sighed. “Well, have patience. Good things come to those who wait, Kats.”

Katsuki took that as a sign. Maybe waiting could get him what he wanted. He waited to return to the dorm, constantly psyching himself up for what he was going to do. Before he did, he returned to his usual activities–and got a new dorm as suggested. Unfortunately, Katsuki ended up with a roommate. Co-Ed dorms were rare, but they were a thing. His roommate was messier than Katsuki would like to think, hoping that if he downplayed it, it wouldn’t be so bad. Which did not work.

Camie Utsushimi, the sorority it-girl of the campus, was the epitome of chaos in platform heels—everything Katsuki had no patience for.

She was already there when he arrived, music loudly playing through her phone as she balanced on the edge of her mattress to pin a strip of photos along the wall. Open suitcases gaped across the floor, spilling pastel fabric and tangled cords into careless piles, and the overwhelming sweetness of vanilla hung in the air like it had soaked into the room itself. Traces of glitter caught along the wooden floor, bits creeping into the crevices that separated planks.

Sighing, Katsuki shut the door begrudgingly, shrugging his jacket off.

Great, he thought.

“Hey, Roomie! You must be Kat…uh…Katsuya, right?” Camie beamed.

Katsuki clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Katsuki. Get it right, it’s literally on the door.”

“Right, sorry! It’s like, my first time ever rooming with someone so I’ll make sure it’s super clean!”

“Uh huh. Do you really…” Katsuki made circles in the air pointing at the mess before him. “…Need all that?”

Katsuki came in with a duffel bag. Compared to Camie’s inventory, what he had was only a fraction of it.

“Of course I do, they’re my essentials. What about you? I’m sure you have lots more coming in, right?”

“Nah. This is it.” Katsuki lifted his duffel bag and set it down.

Camie gaped. “No. Way. That’s totally boring, not even any pins or anything?”

“No. Stop being so nosy, I’m only here temporarily so I don’t need much. I only need a couple of clothes, drumsticks, my computer and obviously toiletries.”

“Huh? Temporarily? Why? Are you hiding? What from? You make music? Remind me what your name was?”

Katsuki stared at her like she’d just fired off a machine-gun of nonsense straight at his face.

“…You always talk this much?” he muttered.

Camie blinked once, then grinned like that was the best compliment she’d ever received.

“Only when I’m awake.”

“Tch. Figures.”

He nudged one of her suitcases out of the way with his foot and dropped onto the edge of his bed, which—thankfully—was still untouched by glitter. Bare minimum victory.

“But seriously, you make music? That’s so cool! But you didn’t answer my other question. Why temporarily?”

“Do you want the whole story?”

“Yes. But can I guess first? Ooh, I know, it’s gotta be super juicy since, well—people don’t usually move into co-ed dorms without a reason.”

“Go on. I doubt you’d guess correctly.”

“A breakup?”

“No.”

“A fight with a friend?”

“No.”

Camie giggled. “Secret band drama?”

“Okay. You’re reaching.”

“So what really happened? Tell me all about it!”

“Well if you really want to know-”

“Tell me!”

“I would, if you’d shut up!”

Camie sank into her seat, giving the other her full attention. Katsuki continued, “It’s complicated.”

“What’d she do?”

“He.” Katsuki sighed.

“Oh, he.”

“Got a problem?”

“No, of course not! I’m just used to most of my guy friends having girl problems, so it’s nice to hear a different experience. Trust me, I fully support you! And I’m your girl if you need someone to talk to.”

“Right, thanks. Well, yeah. He’s been my best friend for ages and I recently found out he wanted to marry his girlfriend. I’m not sure if he was serious, but I took it that way. And my state is solid evidence.”

Camie grimaced, looking at Katsuki who unzipped his bag and shoved his belongings into the closet. “Mhm. You don’t look too great…so tell me more, he’s your best friend, you found out he’s marrying–allegdly–his girlfriend and then what?”

“And then I got drunk the night I found out. He and my other friend found me at a bar and I guess I told him I liked him. And it went from there. I started drinking so much that I was eventually bedridden. Never confess to your best friend and assume it’ll go well.”

Katsuki sucked in air through his teeth “...So yeah. That’s the sob story.”

Camie raised her eyebrows. “Wow. Yeah. That’s…Wow. What do you plan on doing now? Gonna try to make him and his girlfriend up?”

“Are you an idiot? I can’t just do that. That’s morally wrong. But I don’t know. I’m not used to not getting what I want.”

And that was true. All of Katsuki’s life, he’s been praised, known as the smartest kid in class, but most importantly, he’s won lots. He got everything and anything he wanted at no expense.

But this?

He was losing. In fact, he’d already lost.

If winning was all he’s ever known, then he’s yet to learn what it’s like to lose.

And a loss like this didn’t arrive at once. It unfolded slowly and quietly, settling into the deep crevices of his mind. For the first time, effort meant nothing. Strength meant nothing if he felt powerless. Pride, stubbornness, and sheer refusal to back down couldn’t change the simple, unmoving truth sitting in his chest.

There was no opponent to overpower, no finish line to cross first–nothing but himself.

“So, what do you plan to do, Katsuki? You don’t seem like the type to give up. I think you should totes shoot your shot again! From the looks of it, your bond, it seems so much, like, deeper. And I could be reaching, but there’s a good chance, right?”

“We are–we were pretty close.”

Camie nudged him. “Are, Silly. It’s not all over. You should try to talk to him. Just give yourself time, and if things end badly you can obviously stay over here ‘til you figure out your next move.”

Camie was right. It wasn’t necessarily over. If he had really thought about it, nothing about Izuku and Ochako’s relationship seemed all that special. The affection between them sometimes looked practiced, like something performed out of habit rather than instinct. Small hesitations lived in the spaces where certainty should have been, and Katsuki hated himself a little for noticing—and hated the fragile thread of hope that observation gave him.

Katsuki’s fists curled in his lap. “I miss him. I do. And maybe I really should talk to him.”

“Atta boy! But before you–wait, when are you going to?”

“Tonight.”

“Mm. Yeah. This…” Camie eyed him up and down. “Yikes. If you’re going to talk to your crush, at least look presentable. Need help?”

“If that’s what you think will win him over, sure. What d’ya got in mind?” Katsuki asked.

“Shopping.”

“You can’t be serious. I don’t have time. It’s 6 pm.”

“Who says you don’t? I’m an expert, so just trust me.”

Camie observed him again.

“Yeah. And you need a haircut, too.”

Katsuki scoffed. “Hah, me?...Wait, it’s that bad?”

The girl nodded in hesitation.

“Well shit.”

Camie’s grin widened, sharp and triumphant, like she’d just landed the winning blow in a spar. She looped her arm through his without asking—bold as ever—and started dragging him toward the dorm exit.

“Alright then, move it, hotshot. Clock’s ticking, and your future boyfriend isn’t gonna fall into your arms if you show up looking like you just crawled out of a war zone.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing! Come on.”

They hit the streets just as the sky bruised into evening, the late autumn air biting enough to make Katsuki shove his hands deeper into his pockets. Camie moved like she owned the sidewalk, weaving through crowds with lazy confidence, already texting someone with one thumb.

“Salon first. My guy’s holding a slot for me—told him it was an emergency glow-up for a friend who’s about to re-confess to the love of his life. He’s a romantic himself, so he’d eat that up.”

Katsuki’s ears burned, head lunged forward. “You told him what?”

“Relax, I didn’t name names. Just said you were tragically hot but tragically clueless about hair maintenance.”

She shot him a sideways smirk. “He’s excited to meet you.”

The salon was small, dimly lit, all exposed brick and plants hanging from the ceiling. A guy idly stood and immediately perked up at the sight of Camie.

“Utsushimi. You’re early.”

“Mm. And you’re still alive after that last haircut you gave me, so we’re even.” She jerked a thumb at Katsuki.

“This is the emergency. Be nice. He bites.”

“I can hear you,” Katsuki grumbled.

The stylist—a guy with half-shaved silver hair and more piercings than Katsuki could count—took one look at him and whistled low.

“Oh honey. Yeah, we can work with this. Sit.”

Reluctantly, Katsuki took a seat.

The stylist cocked an eyebrow, spinning Katsuki in his chair. “So what do you have in mind?”

“Surprise me. Mind’s empty.”

“Sure.”

And forty minutes later, he stared at a stranger in the mirror.

“Well?”

“It’s not…bad.” Katsuki said, tone approving.

Camie clasped her hands together triumphantly. “You look amazing. How much?”

“On the house, Camie.” The stylist smiled.

“Thanks, Shoji!”

Katsuki turned his head obsessively in the mirror, curiously examining himself. “Shoji, huh? The name's Katsuki.”

“Hm? Like, Katsuki Bakugo? Aren’t you in that one–”

“Band? Yeah. But anyway, thanks man. Turned out better than I expected.”

Camie and Shoji stared. “Better than you expected? No way you thought I’d fuck you up.”

Katsuki shrugged. “Camie did imply she almost killed you the last time you cut her hair.”

“Do you want to let this stay free or not?” Shoji threatened.

“Free, dipshit.”

Camie gritted her teeth anxiously. “Alright…let’s go, we still have an outfit to snag. Thanks, ‘Ji.”

“Anytime. And maybe don’t bring him back.”

“Excuse me?”

“Kidding. You’re welcome here.”

Camie practically shoved Katsuki out the salon door, her laughter trailing.

“Okay, okay, hair crisis averted. Now, clothes. We’re two blocks from the good spot–and I promise you’ll find something to your liking.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes but kept pace, the fresh cut catching the streetlights every time he turned his head.

They ducked into a narrow storefront with blacked-out windows and a single neon sign that read “VOID” in electric white. Inside it smelled like new leather, incense, and the faint metallic tang of someone recently soldering jewelry in the back. The racks were sparse and curated.

“Chop chop, babe.”

“Shut up. I’ll just throw something on and call it a day.” Katsuki sighed.

Camie palmed her face. “That is not how shopping works. Here, I’ll help you! Get in the stall.”

Katsuki got into the stall and sat on the small bench adjacent to the lit mirror.

Cami yanked all sorts of clothing off the rack. “Think fast!” Camie exclaimed, throwing articles of clothing into the stall.

Katsuki tried on a loose shirt and plain ash jeans. Unlocking the door, Camie immediately shut it.

“You didn’t even look at it, dude. It was decent”

Camie yelped. “Absolutely not. What in the world? Let’s try something else, I’m sure I can pick something out quickly.”

She froze mid-step, phone halfway to her face as she clocked the new rack near the back—oversized shadows in matte black, hanging like they were waiting for someone with attitude to claim them.

“Wait,” she said, eyes lighting up like she'd just found buried treasure. “Forget the plain shit for a sec. This... this is speaking to me. And it’s screaming you.”

Katsuki exited the stall and followed her gaze. The pieces were looser, more draped: a high-neck zip-up jacket in heavy black cotton-nylon blend, sleeves long enough to bunch at the wrists, body cut oversized but not sloppy. Next to it, massive wide-leg cargo pants—deep black, utilitarian pockets, but the fabric had that slight sheen that caught the low lights. Its final accomplice was a thick belt with a chunky, silver patterned buckle looped through.

Camie snatched the jacket off the rack, held it up to him. “Hurry! I’m sure this’ll look phenomenal on you!”

She shoved the jacket into his arms, then snatched the matching wide-leg cargos and the belt off the rack like she was looting a vault.

“Pants, jacket, belt–Go. I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Katsuki muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “pushy extra” but ducked back into the stall anyway. The curtain rattled shut. Thirty seconds of rustling fabric, the soft clink of the belt buckle, then the curtain yanked open again. He stepped out.

The high-neck zip-up swallowed him in the best way: oversized but sharp, the collar riding high against the fresh undercut, framing his jaw like it had been designed for exactly this face. The sleeves bunched at his wrists where he’d shoved them up, exposing the tension in his forearms. The wide-leg cargos pooled dramatically at his ankles, the fabric heavy and matte, moving like liquid shadow with every shift of his weight. The silver-patterned belt cinched everything at the waist—chunky buckle glinting under the store lights.

Camie’s jaw slacked. “Oh my God. You look amazed! Turn, turn, turn!”

“Why?” Katsuki asked hesitantly.

“Just cause. Hurry up.”

Reluctantly, he turned. Katsuki glanced at the mirror, turned once, slow. The cargos swished. The jacket shifted with a soft, expensive rustle. The belt buckle caught the light again.

“Hm. I like this one,” he said quietly.

Camie squealed and clapped. “We’re buying it. All of it. On me. No, shut up, I’m investing in your happiness and my future bragging rights.”

They paid and exited into the street. “Thanks. Guess I’m really doin’ this shit,” Katsuki exhaled, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Anytime! And remember what I said, even if it goes bad, don’t give up. I’m sure you have a chance. And I’ve got instant ramen if you’re up for the offer,” Camie beamed.

“Fuck your ramen.”

“Excuse you?”

Katsuki turned and met her gaze. “Kidding. Seriously, thanks. And sorry for dumpin’ all of that on you on the first day. I don’t typically do that shit, you’ll be chilling soon enough.”

“No problem, I really don’t mind. Are you going back to our dorm or straight to him?”

“Back, I need’ta psych myself up a bit.”

Camie nodded. “Smart. Take your time. Build the hype in your head so when you actually walk in there, you don’t short-circuit.” She gave his shoulder a quick squeeze. “Text me when you’re heading over. Or if you bail and need a distraction. I’ll be on standby.”

They turned together, falling into step down the quiet street toward the dorm building. The night air had cooled off enough that Katsuki could feel the high collar of the zip-up brushing his jaw with every breath. Camie’s platforms clicked rhythmically beside his softer leather ones.

Halfway there, she side-eyed him. “You’re actually wearing the whole fit right now, huh? Hm. Bold.”

“Figured if I’m gonna do this, might as well commit,” he muttered. “Half-assing it would just piss me off more. Plus if I did that, nothing would happen.”

Camie grinned, teeth flashing under a streetlamp. “That’s the spirit. Go big or go home.”

They reached the building entrance. Katsuki fished out his new keycard while Camie fished out a half-eaten pack of sour gummies from her bag and offered him one without looking.

He took it on reflex. Popped it in his mouth. The tart burst was grounding.

Inside the lobby it was warm and smelled faintly like someone had microwaved popcorn earlier. The elevator ride up was quiet except for the soft ding of floors passing. Camie leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching him in the mirrored side panel.

“You look hot,” she said matter-of-factly. “Like, objectively. If he doesn’t at least short-circuit for a second, he’s lying to himself.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes. “Shut up, or I’m not going.”

“Okay, okay.”

Katsuki swiped his new keycard and entered the dorm, holding the door open for the other.

“I just need a second, then I’ll go. And really, thanks for real. Not just the clothes, everything.”

Camie smiled warmly. “Of course. It’s been a second. Stop stalling and get on with it!”

“I said I needed a second, but not literally.”

“Sounded pretty literal to me,” Camie teased.

She kicked off her platforms by the door with a dramatic sigh of relief, then flopped backward onto her bed, arms spread like she was making a snow angel in the comforter.

Camie propped herself on her elbows. “For real though. You good? Like… mentally prepped good? Or do you need me to hype you up more? I can do motivational speeches. I’m very good at them. I once convinced a guy to ask out his TA by comparing it to a boss fight in a video game.”

Katsuki gave her a flat look. “I’m fine.”

“Liar. But okay.” She rolled onto her stomach, chin in her hands. “Door’s always open if you change your mind.”

“Mm. Thanks. Just need to text the boys.”

“Ooh, edgy. ‘The boys’, huh?” Camie mocked.

Katsuki sideeyed her. “Not the time.”

He pulled his phone out, sending a single, vague text to the group chat that included Sero, Denki and Eijiro.

‘Tonight’s the night. Wish me luck.’

And send.

Shoving his phone into his pocket, he stepped into the bathroom and gently closed the door, pep-talking himself.

Minutes later, Katsuki stepped out of the bathroom, hair still slightly damp from the quick rinse he’d taken just to feel less like he was carrying the day on his skin. He looked at himself in the mirror one last time: sharp, composed, ready. No more stalling.

Camie was sprawled on her bed and looked up, smiling. “Good luck. You look great.”

Katsuki nodded and took off.

—

As he walked across the campus toward the East Wing, Katsuki’s mind circled back to how avoiding Izuku became second nature to him. And as for the other, the void Katsuki left feasted on his mind, leaving him restless in an incessant manner.

But the silence had grown teeth. It followed Izuku through classes, through meals, through the quiet hours when the dorm lights dimmed and there was nowhere left to hide from the ache of routine without Katsuki in it.

Neither of them could stand it anymore.

Confrontation wasn’t either of their strong suits. Izuku didn’t want to corner Katsuki. He didn’t want to fight–that was the last thing he wanted. And Katsuki didn’t want to scare Izuku away. Now the East Wing loomed ahead—taller, newer, all glass and clean lines. When he finally reached the room, his hand inched toward the handle anxiously. And to his surprise,

“Kacchan?”

Familiar emerald eyes met crimson.

“That’s me.”

Izuku stepped back, motioning for the blonde to come in.

Katsuki stopped short before fully entering.

And coincidentally, they spoke at the same time.

“Can we talk?”

“I want to talk to you.”

Katsuki exhaled through his nose. “You first. But if you’re gonna apologize again—”

“I’m not.”

That did it. Katsuki finally looked at him, brows knitting together.

“Then what?”

Izuku held his ground. His hands were clenched at his sides, but his voice stayed even. “I can’t keep pretending this doesn’t exist. It’s eating me alive.”

Katsuki scoffed. “That’s dramatic.”

“Maybe,” Izuku said. “But it’s true.”

Another pause. Katsuki looked away, jaw tight, like he was calculating whether walking out would be easier than staying.

“Say it,” he muttered. “Whatever it is. Just say it.”

Izuku swallowed. “You don’t have to disappear to deal with things.”

Katsuki’s shoulders tensed. “I’m not disappearing. I live here. You see me everyday.”

“You are,” Izuku said softly. “From me–and we live here. Not just you.”

“Didn’t ask you to worry about me,” Katsuki argued. “And I came here to see you again. I didn’t want to fight–you’re just turning this into an argument.”

“I know,” Izuku replied. “But I do anyway. And this isn’t an argument.”

That earned him a sharp glance. Katsuki opened his mouth, then shut it again.

“Deku, it isn’t your problem,” he said. “I told you I was handling it.”

Izuku shook his head. “You’re surviving it. That’s not the same.”

Katsuki let out a short laugh—humorless. “You always gotta fix shit.”

“I’m not trying to fix you,” Izuku said quickly. “I just don’t want to lose you. And I want you to stay. Just ‘cause you said what you did doesn’t mean it’ll drive me away forever, you’re my best friend–”

Katsuki cut him off. “I don’t want to stay, Izuku. Don’t you get it? And what if that’s my purpose behind this? To drive you away forever?”

“I told you I don’t want that! Like I said, you’re my best friend, number one to me always.”

“Bullshit! Number one? You’re lying through your teeth, Deku.”

A tear cascaded down Katsuki’s cheek, his eyes peeled wide.

“And sure, I may be your best friend, but that’s the problem here.”

“What do you mean, Kacchan?”

“It’s all I am and all I’ll ever be to you.” Katsuki’s voice reached a crescendo.

That silenced Izuku. The whole plan to talk things over had clearly backfired, seeing how Katsuki was still an emotional wreck and couldn’t–wouldn’t—compose himself.

Rage, sorrow and heaviness settled in Katsuki’s chest.

“That…no…I,” Izuku stuttered. “I don’t have a word for what you are to me, what I’m saying is that without you, nothing’ll be the same and as cheesy as that sounds, it’s true.”

Katsuki’s expression softened to a tired, fragile one, one that Izuku rarely sees. “Again, you’re just lying. Actin’ like I'm special to you.”

“But you are,” Izuku argued.

Katsuki shook his head and stepped closer, pointing a finger at the other.

“You don’t get to say that.”

“Who are you to tell me what to say?”

“Right. I’m nobody to tell you that,” Katsuki’s voice dropped.

“What?”

“Nobody’s actually special, Deku. You treat everyone special, but at the same time, nobody.”

“What are you talking about?”

“God, would you just think for a second?” Katsuki snapped, hands falling to his sides. “You don’t get it because you don’t actually want to know. That’s the problem.”

Izuku didn’t interrupt this time.

“So when you say I’m ‘special’, it doesn’t mean the same thing. Not from you. You’d say that to anyone who you thought needed to hear it at the moment.”

“That’s not fair, Kacchan. It’s like you just don’t want to be special. No matter what I tell you, no matter what I do for and with you, you take lightly.”

“What you do for me? Do you not realize how much I’ve struggled for weeks? It ate me alive. Not being around you did that to me. I was stuck in such a dire state and it took moving into a new dorm to get me back to you.” Katsuki scoffed. “And if anything, I did all of this for you. I got a haircut, I properly took care of myself and I dressed up for the first time in ages. But you didn’t clock any of that.”

Izuku stared at him up and down. “I didn’t ask you to do that, Kacchan. I just wanted to know if you were okay. And all of this isn't all that-”

“What, deep? For fucks sake, Deku. You and I both know we were simultaneously in deep shit. The dorm doesn’t look like it's moved an inch since I left. So there’s no way in hell you don’t feel something, anything.”

“What are you really saying, Kacchan?”

Katsuki’s expression sank.

“I’m saying that I can’t pretend I don’t love you.”

“Why can’t you keep pretending?”

That was the last thing Katsuki had expected to hear.

Izuku stepped back in guilt.

“Wait, I didn’t–”

“I know what you meant, Izuku. I heard you loud and clear. Like I said, your best friend is all I am and all I’ll ever be to you. That’s what I now choose to do. But really, what am I to you?”

A tear trickled down Izuku’s cheek as his voice shook. “Kacchan. I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do. There’s clearly something. Unless you wanna lie to both of us that it’s nothing.”

“There’s something. But it needs to be nothing. This is wrong,” Izuku shook his head.

Katsuki’s voice came out low, traces of disappointment evident. “So that’s it?” He took a step forward, then stopped himself, fists clenched at his sides so hard the knuckles went white.

“You’re just gonna stand there and say there’s something and then tell me it has to be nothing? Like it’s that easy?”

Izuku flinched, wiping at his cheek with the sleeve of his hoodie. “Kacchan, please—”

“No.” Katsuki cut him off, voice cracking on the single syllable.

“You don’t get to do that. Not after everything. Not after I spent weeks rotting on other people’s couches because I couldn’t look at you because I felt guilty for driving our bond to shreds.”

“No, no. I meant…I meant I have Ochako. I’m with her. I can’t just give everything up I have with her to be with you out of pity. It isn’t fair to any of us,” Izuku paused for a breath.

“But I can’t pretend that I don’t feel something, but I also can’t pretend it’s okay to act on it. I don’t like boys. And I’m wrong for even letting myself think about it.”

Katsuki stared at him. Crimson eyes searched green ones for the lie, for the escape hatch, for anything that would let him breathe again.

Katsuki remained silent and Izuku spoke again.

“I don’t want to make myself like you.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t.”

He let out a short, broken laugh that sounded more like a choke. “But I get it. You don’t want to want me.”

Izuku’s head snapped up. “That’s not what–”

“What the fuck, Deku? It is. You just told me you didn’t. So what’s the truth? Fuck. So I’m the mess, huh? The complication. The thing you’re ashamed you even thought about.”

Izuku’s mouth opened, closed. Tears slipped freely now, but he didn’t wipe them away. “I never said I was ashamed of you.”

“You didn’t have to.” Katsuki’s voice cracked again. “You said it was wrong. You said it needs to be nothing. That’s shame, Deku. That’s you telling yourself—and me—that whatever this is isn’t worth fighting for. Never was, apparently.”

Izuku took a trembling step forward, hands reaching out but stopping short. “I don’t want to hurt her. I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to hurt myself. I just… I don’t know how to be someone who wants this. I’ve never been that person.”

Katsuki looked at him for a long, agonizing moment.

Then he nodded once—slow, final.

“Okay.”

Izuku blinked. “Okay?”

“Yeah.” Katsuki pushed off the doorframe, straightening. The movement was deliberate, like he was putting distance between them even though he hadn’t moved his feet yet. “Okay. You don’t know how to be that person. And I can’t make you want to learn.” He made his way to the door slowly.

Katsuki paused, his back turned to Izuku. “If you figure out what you actually want,” he said quietly, “you know where to find me. But don’t come looking until you’re sure. ‘Til you aren’t ashamed of liking me because I’m a boy.”

“And God, that’s why I wish you were a girl, Kacchan.”

“What?”

“I wish you were a girl.”

“Well. You aren’t making any sense, Deku. First you tell me you can’t be with me and want all of this to be nothing now you’re telling me you wish I was a girl so you could like me without shame?”

Izuku’s voice trembled. “I’m sorry.”

“Sure you are. But I wish I was a girl, too. Not who, but what. It wouldn’t matter who I am–as long as I’m a girl, yeah? That’s how it works? Maybe then you’d like me, feel something?”

“No.”

“Then what?” Katsuki’s eyebrows knitted together, a knot forming in his stomach.

“Kacchan. Do you remember when you injured yourself back then? And I had to take care of you?”

“That’s irrelevant.”

“And when I fell onto you on the hospital bed by accident?”

“Well, yeah.”

Izuku sighed. “In that moment, I remember I wanted to kiss you. I don't know what made me want it, but I did. And the reason why I quit the medical field was solely because I heard people talking about how ‘gay people don’t deserve to work in the medical field’. And I took up architecture because I remember how badly you wanted to work in construction when you were a kid. It reminded me of you.”

“Oh. So you built your whole life around me without telling me? Keeping it tucked away? And getting with a girl because you so badly wanted to fit in? Hell, to be honest, you guys don’t even look happy together.”

Katsuki exhaled.

“I don’t want you to wish I was a girl,” Katsuki said, low and steady. “I don’t want you to change me, or change yourself, or rewrite your whole degree just so the math works out in your head. I want you to look at me—right now, as I am—and decide if you want this. Me. The boy. The mess. The one who’s standing here in these stupid clothes he doesn’t even fancy because he thought maybe, just maybe, you’d finally see him. Maybe you-”

Izuku cut him off.

“I see you.”

Katsuki stared. “Do you promise?”

Izuku didn’t reply.

Without hesitation, Katsuki’s hand inched towards Izuku’s–and Izuku met him halfway, his fingers curling onto the other’s hand. Looking up slowly, he caressed Izuku’s hand with his thumb. And he knew what was coming, hoping it wasn’t his delusion talking.

“Can–No, May I?” Katsuki asked under his breath.

“Yes, you may,” Izuku smiled. “And just in case you’re doubting it, I want you. That’s what matters right now.”

That’s all it took for Katsuki.

One hand shot to the back of Izuku’s neck, fingers threading roughly into green curls, tilting his head just enough to slot their mouths together perfectly. The other arm hooked around Izuku’s waist and yanked him in hard—chest slamming to chest.

The kiss was immediate.

Izuku’s hands fisted in the high collar of the jacket, knuckles white, pulling Katsuki down harder like he needed to be closer, deeper, more. Then, moved his hand up to meet ash-blonde hair. His back hit the edge of the desk with a dull thud; neither of them cared.

Every breath was ragged, shared, stolen between bruising kisses.

Katsuki broke off for half a second—only long enough to drag pecks along Izuku’s jaw, teeth gently scraping the skin under his ear. Izuku gasped, head tilting back slightly, fingers digging into Katsuki’s shoulders so hard they’d leave marks through the thick fabric.

“Fuck,” Katsuki growled against his throat, voice wrecked and low. “You have no idea—”

“I do,” Izuku cut him off, breathless, tugging him back up by the hair. “I do.”

Continuing the kiss, Katsuki moved them to an empty spot on Izuku’s bed that had laundry sprawled on it and pressed the other into pillows.

“Please, please don’t take this back.” He broke the kiss, his head thrown into Izuku’s shoulder.

“I can’t promise that.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t deal with that right now. But I want you, Kacchan, okay?”

“Just me?” he asked again, quieter this time, voice rough from kissing and from everything else. “Or just right now?”

Izuku’s eyes fluttered open. They were glassy, pupils blown wide, but the guilt was already creeping back in at the edges. He didn’t answer.

Instead, he leaned in and kissed Katsuki again–slower this time, more deliberate, but desperate. And Katsuki let him.

But when Izuku pulled back this time, Katsuki caught his wrists—gently, but firm. “Answer me,” he said. Not angry. Just… tired. “You can kiss me like that all night if you want. But don’t make me guess what it means.”

Izuku’s throat worked. He looked down at where Katsuki was holding his wrists, then back up—eyes wet again.

“I can’t… be with you right now,” he whispered. “Not like this. Not while I’m still with her.”

Katsuki’s grip tightened for half a second before loosening.

“I know.”

“I’m not saying forever,” Izuku rushed out. “I’m not saying never. I’m just saying… I need time. I need to figure out how to end things properly. I can’t just—blow it all up tonight and pretend it’s clean. That wouldn’t be fair to her. Or to me. Or…” His voice cracked. “Or to you.”

Katsuki exhaled through his nose—long, slow, controlled.

“You’re still choosing her. I get it. It’s easier.”

“No.” Izuku shook his head fast. “I’m choosing to do this right. For once. I’ve spent so long running from what I feel for you—burying it, redirecting it, pretending it was something else. I don’t want to keep doing that. But I also don’t want to hurt her the way I’ve been hurting you. She doesn’t deserve that.”

Katsuki studied him for a long moment.

Then he let go of Izuku’s wrists.

Izuku’s hands immediately returned to Katsuki’s jacket—clinging again, afraid letting go would end everything.

“I’ve wanted you for years,” Izuku said, voice barely above a whisper. “Even when I didn’t let myself name it. Even when I told myself it was just friendship. Just concern. nostalgia. Every time I got close to someone else, it still felt like… like I was waiting. Like I was comparing. And I hated myself for it. And I guess that’s how I felt with her.”

He swallowed hard.

“But I see it now. I see you. And I’m terrified that if I don’t do this carefully—if I just jump without thinking—I’ll ruin it. I’ll ruin us before we even start.”

Katsuki’s hand came up slowly. He cupped the side of Izuku’s face, thumb brushing over the tear track on his cheek. “Then do it carefully,” he said. “But don’t think you can keep me in the dark while you figure it out.”

Izuku leaned into the touch. “I’m not asking you to wait forever,” he whispered. “Just… long enough for me to be honest with her. Long enough for me to be someone who can choose you without guilt eating me alive. And it might not be that long. Recently, she and I argued. And almost broke up.”

“Fine,” Katsuki said, followed by a low exhale. “You get time. But you don’t get to kiss me like that and then disappear again. You don’t get to pull me in and then push me out because it’s easier.”

“And when you’re done being careful,” he murmured, “when you’ve done what you need to, come find me. Tell me you want me–not her. Because if you’re going to do this, I don’t need bullshit involved.”

Izuku’s eyes shimmered.

“I will.”

When the dorm lights automatically dimmed, Katsuki finally stood.

“‘S getting late, Deku. I’m going,” he said, making his way to the door.

“Okay.”

A beat.

Katsuki hesitated at the door, fingers curled around the handle.

“And Deku?”

“Yeah?” Izuku answered quietly, sitting up straighter on the bed. The laundry pile beside him had been shoved half onto the floor during their earlier scramble; he didn’t bother fixing it.

“I’m really not waiting forever,” he sighed. “Don't make me.”

“I’ll try, Kacchan.”

Izuku was sick of his own limbo. How he kept trying to believe what he felt was just a phase, a lie, anything to help him stall from accepting the truth. But contrary to his belief, it wasn’t a phase and never would be. Keeping something so heavy tucked away for so long was sure to have done a number on him.

None of this was about fear anymore, it was about time. And how much of it Katsuki had already given him.

Katsuki’s hand stayed on the knob, but he didn’t turn it. He stood there, back to the room, shoulders tight like he was waiting for Izuku to say something that would make leaving easier. Or harder.

Izuku’s throat felt thick. He slid off the bed without really deciding to, socks silent on the parquet floor. Two steps. Three. Close enough that he could see the faint rise and fall of Katsuki’s breathing, the way his fingers flexed once on the metal.

“Kacchan?”

Katsuki’s head dipped a fraction. “Hm?”

Izuku reached out—slow, careful—and touched the back of Katsuki’s wrist, feeling the quick jump of his pulse.

“One more,” Izuku whispered. “Before you go. Just… one more. Please?”

Izuku didn’t expect Katsuki to understand him as immediately as he did.

“Would two suffice?”

Before Izuku could answer, Katsuki turned the rest of the way. He let go of the doorknob completely. One hand came up to cradle the back of Izuku’s neck, his fingers threading into messy curls while the other settled steady at his waist.

One.

The first kiss landed firm and unhurried. Izuku’s eyes slipped shut on instinct; his hands rose to clutch Katsuki’s collar. Katsuki didn’t rush. He lingered, mouth moving slow, coaxing Izuku’s open with the barest tilt of his head. He pulled back only enough to breathe, forehead still touching Izuku’s, eyes half lidded and dark.

Then two.

Without waiting for Katsuki to make the second move, Izuku was well on his way. He kissed Katsuki again without a word. He savored it–deeper this time, knowing it’d be the last for a while. The kiss turned languid, the both of them relaxing into it.

When they separated the second time, it was slower. Katsuki didn’t step away. He peppered tiny kisses onto Izuku’s lips, thumb still tracing lazy circles at the base of Izuku’s skull.

Katsuki chuckled.

“So fuckin’ greedy, hm?” he whispered.

Izuku gave a faint smile. This is so wrong, he thought. So his best option was to yet let it go, again. He pulled away, looking lovingly into crimson. “...Good night, Kacchan.”

“Already?”

“I’m tired. Aren’t you?”

“Mm. No. But I’ll go.”

“Get back safe, okay?”

Katsuki nodded and dropped his hand from Izuku’s face and made his way to the door.

Izuku sat back down on the edge of the bed and watched him leave. The second the door shut, his thoughts, qualms, ponderings had returned.

He pressed his palms to his thighs, hard, trying to ground himself. The guilt was less of a dull ache and more an incessant pang. He could still feel the ghost of Katsuki’s thumb at the base of his skull, the slow circles that had felt like forgiveness he hadn’t earned. Even after all he’d done to push Katsuki away, he couldn’t fathom how Katsuki was able to make him feel so loved that night.

–

Katsuki made his way back in a few minutes.

Camie was still awake when he got back—sprawled on her stomach scrolling through her phone, fairy lights looped around the headboard casting soft pink across her face. The room smelled faintly of vanilla body spray and burnt popcorn.

She looked up the second the door clicked.

“Well?” she asked, sitting up fast enough that her oversized sleep shirt slipped off one shoulder. “Did you die? Blink twice if you need me to call the police.”

Katsuki kicked his shoes off and dropped face-first onto his mattress without bothering to change.

“Shut the fuck up. Of course I didn’t die, if I did, I wouldn’t be talkin’ to you.”

“Geez. That bad?”

He rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling.

“We kissed. Lots.”

Camie sucked in a dramatic breath through her teeth. “Holy shit.”

“Then he said he can’t be with me yet.”

“…Oh.”

“He’s gonna break up with her. Properly. Needs time.”

Camie slowly crawled to the edge of her bed so she could see him better. “And you’re… okay with that?”

“No.” Katsuki dragged both hands down his face. “But I’m not gonna chase him farther until he picks me either. Said he’s felt like this for years, apparently.”

Camie let out a long, low whistle.

“That’s… a lot.”

“Yeah.”

She flopped backward again. “So what now? You wait like some tragic Victorian poet?”

“Fuck no.” Katsuki sat up, elbows on his knees. “I’ll live. Go to class. Drum. Eat, sleep. All that jazz. And if he comes back, he comes back. If he doesn’t—” His voice cracked on the last word, just barely. He cleared his throat. “Then at least I didn’t spend the rest of college rotting in someone’s guest room.”

Camie smiled—small, real, not teasing.

“That’s very mature of you, Katsuki Bakugo.”

“Eat shit.”

“Seriously though,” she said softer. “You did good tonight. You showed up. You said what you needed to say. You didn’t beg. That’s huge.”

“Yeah. Well. Don’t get used to it.”

“Well? You’re hiding something else. Spill.”

Camie propped her chin in her hands, eyes glittering with the kind of morbid curiosity usually reserved for true-crime podcasts.

“Good or bad details first?” Katsuki asked.

“The good, duh!”

“We made out, obviously. And for someone who’s ‘inexperienced’, he was great. Everything was amazing.”

“Mhm, then?”

“Then he remembered he still had a girlfriend.”

Camie winced through a sympathetic hiss. “Oof. The guilt kiss. Classic.”

“Not helping.”

“Sorry.” She didn’t sound very sorry. “So… he’s gonna dump her?”

“Mm. Guess so. And better be soon.”

“Someone’s eager.”

“Well, yeah. I’ve waited for around, what–four, I don't know, five years to get an interaction like that. Actually, maybe even longer.”

“That sucks, seriously.”

“Yeah. And then he asked me to kiss him again.”

“So…”

“I did. Twice.”

Camie’s eyebrows shot up, disappearing under her messy hair. She sat up straighter, suddenly all ears.

“Twice,” she repeated, drawing out the word teasingly. “Details, Katsuki, details.”

Katsuki let out an exhausted sigh. “He started the second one. Then after that, I just couldn’t stop. Couldn’t stop myself. Til I did, cause I’m pretty sure his guilt sank in earlier than it should’ve–so I left.”

“Uh? And that’s it?”

“Pretty much so.”

“Now what?”

Katsuki exhaled. “It’s late, so I guess I’ll sleep soon.”

Camie’s gaze averted back to the glowing light of her laptop. “G’night, loverboy.”

“Fuck off.”

“A good night would’ve worked!”

“Fuck. Off.”

Camie giggled and pulled the covers over herself while Katsuki lay in the other bed, pulling out his phone.

The screen flared bright in the dark, stinging his eyes. He squinted, thumbed open the group chat. His previous message that read, ‘tonight’s the night, wish me luck.’ had already gotten an abundance of replies back.

“What??? What are you doing?”

“Are you just gonna leave us hanging?”

“Wya???”

“Good luck.”

Katsuki sighed and typed away.

Me: “Back. I confessed to him.”

Denki: Slow the hell down. wait so that’s where u’ve been????

Eijiro: Hey man. How’d that go?

Sero: Dude it’s almost 12 what in the world

Me: I’m alive. We kissed.

Sero: ? That’s all?

Denki: U left shit out cmon

Eijiro: Prolly a rough night leave him be

Me: That's all. Night.

Katsuki locked the screen and dropped the phone onto the table beside him. The glow faded, leaving the room dark except for the faint blue from Camie’s laptop under her sheets.

He rolled onto his back, one arm over his eyes.

The memory hit him again—uninvited and vivid: Izuku’s fingers twisted in his shirt, trembling; the way he’d chased the kiss like a starved man.

He didn’t know what the future would bring, and he’s been known to hate uncertainty.

He shifted around and around, restless. And surely, something like this would keep Izuku up as well.

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