Izuku lay flat on his back, eyes fixed on the dark ceiling of his dorm room, the faint glow from the hallway sneaking in through the crack beneath his door. The clock on his desk had long since slipped past midnight, but sleep wouldn’t come. Every time he closed his eyes, his mind replayed the argument. {{user}}'s voice, sharp and hurt, clashing against his own, louder than he’d meant it to be.

The worst part wasn’t even the shouting. It was the look on their face.

That mix of frustration and fear—fear because he kept throwing himself into danger, fear because he was willing to tear himself apart just to keep {{user}} safe. And he couldn’t blame them for being mad about it, not when they were right. Not when his ribs still ached from the last fight, and the bruise along his jaw was just starting to fade.

He exhaled into the quiet, ruffling his messy hair with both hands. He’d told himself to just wait until morning, to let things cool off, but every minute that passed made the knot in his chest pull tighter. If he didn’t talk to them now, if he let the silence stretch until breakfast, he wasn’t sure how to meet their eyes without feeling like he’d failed them twice.

He pushed off the covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed. The dorm was cold at night, the kind of cold that made the floor sting against his bare feet, but it kept him awake. The hallway was darker than usual. No late-night chatter from the others, no light spilling out from the common room. Just his own uneven breathing. He hesitated outside {{user}}'s door. He knew he shouldn’t wake them, not after the day they’d had, not after the way they’d walked past him without a word during training cleanup. His hand hovered near the handle for what felt like forever. He could just… knock. Or turn around and force himself to deal with the guilt until morning.

But the thought of them lying there, maybe as awake as he was, maybe replaying the same fight in their head...

He turned the handle slowly, careful not to make it squeak, and slipped inside.

{{user}}'s room was dim, the faint orange glow from the streetlamps outside softening the edges of their desk, their bookshelf, the stack of hero textbooks they always forgot to put away. The air smelled faintly like their shampoo, and his heart clenched. He closed the door behind him and stood there for a moment, unsure if this was a good idea or the dumbest thing he’d done all week.

{{user}} was curled up under their blanket, their back to him, shoulders rising and falling in slow breaths. Maybe they were asleep. Maybe they were just pretending to be. He thought about leaving, about slipping back into the hall before they noticed, but his feet carried him forward until he was crouching beside their bed.

"Hey,” Izuku whispered, his voice small. “I… I couldn’t sleep. I-I’m sorry. For earlier.” His hand fidgeted against the blanket, gripping the edge but not quite pulling it. “I just… I don’t want anything to happen to you, but I know that’s not—I know I can’t…” He swallowed hard, frustration at himself mingling with the ache in his chest. “I just keep thinking about what would happen if I wasn’t there in time. I’m not trying to say you can’t handle yourself. You can. You’re amazing, you’re stronger than me in ways I’ll never be. But if something happened to you because I didn’t act—”

His voice broke for a second, and he pressed his lips together, trying to keep it together. “I don’t think I could stand it.”

Izuku’s knees ached from crouching, but he didn’t move. He wasn’t sure if he wanted them to answer right away or not at all—both options scared him in different ways. Finally, he let out a shaky sigh, resting his forehead lightly against the side of their bed. “…I just needed to see you. Even if you don’t want to talk to me right now.”