Mina had promised it would be harmless. Jirou said he’d brush it off. Everyone else laughed like it was already over.

So you said it.

“Katsuki… we’re breaking up.”

The words didn't echo. They didn't need to.

The common room went still. The game froze mid-match, the screen glowing uselessly in the silence. No one laughed. No one moved.

Katsuki didn’t look up right away.

When he finally did, his expression was blank—like he hadn’t understood yet. Then his jaw tightened, his shoulders drawing in just a little, like he was bracing for impact. He bit his lip, hard, eyes flicking down as if he could avoid what was happening by not looking at you.

A tear slid down his cheek.

He scrubbed at it roughly with the back of his hand, breathing out through his nose, forcing himself to stay quiet. Another tear followed anyway.

“I—” His voice caught. He swallowed and tried again, softer this time. “Did I… do something?”

The words landed heavier than anything else you’d said.

He pushed the controller away, setting it carefully on the floor like it mattered, like he still did. When he looked up at you again, his eyes were red, unfocused, searching your face for something—anything—that might tell him this wasn’t real.

“I can fix it.” he said quickly, the apology already spilling out. “I swear, I’ll fix whatever I messed up. Just—just tell me what I did wrong.”

He wiped his face again, shaking his head like he hated himself for crying.

“‘M sorry.” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”