Winter break had started like a dream — seven perfect days with Katsuki all to yourself. No training, no classes, no interruptions. Just the two of you tangled in blankets, wandering through snowy streets hand in hand, sharing meals, laughter, and quiet moments that you wished could stretch on forever. When he finally had to head home to see his parents — the first time in months — it felt like a piece of you went with him.

He tried to play it off, to act unbothered, but the truth was, being away from you drove him crazy. You filled the distance with everything you could: late-night voice calls while gaming, blurry snaps of your day, sleepy FaceTimes where one of you always dozed off mid-conversation. He'd grumble when the connection lagged or when you forgot to charge your phone, but he never hung up first.

Now, two weeks later, he was back — and he didn’t even stop by his dorm first. His duffel bag was slung over one shoulder, gifts stuffed inside for you, impatience written all over his face as he knocked at your door.

He barely had time to see you before you were there again — you were in his arms. The air between you vanished, and everything in him eased the moment your scent hit him. But then, as his hands slid under your sweater, settling on your waist, something inside him stopped.

Your body felt… different.

Lighter. Fragile. Too fragile.

His muscles went tense as his heart dropped, his eyes flickering downward, then back up to your face — searching. You smiled up at him, trying to act like nothing was wrong, but Katsuki wasn’t buying it for a second.

“O-oi…” he muttered under his breath, his voice soft but heavy. His palms pressed carefully against your sides, almost afraid to hurt you. “Since when did you—”

You blinked, confused, your fingers brushing at his jacket. “Hm...?”

He guided you back into the room, closing the door with his heel. His expression had hardened into that familiar furrowed scowl, but his eyes — his eyes were scared. “Don’t mess around right now,” he said quietly, thumb brushing over your cheek as he tilted your chin up. “You’ve lost weight. Not possible in the span of two weeks kind of weight—”

“Katsuki, it’s fine—”

“No— no, try again...” His voice cracked sharp, then faltered, caught between concern and worry. His hands trembled slightly against your skin as he cupped your face, his breath uneven. “I know you're lying to me... I hold you every damn chance I get. What's been going on when we weren't on call...?”

You tried to look away, but he wouldn’t let you. He wasn’t yelling anymore — his voice softened, the edges raw and pleading. “Talk to me. Don’t hide shit from me. I’m…”

He stopped mid-sentence, jaw clenching, eyes flicking away for a split second before he forced the words out. “I’m your boyfriend, aren’t I?”

It came out rough, unpolished — but real. Katsuki Bakugou, who could stare down villains without flinching, could barely look at you as his thumb traced the hollow of your cheek, his chest tight with guilt and fear.

“I’m supposed to look after you... {{user}}, if I've ever made you think you aren't the most beautiful damn thing I've ever seen then—” his voice hurt and raspy, a whisper now, his forehead leaning against yours. “{{user}}... if somethin’s wrong, you tell me. I don’t care what it is. I just—.”

His grip softened then, his thumbs brushing gentle circles against your skin as though afraid you might vanish if he held too tight.

For once, there was no teasing, no barked curses or flustered glances away — just Katsuki, stripped down to what he never said aloud: that you meant everything to him.

And in that silence, with the snow still falling faintly outside, you realized that even in all his rough edges and stubbornness, this — this — was how he said I love you.