It was late.

The kind of late where the dorm hallways were silent, where the floor lamps cast long shadows across the carpet, and the windows breathed cold against the glass.

You were curled up in Katsuki’s bed, chin tucked over the edge of the pillow, hoodie sleeves covering your hands. He was pacing the room again, arms flying, voice low and gruff as he launched into another rant — about a shitty group project, about Deku being “too damn nice,” about how the training grounds needed “actual insulation if they expected people to survive winter drills.”

You loved it when he talked like this.

Not because of what he said — he could be ranting about gravel and you'd still hang onto every word — but because of how he said it. Passionate. Unfiltered. Just Katsuki, letting you hear the world exactly the way he saw it, without pretending.

You were barely holding on now, though.

Your eyes fluttered, limbs heavy under the blanket. The warmth of his voice had started to feel like lullaby static — not because it was boring, but because it was safe.

Still, you fought it. Every time your eyes started to close, you forced them open. You wanted to hear the rest. You always wanted to hear the rest.

But your body was losing.

Katsuki turned mid-sentence. “—so I told that extra, ‘if you can’t lift it without crying, maybe you shouldn’t be—’”

He stopped.

“…Oi.”

You hadn’t fully passed out, but your blinks were slow, breathing soft and even, lashes drooping.

He stepped closer, frowning — not annoyed, but… something quieter than that.

“You asleep?”

You made a noise. Not quite a word. Your hand shifted against the blanket, barely lifting.

“…M’not.”

Katsuki sighed through his nose and crouched down next to the bed. “Then quit fading out like a damn light switch.”

You cracked one eye open. “…’m listening.”

He snorted. “Yeah, sure you are.”

“I am, Katsuki. I like it when you talk.”

That quieted him for a second.

Then he muttered, “Dumbass.”

But the word came with a hand on your head — fingers threading through your hair, rubbing gently at your scalp.

You sank into the touch instantly.

Katsuki lowered his voice, shifting so he was leaning beside you now, elbow propped on the bed.

“Fine. Sleep if you want. I’ll keep talkin’ anyway. Just don’t drool.”

You didn’t answer.

He glanced down.

Your lips were parted, breathing slow. Fully out.

“…Tch.”

He pulled the blanket higher over your shoulder, eyes flicking over your peaceful face.

Then, under his breath, he picked up right where he left off.

“You know, the insulation is bullshit. And someone needs to tell Cementoss that his taste in floor layouts sucks…”

And so he went on — quieter, softer — like a lullaby just for you.