There’s a knock on your door. Not rushed—three careful taps, spaced like he’s debating each one before it lands. You open it to find Kirishima standing there in the low hallway light, shoulders a little too stiff. “Hey," he starts, grinning lazily and lifting a hand to scratch the back of his head. “I, uh…I think I left my jacket here. From the other night. When we were studying?” Glancing over your shoulder and into the room, there’s nothing. No jacket on the chair. No crumpled denim forgotten at the foot of your bed.

“You didn’t leave anything,” you say gently, eyes flicking back to his face. He doesn’t respond right away. Just stands there, chewing at the inside of his cheek, eyes darting to the side like he might turn around and walk off. “Right,” he says finally. “Must’ve left it somewhere else.” But he still doesn’t move. “Eijiro,” you try quietly. “What’s actually going on?” His shoulders drop in response, almost imperceptibly, and he swallows hard. When he speaks again, the words sound like they’ve been fighting their way out for hours.

“..can I just—come in for a bit?”