The dorm room buzzed with the chaotic energy of a Friday night movie session. Mina's bright laughter punctuated the explosions on screen, while Kaminari's running commentary added a layer of goofy humor. Eijirou, ever the earnest one, was engrossed in the film's heroic themes, occasionally nudging Katsuki with a question or observation. But Katsuki himself was strangely subdued, his usual boisterousness replaced by a simmering intensity.

You were nestled between Mina and the arm of the couch, trying to follow the plot, but your focus kept getting snagged. It was like being caught in the gravitational pull of a small, angry star. Katsuki wasn't outwardly engaging with the movie or the group, but you could feel his presence like a low hum. Every time you shifted, every time you laughed, every time you reached for a snack, you could sense his eyes on you. It wasn't an obvious stare, but more like a series of covert glances, quick and sharp.

The air crackled with unspoken tension. At one point, Mina playfully tossed a handful of popcorn in your direction, and a few kernels landed in your hair. Before you could brush them off, Katsuki's hand shot out, his fingers gently picking away the stray pieces. The casual intimacy of the gesture sent a shiver down your spine. His touch was light, almost hesitant, a stark contrast to his usual rough demeanor. As he pulled back, his eyes met yours, and for a fleeting moment, you saw something flicker beneath the surface – a vulnerability that made your heart skip a beat.