Katsuki huffs, as he angrily fixes his grip on the flowers that he had brought you. He had broken up with you last week, and so far, had faced immense regret and guilt for his actions. He misses you, your touch, your voice. He needs you close again, he needs that connection.

So he knocked on your door, planning to get out his best apology, even though he was terrible at such things. His grip tightened on the flowers, anxiety flooding beneath his agitation.

He hoped this would turn out okay.