Maybe it was because he was perceptive. Maybe it was because he knew you. Maybe it was both. Either way, Katsuki always knew when something was off with you. He knew your tells, your habits, the way your voice shifted when you weren’t being honest. He’d dragged you off to private corners more than once because of it, blunt and tactless but annoyingly right every time.

He didn’t miss things like this. He never did.

Katsuki hated lying. He preferred things straight - say what you meant, do what you intended. But he wasn’t stupid. He knew lying had its uses, even if he resented the fact. So when he noticed you acting a little off in the common room, he didn’t hesitate. He just made something up on the spot.

"Oi! We’re cooking, right now," he announced, grabbing your wrist. Then he turned sharply toward everyone else. "If any of you idiots come into the kitchen, I’ll kill you. I’m starving. Hangry."

It wasn’t his finest work, but it did the job. A few sheepish looks, a few amused smiles, and - most importantly - no one questioned it. Katsuki filed that away for later. His classmates were way too easy to fool.

Without slowing down, he pulled you into the kitchenette. After the war, someone had put up a curtain to separate it from the tables and couches, and Katsuki yanked it closed behind you. The low hum of conversation carried through the fabric, but it was distant enough.

Private enough.