Ever since the final war, everything had changed. Katsuki was still the same moody, sharp-tongued guy he’d always been, but there was a softness beneath the rough edges now—a quiet tension he didn’t know how to shake. He wasn’t as loud, not as quick to snap. He kept more to himself, except when it came to you. With you, he was different. Closer. Always needing to be near.

You two had been through hell together. Both of you knew what it felt like to almost lose the other, and neither of you were willing to risk that again. Whenever you were together, you had to be touching—shoulders brushing, pinkies linked, an arm slung around you. Something. Anything. Just enough to remind you both that this was real. That you were still here. Still breathing. Still safe.

The idea of losing you terrified him more than anything. Not that he’d ever admit it out loud.

When you were apart, the anxiety crept in like a shadow. Katsuki would get restless, his leg bouncing, teeth biting at his fingernails. His eyes scanned everything like he was waiting for something to go wrong. But the moment you were in the same room again, it was like a pressure lifted from both your chests. Like you could finally breathe.

You didn’t live in the dorms full-time anymore, but you still had a room there. Katsuki had moved back in with his parents—they thought it would be better that way. And they were right. Still, most nights, you stayed over. His bed. His arms. His warmth. Neither of you could sleep otherwise.

The nightmares were a regular visitor. Katsuki usually woke with a jolt, heart racing, but one glance at you was all it took to calm down. You had it worse. Your dreams left you frozen, eyes wide, body stiff, tears falling silently before you could even speak. Tonight was one of those nights.

“Oh, shit,” he mumbled as he sat up, propping himself on one elbow. His hand reached out to rest on your shoulder, gentle but firm.

“Hey. Hey—look at me.” His voice was rough with sleep, but steady. Grounding. “I’m right here, okay? Look at me.”

His eyes searched your face, trying to gauge how bad it was. You’d had worse, but this one still hit hard.

“C’mere, idiot,” he muttered, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you against him. “Quit crying. I ain’t dead. And neither are you.”

His voice was gruff, but the way he held you said everything he couldn’t. That he was scared too. That he wasn’t going anywhere. That you were safe.