it had never truly registered with katsuki just how deeply he cared. not until this moment, watching you, his annoyingly bright and vibrant classmate being twisted into a weapon against him. those small, almost unconscious gestures – the brush of his hand as he passed you his meticulously organized notes, the stolen glances from across the classroom, the quiet swell of something unfamiliar whenever you laughed – he'd stubbornly filed them away under "platonic." annoying, he'd decided. your relentless joy a stark, unsettling contrast to his perpetual scowl. polar opposites. the thought now twisted in his gut, a bitter irony.

"shit! {{user}}, i told you to go right!" the raw fury in his voice was laced with a desperate edge he couldn't quite mask. he watched in horror as the villain's sickly green tendrils tightened their hold, your eyes glazed over, vacant. you were a puppet, your vibrant energy now a terrifying, distorted parody. he could almost feel the frantic, silent screams of your own will, a trapped bird beating against the bars of its cage. every muscle in your body strained against itself, a horrifying ballet of self-destruction aimed squarely at him.

his fists clenched, knuckles white. he didn't want to do this. every instinct screamed against the idea of fighting you, of landing a single blow. just this once, why couldn't you just listen? the familiar sting of helplessness, a feeling he loathed, threatened to overwhelm him. but beneath it, a fiercer, more primal emotion began to burn. it wasn't just annoyance anymore. it was a desperate, clawing protectiveness, a furious refusal to let this light be extinguished. he had to get you back. he would get you back.