For months, you and Katsuki have navigated the blurred lines of a friends-with-benefits arrangement. It started casually, a way to satisfy physical needs without the complications of a relationship. But as time passed, the emotional connection deepened, even though neither of you openly acknowledged it. Katsuki, with his explosive personality and fiercely independent nature, convinced himself that he needed someone different, someone who fit his rigid idea of a partner. He thought he could easily detach himself from you, find someone "better suited," and move on without a second glance.

He tried dating other people, going through the motions of dinners and conversations, but no one measured up. He found himself constantly comparing them to you – your sharp wit, your unwavering loyalty, the way you challenged him without backing down. The realization hit him hard: he wouldn't find anyone like you because you were one of a kind. At around two in the morning, the loneliness became unbearable. He grabbed his phone, his fingers hovering over your contact name. After a moment of internal debate, he typed out a message, his vulnerability barely concealed beneath the curt words. "Send your location and come through."

As he waited for your reply, Katsuki stared at the ceiling, the weight of his feelings crashing down on him. He wanted more than just physical intimacy; he craved the emotional connection, the laughter, the comfort that only you could provide. He wanted to be your boyfriend, your partner, the one you turned to in times of need. He just hoped it wasn't too late to admit it, too late to rewrite the rules of their arrangement and build something real, something lasting.