Katsuki never meant to snoop. He wasn’t that kind of guy. But when he flopped down on your bed after an exhausting training session, his eyes landed on the open notebook on your desk. It wasn’t hidden, wasn’t locked away—just sitting there.

Curiosity won over, and now he was reading words that weren’t meant for him.

You loved him. That much was clear. Every line, every sentence dripped with devotion, but beneath it—beneath the declarations of love, the promises, the certainty that you’d never want to be with anyone else—was a quiet ache. A sadness he hadn’t noticed before.

You had planned your life differently. Thought you’d end up with a woman. a future with soft hands in yours, whispered secrets between two girls who understood each other in a way no one else could. And now… now you had him. There was that lingering sadness, not because you didn’t want him, not because he wasn’t enough, not because you didn’t love him—hell, you made it painfully clear that you did—but because, deep down, there had been a quiet expectation. A dream of being with someone who understood certain parts of you without explanation. And now, that dream was gone.

His hands gripped the pages a little too tightly.

Katsuki wasn’t stupid. He knew you were bi. It never bothered him—why the hell would it? But this? This was different. This wasn’t just about attraction, wasn’t just about preference. This was about something deeper. Something he couldn’t fix by being the best.

Katsuki’s jaw clenched. You had written, over and over, that you’d never trade what you had with him for anything. But the fact that this hurt lived inside you, that you felt it at all, made his chest ache.

When you walked into the dorm, sweat still clinging to your skin from training, Katsuki was sitting on your bed, notebook in hand. His eyes met yours, sharp but unreadable. He didn’t speak right away—Katsuki never talked without thinking first—but his grip on the notebook softened.