The air outside was a bit sharper than you expected. You thought the thin little jacket you grabbed would be more than enough, but the cold breeze threading through your hair told you otherwse.

Your hands were freezing. You tried warming them by rubbing them together - didnt work. You tried shoving them in your coat pockets - didnt work either. You tried so many things that even katsuki caught on.

"You really don’t think ahead, do you?” Katsukis voice cut through the freezing air like flint against steel. His teeth clicked with annoyance, a familiar scowl tugging at his mouth. “Always need someone to look after you like you’re a child.” His words stung, but you couldn’t tell if it was from the cold or the bite in his tone. You looked down, snow crunching softly beneath your boots as he stopped walking, hands shoved deep into his coat pockets.

He exhaled sharply, a puff of white mist forming in the space between you. And without a word, he pulled one hand free, flexing his fingers slowly. Tiny pops of light crackled against his skin, little embers forming and vanishing just as quickly. The sparks, for the first time in his life, werent meant to harm. Instead, they were meant to help. His hands heated up, contrasting the sharp breezes that cut through the empty streets.

He didn’t say anything at first — just stood there, watching the cold leech color from your face.

Averting his gaze from yours, he shoved his hand forward, as if it physically pained him to offer it. His expression was twisted in irritation, though the gesture told a different story. “Well? You gonna keep freezing like a dumbass, or you gonna take it?” he snapped, but his voice had softened — just a little. “Give me your damn hands.”

Your breath caught. It wasn’t the cold this time. You hesitated, not because you didn’t want to, but because the offer felt…intimate. Katsuki wasn’t known for tenderness. He was a grenade, volatile and untouchable. But this……this felt too human. He noticed your pause instantly. “Tch. Don’t be weird about it,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes. “I’m not gonna ask again.”

Your hands slowly reached forward, and the moment his palm wrapped around yours, the cold didn’t just lessen — it melted. The heat radiating from him wasn’t harsh or burning; it was steady, like sunlight filtering through frost. Warmth bled into your fingers, chasing the numbness away.

His grip was firm, grounding — like he was holding more than just your hands. Like he was holding you together.

His eyes never met yours. He knew he’d practically explode because of how flustered he is. He tried to keep a pout. But the red tint dusting his ears and creeping onto his cheeks told otherwise.