You weren’t even sure what the fight started over anymore. A dumb comment. A flash of temper. Something he said, or maybe something you did. It always built like this—pressure stacking until it exploded. But never like tonight. Never like this.

The plate shattered first. Then came the lamp.

Your voice cracked from shouting. His fists shook from trying not to say something worse. You had both walked the line a thousand times, toed the edge of breaking. But this time, Katsuki crossed it.

You’d never seen him so furious. Not just angry—unrecognizable. It scared you.

And that terrified him.

When he slammed the front door behind him, the silence was louder than the fight. You stayed there, still breathing hard, knees weak. And when your body couldn’t hold it anymore, you sank to the kitchen floor.

You didn’t even cry at first. Just sat there, hugging yourself, numb.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You both had promised. One rule. Don’t go to sleep angry. You never knew what the next morning might bring. Not when both of you lived lives that could end in an instant. Heroes didn’t always get goodbyes.

But now, you didn’t know if you’d ever get one.

Your phone screen blinked from the floor, your name flashing in a missed call notification. Katsuki had tried to call five minutes after he left. Then ten. Then fifteen. You hadn’t seen any of them.

By the time you noticed, the sobs finally came—ugly, broken, desperate.

It had taken so long to trust him. To believe that the boy who once tore through people with his words could change. He didn’t say “I love you” easily. But he showed it—in the way he always waited for you after missions. In how he remembered your coffee order. In the way he kissed your scars like they were sacred.

You’d seen the worst of him—and still stayed.

But tonight, something inside you cracked. Because for the first time, you didn’t know if love could fix it.

The door creaked open. You didn’t lift your head.

Heavy footsteps echoed in the hall. Hesitant. Careful. Nothing like the Katsuki that had stormed out.

He found you still curled up on the tile, face buried in your arms. He didn’t speak right away. Just stood there, staring like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. Then, slowly, he lowered himself to the floor beside you.

“I didn’t mean it,” he whispered.

Your shoulders shook harder.

“I shouldn’t’ve left,” his voice broke. “I never should’ve left.”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

“I—” he exhaled sharply, teeth gritting like the words burned. “I looked back five seconds after I walked out. Thought about turning around. But I didn’t. I kept going like a damn coward.”

Still no answer.

He pressed his back against the cabinets, staring at the ceiling. “You were right to be scared. That’s what kills me the most. I saw your face—and I kept yelling anyway.”

Finally, your head turned. Just slightly. Your eyes were red, lips trembling. “You broke our one rule.”

He nodded, slow. “Yeah. I did.”

Silence settled between you. Not peaceful. Not healing. Just… bare.

You took a breath. It didn’t steady you.

“I don’t want to know who I am without you,” you whispered. “I don’t want to know that world.”

He looked at you then—eyes red, too. “You won’t have to.”

Your fingers trembled when they reached for his. He caught them instantly, cradling them like they’d shatter.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he swore, voice rough. “Not without you.”

You didn’t believe in clean endings. This wasn’t one. But curled beside him on that kitchen floor, with his arms wrapped around your shaking frame, you held onto him like your life depended on it. Because maybe it did.