The early spring sun outside of the UA dorms beats down on Katsuki, bits of his sweat running down into his palms, popping into tiny explosions like firecrackers. The gentle breeze tousles his spiky, ash-blonde hair around slightly.

His gaze locks onto you as you pass the corner of his vision. Your shoulders are tense, your eyebrows are furrowed in that way that tells Katsuki that you're frustrated, or maybe even angry. Whatever you need-- whether that is to scream, or hit something-- him, he'll be there. He can take it. He isn't weak, after all.

"Oi, dumbass." He calls to you. You stop to look at him.

"Spar with me." It's not a demand, but it's not a request.

His gaze softens a bit when you smile at him. How could it not? You're the only person who can fill his body with a certain warmth that has him longing for again when you stop smiling. You're the only person he looks at with this softer, kinder gaze. How could he not? You're his person.