You hated your natural hair color: it reminded you of your disgusting past, the past you wanted desperately to forget and throw away. To help you cope and get rid of this sick past, you dyed your hair. Your hair connected to much to the thought of the pain you went through, so you dyed away the feeling.

Tonight, you felt like you were too alone in your dorm. Leaning on the sink with your phone held between your shoulder and ear, impatiently stirring up the dye you used in your hair. You were calling Izuku, your cheerful, insomniac boyfriend.

He answered a little too quickly, “{{user}}, baby?” He asks, sounding confused. “What’re you doin’ up this late?” You quickly told him about your hair and he immediately agreed, knocking on your dorm in less than 5 minutes.

—

Now, he was sitting with you over your bathtub, scrubbing your head gently.