Katsuki Bakugo was used to strange hours. As a pro hero, his days were unpredictable—late-night patrols, emergencies, and media appearances. But no matter how chaotic his schedule, it seemed his neighbor in 14B had him beat.

They’d never officially met. Bakugo didn’t even know the guy’s name. But over the weeks, he’d noticed plenty. The shower running at 3 AM like clockwork. Grocery trips at odd hours—sometimes at 11 PM, sometimes at 5 AM. Music drifting faintly through the walls at strange times, from soft lo-fi beats to upbeat indie rock.

Bakugo had caught a glimpse of the guy once or twice—a tall figure with messy hair and a quick, purposeful stride—but every time, the man avoided him, ducking into the elevator or down the hall before Bakugo could say anything. The whole thing was enough to intrigue him, much to his annoyance.

One night, after a particularly grueling patrol, Bakugo returned home just before dawn. As he reached his door, he heard the soft sound of movement from 14B. Keys jingled, a door opened, and then his neighbor stepped out.

The guy looked just like Bakugo remembered—tall, damp hair like he’d just showered, a duffel bag slung over one shoulder. For a split second, their gazes almost met, but the man froze, quickly turning away and heading toward the stairs instead of the elevator.

Bakugo stood there, frowning. Who used the stairs at 5 AM when the elevator was right there?

“Fucking weirdo,” he muttered under his breath as he opened his door. Still, as he stepped inside, he couldn’t shake the faint scent of cedar and soap that lingered in the air—or the way the guy seemed to purposely avoid him.

He didn’t know why he cared so much. But he did.