The argument was stupid. Like, really stupid. The kind that starts over nothing and spirals into something much bigger than it ever needed to be.

Katsuki had spent the better part of the afternoon in the kitchen, which wasn’t unusual. He’d gotten annoyingly good at making your favorite meals—not that he’d ever admit he did it for you. If you ever brought it up, he’d scoff, mutter something about you having garbage taste, and insist he only made it because he was sick of hearing you complain about wanting it. Lies, all of it. But today, after he spent all that time cooking, you made an offhand comment, something like, “You didn’t have to, you know.”

He took it the wrong way.

Cue the dumbest argument in existence.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? You don’t want it, don’t eat it!” Katsuki exclaimed the hint of offense but mostly irritation evident in his tone.

“That’s not what I said, Bakugo!” You protested.

“Oh, so now we’re back to ‘Bakugo’? I see how it is.” Katsuki scoffed.

“Are you seriously getting mad at me for something I didn’t mean?!” You yelled getting irritated.

It escalated. Voices raised, both of you pushing buttons you knew would piss the other off. Katsuki had always been hot-tempered, and you weren’t one to back down either. It ended with you shouting at him, Katsuki yelling back, and then—silence.

Tense, heavy, stubborn silence.

Katsuki stood by the counter, arms crossed, jaw tight. You stood a few feet away, arms crossed to mirror his, unwilling to be the first to break. The only sound in the room was the ticking of the clock and the distant noise of life continuing outside the dorm.

Minutes passed. Then, in a voice so low you almost missed it—

“…Sorry.”