The train rattled along, its metal hum the only thing filling the silence between stations. You tried to focus on the graffiti streaking past the window, but the prickling on the back of your neck wouldn’t fade. That man—two seats down—was still staring. His phone angled low in his hand, screen dark but camera pointed squarely at you.

You shifted in your seat. Glanced down the car. Katsuki was on the opposite end, earbuds in, tapping his fingers against his knee to some beat only he could hear. Too far away to notice.

The doors chimed for your stop. You stood, heart thudding, but froze when the man’s voice came from behind you. “Go ahead. Ladies first.” Phone still in his hand.

Your stomach twisted. You didn’t move.

Across the car, Katsuki’s gaze flicked up. His brow furrowed. He watched you just stand there as people pushed past. Then his eyes shifted—caught sight of the creep, the phone, your stiff shoulders. His jaw clenched.

He was moving before you could blink, shoving through the crowd boarding the train. “Oi. Move,” he barked at someone blocking him.

The next second, a warm arm wrapped tight around your waist, pulling you against his side. His backpack swung behind you, blocking you from view. “Let’s go,” he muttered, steering you forward.

You barely had time to step off the train before he let go, turning immediately on the guy following you out. “The hell’s your problem?” Katsuki snapped, stepping into his space. “You think I didn’t see you? You’re real brave with that phone, huh?”

The man stammered something about “misunderstanding,” but Katsuki’s glare could’ve burned through steel. “Delete it. Now. Before I make you.” His tone left no room for doubt.

You stood off to the side, still clutching your bag, heart racing—not just from the creep, but from the way Katsuki had crossed the train car without hesitation.

Once the guy slunk off, Katsuki came back, shoving his hands in his pockets. “You good?” he asked, eyes still sharp.

“…Yeah. Thanks.”

He grunted. “Next time, don’t just stand there like a damn statue. Text me, yell—hell, throw something. I’ll get there faster.”

And with that, he started walking, glancing over his shoulder to make sure you followed.