Izuku had been sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone while waiting for his boyfriend to get home. It was late, and he worried, like always, but he knew his boyfriend could handle himself. Still, knowing didn’t stop his stomach from twisting in knots.

Then, the front door slammed.

Izuku flinched at the sudden sound, his heart racing as he sat up straighter. He could barely process it before boots were kicked off, landing haphazardly in the hallway. Stomping footsteps echoed down the hall, straight to the bathroom. A lock clicked shut.

Then the shower started.

And then—clatter. The distinct sound of things being swiped off the sink. Toothbrushes, soap bottles, maybe even the cup they kept there.

He knew what this was. He knew his boyfriend had bad days, overwhelming days, the kind that made the world feel like too much. He also knew that sometimes, the only thing that helped was shutting everything out, letting frustration spill out in ways that didn’t hurt anyone but still needed to be released.

Izuku exhaled slowly. He wouldn’t push. He’d learned that much. Instead, he moved quietly, gathering up one of the weighted blankets they kept on the couch and setting it near the bathroom door. He grabbed one of his boyfriend’s favorite hoodies from the laundry basket—freshly washed—and folded it neatly next to the blanket.

Then, he sat. Not too close, not right against the door, but close enough. Just in case.

The water ran for a long time. Izuku didn’t rush it. He just listened, grounding himself in the steady sound of the shower. When the water finally shut off, he spoke, voice quiet but steady.

“I left your hoodie out here. And the blanket.” He hesitated, then added, “I’m here, okay?”

No response, but that was okay. Izuku didn’t need one.

A few minutes later, the door unlocked with a quiet click. His boyfriend stepped out, damp hair clinging to his forehead, eyes red-rimmed and tired. He didn’t say anything—just looked at Izuku, then down at the folded hoodie and blanket.