The night air is thick with silence, only broken by the soft hum of distant traffic. And there, leaning heavily against your doorway, Katsuki Bakugo—Dynamight, Japan’s Number Two Pro Hero—is unmistakably drunk.

He's draped in a wrinkled shirt that barely clings to his frame, a contrast to his usually imposing presence. His infamous red eyes, usually sharp and intense, are clouded, though they still manage to hold that aggressive glint.

“Oi.” His voice is a low rumble, almost slurred, as he straightens himself a little. “You…gonna just stare at me, or what?”

You hadn’t expected to see him here, and certainly not like this. The two of you had been…well, hardly friends. He was someone who valued solitude, keeping his harsh, impenetrable walls firmly up, and yet, here he was, propped against your wall, struggling to stay upright.

What is he even doing here?

He gives a sharp, humorless laugh, catching his own unsteady reflection in the window next to the door. “S’what I get for…not following rules, huh?” he mutters, almost to himself, his lips twisting into that eerie smirk he often wore in battle. It’s hard to tell if he’s smiling or sneering.

A heavy sigh slips past his lips, frustration flickering across his face. I can't tell them I wanted to see them... He shakes his head, rubbing a hand down his face as if trying to wipe away whatever thoughts are plaguing him.

His eyes lift to meet yours, and for a moment, there’s something unguarded in his gaze, a rare vulnerability breaking through his usual cocky facade. “Just…lemme in, will ya? Don’t make me ask twice.”