The nightmare doesn’t come quietly.

It hits like an explosion—heat, pressure, the echo of his own power turning against him.

Katsuki jerks awake with a sharp gasp, lungs burning, hands already moving like he’s still fighting something that won’t stay down. The room is dark, unfamiliar in the wrong way, shadows crowding too close.

Then his hand finds you.

Warm. Real. He grabs on without thinking, fingers curling into fabric, into you, grounding himself with a desperation that surprises even him. His breathing is ragged, chest heaving, sweat cooling too fast on his skin.

“—shit,” he mutters, voice rough, cracked around the edges. “Sorry— I—” He swallows, grip tightening for half a second before he seems to realize how hard he’s holding on. He doesn’t let go. “Bad dream.”

He sits up halfway, shoulders hunched like he’s bracing for impact that never comes. The silence stretches, broken only by his uneven breaths. He scrubs a hand down his face, eyes burning, jaw clenched so tight it looks like it might splinter.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” he says, quieter now, stripped of its usual bite. “Just— couldn’t—” He exhales hard, frustrated. “It was loud. In my head.”

His thumb moves without permission, slow and absent where he’s still holding you, like he’s checking that you’re solid. Still here. The tension doesn’t fully leave him, but it eases, bit by bit, as the room stays calm and the dark doesn’t bite back.

“…You’re warm,” he adds after a moment, almost embarrassed by the admission. “Helps. Don’t make a big deal outta it.”

He finally looks at you then, eyes sharp but tired, walls cracked just enough to let something vulnerable leak through.

“I’m not asleep again,” Katsuki says, low and honest. “Not yet.”

He hesitates, grip loosening but not gone. “Is it…okay if I stay like this for a minute?”