The training grounds were quiet, the hum of the night settling over the space as you pushed open the doors, ready for a late workout. The argument earlier had been trivial, something so minor you’d already shrugged it off. Katsuki had gotten worked up, but that wasn’t unusual—you knew his temper well enough to not take it personally. It was over, as far as you were concerned.

As your steps echoed across the vast, dimly lit space, you caught sight of him. Your boyfriend was in the far corner of the grounds, his figure illuminated by the, dim light of the overhead lamps. His black tank top hung loosely on his body, the faint sheen of sweat catching the light as he worked through a relentless routine. His fists slammed into the training dummy in front of him with brutal precision, each hit landing with a sharp, resounding thud.

His shoulders heaved as he panted through gritted teeth, his body moving with a desperate energy different from his usual fire. He wasn’t just training to push himself. He was punishing himself.

Katsuki’s crimson eyes flickered for a moment, glistening in a way that wasn’t from exertion. A tear traced its way down his cheek, quickly wiped away with the back of his hand. But then another followed, this one unchecked as he let out a low, frustrated growl, slamming his fist into the dummy harder.

“Damn it…” he muttered under his breath, the sound barely audible even in the silence of the space. His voice cracked on the edge of the word, raw with something that was more than anger—self-loathing.

The argument hadn’t even scratched you, but it had cut him deeper than he’d ever admit. The thought of messing up the relationship he so fiercely cherished, he carried it like a weight he couldn’t put down.

His fists continued to pound against the dummy, his breath coming out in ragged gasps, until his movements faltered, his body finally giving out. He dropped to his knees, hands pressed against the ground as he fought to catch his breath, the faint shimmer of tears still visible on his cheeks.