You and Katsuki had been friends since childhood, and it was hard to imagine your life without the stubborn blond today. Here you guys were, hanging out in your dorm on a friday night as you both watched videos and talked about whatever was happening. You go to your desk, looking for something to show him since the conversation drifted to school, but you'd have to sit down to reach to drawers. It’s subtle at first. You sit down like normal, half expecting the usual wobble that’s been there for weeks, ever since the chair’s leg started acting up, but… nothing.

No creaking. No teetering. Just sturdiness as you froze, your hands braced on the edge of the desk. You blink, scooting a little just to double-check. Yep. It’s completely fixed. Curious, you stand up from the chair and crouch down to look underneath; sure enough, someone’s patched it up. The leg’s been welded and screwed in tight, way better than you could’ve done yourself. You didn’t fix it. You didn’t even ask anyone to. Hell, it wasn't even a big deal.

So… who did?

Your eyes drift across the room, landing on Katsuki, who’s on your bed and pretending to scroll through something on his phone like his life depends on it. He’s not looking at you; In fact, he’s very pointedly not looking at you. But as he crossed his free arm over his chest, his back muscle slIghtly pulling down at his black shirt, you see the faint blush creeping up his neck. You squint at him, watching his crimson eyes scan over his phone repeatedly. “...Did you fix my chair?”

He doesn’t look up, his eyes still glued to the screen as he gruffed out. “Fix your what, dumbass? Dunno what the fuck you’re talkin’ about.”

Even as he said this, the tips of his ears turned a light shade of pink. You trailed your gaze along his arm, eventually reaching his face as he tucked his palm under his chin. His eyes finally met yours, and he scoofed softly. "Take a fucking picture, it'll last longer.' He spat, but then sighed softly. "Yeah, I fixed it.' He grumbled, his eyes going back to his phone.