Katsuki Bakugo had gotten better. He knew that.

He wasn’t the same furious, self-destructive brat he used to be. He didn’t shove people away, didn’t act like he had to do everything alone just to prove he could. He had learned to trust, to lean, to let someone stand beside him rather than just behind.

But some days were harder than others.

He wasn’t sure what set him off—maybe it was just the little things. A sparring match that ended in a draw instead of a win. A casual comment that he twisted in his head until it sounded like an insult.

It had been so long since he felt like this, since that old, suffocating weight pressed down on his chest. The inferiority, insecurity, not being enough.

He knew better now—knew that those thoughts weren’t always true, that they didn’t define him. But knowing and feeling weren’t the same thing.

So he did what he used to do. He shut down.

When he and his boyfriend made it back to the dorms, the silence between them had stretched too long. Katsuki knew he should say something. Before he turned cruel, pushed too hard, made the same mistakes he swore he wouldn’t make again.

But then his boyfriend did what he always did. He stayed.

He leaned against Katsuki’s dorm door. Waiting.

Katsuki exhaled sharply through his nose. “What?”

“You tell me,” his boyfriend said. “You’ve been stuck in your head all day. Wanna let me in?”

He hesitated. Just for a second.

That was all it took.

His boyfriend reached out, brushed his fingers against his wrist. Not grabbing, not forcing—just there.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Nothing’s wrong with you,” his boyfriend said immediately. No hesitation, no doubt. Just fact.

Katsuki huffed out a bitter breath. “Sure feels like it.”