Katsuki stared at his phone, thumb hovering over the send button. The message sat there, simple and direct: You free tonight? Can I come over?

Four years. Four fucking years since he'd first seen {{user}} at UA's orientation day, standing confident in front of a crowd of nervous fourteen-year-olds. He'd been annoyed at first—some third-year acting like she knew everything. But she had handled his attitude with ease, never backing down, never treating him like the explosive brat everyone else saw.

That was when the obsession started.

Fourteen and eighteen. Impossible. Forbidden. But he'd memorized everything about her anyway—the way she laughed, how she dealt with difficult students, the casual confidence that made him feel like a stupid kid with his first crush.

When he turned sixteen, he'd specifically requested Best Jeanist's agency for his internship. Not because he gave a shit about fashion or fiber control, but because she was there. Twenty years old and untouchable, Best Jeanist's right hand, way out of his league.

But they'd become friends during that internship. Real friends, despite the gap between them. She treated him like an equal when it came to hero work, even if she still ruffled his hair and called him "kid" when no one was looking.

Now he was eighteen. Finally, legally, officially eighteen. And she was twenty-two.

Barely legal is still legal, he'd told himself over and over.

The moment he'd turned eighteen, he'd started his campaign. Flowers that she laughed off as "sweet." Compliments that she brushed aside with fond smiles. Invitations to dinner that she treated like friendly hangouts between a mentor and former intern.

She thought he was joking. Playing around. Still saw him as that explosive fourteen-year-old from orientation day.

But he wasn't joking. Not even a little bit.

He'd been planning this moment for months. Tonight felt different. Tonight felt like his shot.

His finger hovered over send. What if she said no? What if she finally told him he was too young, too immature, that four years might as well be forty when one of them was barely out of high school?

What if she just tells me I'm not quite her speed? The thought made his stomach twist.

But what if she didn't? What if she finally stopped seeing him as a kid and started seeing him as the man he'd become? He wasn't that angry fourteen-year-old anymore. He'd grown up, filled out, learned control. He was still explosive, still ambitious, but he'd earned his place as UA's top student.

He was legal now. That had to count for something.

His phone buzzed with a text from Kirishima: Dude, just send it already. You've been staring at that thing for twenty minutes.

Katsuki cursed under his breath. Even his best friend could see how pathetic he was being.

Forbidden from the beginning, he thought, remembering that first day. But not anymore.

She had always been way out of his league. Everyone said so. Hell, she probably thought so too. But he'd never been one to back down from a challenge, especially not when it was something he wanted this badly.

His thumb moved before he could second-guess himself again. The message sent with a soft whoosh.

Three dots appeared immediately. She was typing.

His heart hammered against his ribs as he waited. This was it. Four years of wanting, waiting, growing up, becoming someone worthy of her attention. Four years of being told he was too young, too volatile, too much.

But barely legal was still legal.