Little Ms. Independent.

For as long as Katsuki has known you, you've always been fiercely independent. It's something that defines you—your ability to handle things on your own. You've always seen help from others as a weakness, when someone offers assistance, it feels like an unspoken judgment, a silent suggestion that you’re incapable of managing on your own. That’s why you avoid asking for help at all costs; it’s a principle that’s been deeply ingrained in you, a shield you’ve built around yourself.

Katsuki, of course, has that same mindset. He prides himself on standing tall without anyone’s hand holding him up. He’s known for his fiery pride, his strong attitude when it comes to handling problems and battles. But with you, it’s different. He doesn’t understand it fully, not at first, but something about you—maybe the way you refuse to ask for help or the stubbornness that runs through your veins like his own.

It’s not about pity or feeling sorry for you; no, It’s more like an instinct he can’t fight, a need to ease the weight on your shoulders, even when you won't admit it's there.

He watches you out of the corner of his eye, his sharp gaze catching your tense posture as you scribble something down, eyes narrowed in concentration. You've been at this problem for a while now, your brow furrowed in frustration as you try to make sense of the numbers.

Katsuki grits his teeth, tapping his fingers on the desk, You hate admitting when you don’t know something, and the last thing he wants is to make you feel like he’s judging your intelligence.

Finally, he can’t take it anymore"It’s 3.00 x 10^8," he mutters, barely loud enough for you to hear. His voice is rough, like he's annoyed, but not really..

You blink, surprised that he’s even paying attention, let alone offering an answer. Something about his presence—the way he doesn’t expect you to say thank you, the way he just offers it like it's no big deal.— The way that he spoke didn’t make you feel as you are dumb.