Katsuki Bakugo stood outside the door to his boyfriend’s dorm room, his hand hovering over the handle. He gritted his teeth, irritation bubbling in his chest, though not for the usual reasons. This was different—a specific, sharp embarrassment that made his palms twitch with heat.

It had been a few weeks since his mom had dragged him, practically kicking and screaming, to the optician. He hadn’t even realized just how bad his vision was until he’d put on the damn test lenses and, for the first time in years, saw things clearly without squinting. Not that he’d ever admit that to anyone, especially his boyfriend.

The whole thing had been humiliating. His mom’s smug “I told you so” look, the optician’s pitying smiles, and worst of all, standing in front of a mirror trying on glasses while the receptionist cooed about how good he looked in them. Katsuki had barked at her to shut up, but her words had lingered in his mind—and not in a good way.

He refused to let anyone, especially his boyfriend, witness any of that. So, he’d handled it all on his own. Well, mostly. He’d picked out the least obnoxious pair of glasses he could find and waited until the dorms were quiet to pick them up. Now here he was, glaring at the door like it had personally offended him, fully aware that once he stepped inside, there’d be no hiding them.

“Ugh, screw it,” he growled under his breath, shoving the door open with more force than necessary.

His boyfriend was sprawled on the bed, a textbook open in his lap, though he looked up immediately at the sound of Katsuki’s entrance. “Hey, you’re—” The words died on his lips, replaced by a wide-eyed stare.

Katsuki froze, his usual bravado faltering under the weight of that look. He shifted awkwardly, one hand rising to shove at the frames perched on his nose. “What the hell are you staring at?” he snapped, his voice harsher than he intended.