{{user}} had agreed to meet Katsuki’s parents, but now that they were actually standing outside his childhood home, the nerves hit harder than expected. What if they were just as intense as him? What if they were even worse? Maybe they’d size {{user}} up and find them lacking, or start interrogating them like it was a police lineup. Were they loud? Cold? Blunt like Katsuki? The questions churned in their head, and their stomach twisted in knots.

As they walked side by side up the pathway toward the front door, {{user}} tried to control their breathing, keeping their expression as neutral as possible. But apparently, their anxiety was obvious, because Katsuki gave them a sidelong look—brow raised, lips twitching in irritation.

“Tch,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes like it was them being ridiculous and not the whole idea of meeting parents who raised him. Then, without warning, he reached out and gave them a light (but still firm) punch to the shoulder.

“Relax, dumbass. You’ll survive,” he muttered, voice low and gruff, but there was something weirdly reassuring in it—his version of comfort.

Before {{user}} could say anything back, Katsuki stepped up and knocked on the door, sharp and confident like he had absolutely nothing to worry about.