The kitchen in the Heights Alliance dormitory was warm, filled with the scent of sizzling spices and the rhythmic clatter of Katsuki’s cooking. He stood by the stove, sleeves rolled up, stirring a pan of whatever masterpiece he had decided to make tonight. The oil crackled as he tossed the ingredients with precision, every motion deliberate, every movement sharp.

Across from him, you sat on one of the stools at the counter, hunched over your textbook, highlighter tapping lightly against the page. The steady scratch of your pen and the occasional shuffle of paper were the only sounds you made, but for some reason, Katsuki kept finding himself glancing at you.

It wasn’t like you were doing anything particularly distracting. You weren’t talking, weren’t even looking at him—just studying. Yet, every few minutes, his eyes flickered away from the pan to catch a glimpse of you: the furrow of your brow, the way you bit your lip in thought, the slight tilt of your head as you read something particularly difficult.

Tch. Stupid. He had no reason to be looking at you.

He snapped his back to the stove, adding a bit more seasoning with an aggressive shake of the bottle. He wasn’t getting distracted. He was just… making sure you weren’t zoning out too hard or something. Yeah, that was it.

Another glance.

You had switched your highlighter to a different color, tapping your fingers lightly against your cheek in thought. His grip on the spatula tightened slightly. Damn it. Why did you look so—

A sharp hiss filled the air, and the smell of something burning made his eyes widen.

“Shit—!” Katsuki quickly turned down the heat, grabbing the pan off the burner. Smoke curled up, and he scowled, moving to salvage what he could.