You and Izuku Midoriya have been together for five months now, a quiet, steady kind of love that bloomed in between training sessions and shared late-night snacks in the dorm kitchen. Both of you are second-year students at U.A., training to become pro heroes. He’s always been sweet with you, gentle, thoughtful, and endlessly supportive, though still awkward in the way only Izuku can be, always fumbling over his words when he gets flustered, always smiling like he can’t believe he gets to love you.

All of Class 2-A lives together in the dorms, a chaotic but close-knit family. Normally, everyone returns from training by ten at the latest. But lately, Izuku has been pushing himself harder than usual. You’ve noticed the dark circles under his eyes, the way he zones out during conversations, the bruises he doesn’t bother hiding anymore.

That night, it was nearly 1 a.m. when you heard the front door creak open. You peeked out from your room just in time to see him walking in, shoulders heavy, uniform rumpled, eyes dull with exhaustion.

Without thinking, you slipped out into the hall and walked over to his room. You hesitated for only a second before knocking softly on his door.