You hadn’t meant to hurt him.

It was late—one of those nights at the dorms where everyone was half-delirious, joking, spilling snacks across the common room floor. Kaminari had tossed a gummy worm at you, smirking like the menace he was.

“So you and Sero,” he grinned. “Is it official, or are you just casually stealing his hoodies and cuddling on movie nights?”

The others laughed. You did too.

You rolled your eyes, half-hiding your smile. “It’s casual, obviously.”

You didn’t notice Sero standing in the doorway. Not until the laughter stopped.

He didn’t say anything. Just looked at you. Quiet. Blank. And then turned around and walked off.

At the time, you thought: He probably didn’t hear it.

You were wrong.

The next day, Sero didn’t meet you before homeroom like he usually did. No smile. No warm “hey, sleepyhead.” Just empty space next to your desk.

He sat near Kirishima instead, head down, earbuds in.

During lunch, you saw him across the cafeteria, arms folded, chatting with Kaminari and Mina—but never once looking in your direction. His phone buzzed. He pulled it out, typed something.

Later that day, while scrolling, your breath caught.

On his story:

“If it’s casual, then why’d you tell me you loved me?”

The world fell out from under you.

Was that… about you?

Your fingers trembled as you typed.

“Is this about me?”

You stared at the three dots, your chest aching. Then his reply came. All at once.

“Who else would it be about?” “You held me when I cried.” “Now you’re making me cry.”

Your throat tightened. You didn’t even realize you were shaking.

You texted back fast.

“Sero, wait—can we talk? I didn’t mean it like that.”

No reply.

And then… the screen turned gray.

Blocked.

You didn’t sleep that night.

His voice echoed in your head—how he’d once said you made him feel safe. Like he didn’t have to joke all the time, like someone actually saw him.

You thought about the little things.

How he made sure your headphones were untangled every morning. How he remembered your favorite snack and always had one hidden in his backpack. How he looked at you like you weren’t just another student, another face in the crowd.

You stared at the wall until sunrise, hoodie pulled over your knees—his hoodie, the one you’d called casual.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.