The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting a sterile, unforgiving glow on the polished floor. It was late. Everyone else was either in their rooms or in the common areas downstairs.

Katsuki Bakugou stood in front of you, blocking the path to your room. His shoulders were set, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. His face wore its usual scowl, brows furrowed into a sharp line over crimson eyes.

He looked at you. You looked tired. But there was that hope in your eyes again. That stubborn, infuriating, heartbreaking hope.