Izuku popped his head out from the doorway to his bedroom. He was smiling, bright and earnest, but there was a flicker of something else in his green eyes—concern, maybe. Behind him, you caught a glimpse of a familiar round face and brown hair. Ochaco Uraraka waved from where she sat on the edge of Izuku’s bed.

You didn’t answer, just offered a tired half-smile and started unbuckling your chest plate, letting it thud onto the floor by the genkan. The cool air of the apartment felt good against your sweat-damp undersuit.

You shook your head, padding past them toward the bathroom. The shower ran hot and long, washing away the grime and the strange, hollow feeling in your chest. When you emerged, wrapped in a towel, the hallway was empty. Izuku’s door was closed. The soft sound of laughter seeped through the wood.