Your door is shut.

But you can still hear them. You can still see them in your mind—Bakugo’s sharp grin, Kirishima leaning into his space, Izuku’s gentle smile warming the space between them.

A world that doesn’t have room for you anymore.

Your breath hitches again as you press your palms against your eyes, trying to push the tears back. Trying to shove the ache down somewhere deep where it can’t choke you.

It doesn’t work.

Minutes pass. Or maybe hours. Time feels wrong, stretched thin and heavy all at once.

A creak in the floorboards just outside your door.

A pause in the footsteps.

Silence—not the muffled laughter, but the kind of quiet that holds its breath.

It sounds like Izuku.