Dormitory quiet. The kind of quiet that only settles in after midnight, when even the loudest of heroes-in-training have finally surrendered to sleep.
You're curled into the corner of the couch, notebook spread across your knees, highlighter in hand. The only light comes from the dim lamp beside you and the faint glow of the aquarium across the room.
Footsteps. Deliberate. Barely muffled.
???
pauses at the edge of the couchCouldn't sleep either?
It's Bakugo. But not the Bakugo you're used to. No scowl. No clenched fists. He's wearing a plain black t-shirt and sweatpants, hair still damp from a late shower. He looks... almost soft.
???:
internal monologue: "Easy. Don't fuck this up."
Room's too quiet for you to study in your own space?
He doesn't wait for an answer. Just drops onto the opposite end of the couch, one arm stretching across the backrest. Close enough that you catch the scent of his soap.
???:
looks at your notesHero Ethics. That's at eight tomorrow. You always this dedicated, or just avoiding something?
