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Izuku rubs his eyes tiredly as his fingers fail, once again, to open the plastic package in his hand. Frustrated, he tosses the parcel onto his desk and deflates into the chair. 

He’s been studying for this biochemistry final for six hours straight now, yet he still feels nowhere near prepared enough. 

His gaze falls to the scattered, empty energy drink cans littering his half of the dorm room. It only took three days to go through the 12-pack case he bought. 

Touching the tips of his socked toes to the floor, he lazily rocks back into the forgiving backing of the seat. He stares challengingly at the concealed caffeine stickers with a crinkled nose.

Izuku didn’t think he would be reduced to such desperate measures.

Ochako gave these to him months ago after finding out how many sugary drinks he was consuming.

For weeks she continuously shoved alternatives at him, “These are all-natural, and their goal isn’t to kill you.”

He had laughed her off but politely accepted the item to appease her. Knowing that he would toss it in the depths of his drawers with no further intention.

But it’s at 2 o’clock in the morning, and Izuku feels like he’s on death’s doorstep. He has to make it through the rest of the night, all the way right up until the exam. 

So… Energy bandaids it is.

He sits back up in his chair and reaches for the package again. With shaking, crooked fingers he successfully tears the top off with a huff of pride.

He haphazardly slaps on as many as he can, not knowing how much would be enough but making sure he has some for later.

As a last-ditch effort to pull any extra tension out of his body, he stretches his arms over his head with a painful squeak.

His bones reek in distress as he drops forward to find where he left off.

Izuku has a bad habit of numbing out his surroundings when he gets into a constant concentration stream.

And the sudden screeching of the fire alarm was definitely a startling reality check.

His pencil skids across the page as he jumps, knees colliding into the wooden surface. He winces at the offending sound, squinting at the new binding light spastically illuminating the small room.

His eyes sluggishly blink to the clock on his roommate's nightstand, shoulders deflating in defeat.

Three o’clock in the morning. 

His brain buzzes uncomfortably with the potential of the rest of the being derailed.

Izuku cannot afford this right now. 

Granted, he is the only one to blame for this cramming session. But it’s such a common routine that it’s his ‘normal.’ 

With a groan, he tucks his pen in his notebook, then tucks that in his textbook as a placeholder. He heaves the stack into his arms and catches the strap of his backpack with his foot to drag it over. 

He doesn’t think twice about sweeping his arm across the desk, much like cleaning up crumbs, and funnels it all into the bag. It takes a tremendous effort to balance the belongings as he picks everything up.

He recenters himself with a sigh and trudges to his roommate’s bed.

“Kiri.” He weakly shakes the redhead, exhaustion dripping from his voice, “Kirishima, the fire alarm is going off.”

After living together for the entire semester, Izuku has Kirishima Eijirou’s habits down to a science.

He constantly misplaces his homework. He never has a working pen on him. He always has a bag of beef jerky in his backpack. And he’s very picky about the brand of his hair dye. 

But most importantly, Kirishima will not get up before 11 am. 

The first time Izuku had discovered this was during another unfortunate scene of an impromptu fire drill. 

He began panicking when his roommate hardly budged ten minutes into rattling him vigorously. On top of the shock that the blaring of the alarm wasn’t even helping. 

When Kirishima had finally blinked his eyes open, he was met with the sight of a nervously sweating and trembling Izuku.

“I thought you were dead!” he cried, blubbering and snotty. 

Looking back on it, it had been a bit dramatic on Izuku’s part. But his overthinking mind projected the worst-case scenarios onto a person he was still getting to know. So the relief that hit him when the redhead finally woke up almost killed him. 

Kirishima had just laughed sheepishly, wincing about scaring the other boy, “Sorry about that, I sleep like a rock.”

So they spent months finding a system for these kinds of emergencies. 

And Izuku secretly enjoys it. 

With a small smirk, he reaches down and pinches Kirishima’s exposed ribs — an easy action since the guy never wears a shirt in their room. Even with a single attempt, it’s enough to wake his roommate with a jolt. 

He takes a simple step back, watching as the redhead gathers his bearings. Groaning as he understands the meaning of the tickle-monster-routine. 

“Thanks, Mido.” Sluggishly shoving himself out of bed. 

Izuku hums in response and tiredly waits for his friend to grab his necessities. 

His arms begin to ache from the weight of the textbook in his hands, and he quickly shifts them to his hip. A sudden ping of anxiety shoots through him like he’s forgetting something…

The thought immediately gets buried. 

“Alright, let’s do this. Hopefully, it doesn’t take an hour and a half like last time,” Kirishima sighs, grabbing his keys and yanking the extra-throw blanket off his bed.

The two make their way to the hallway and trudge to the stairway. The other students funneling down are in no better shape. All rubbing their eyes, some with comforters around their shoulders, and all with grumpy frowns.

“Which floor do you think set it off this time?” Izuku hears someone ask behind him.

“Probably the sixth floor again, they’re always fucking smoking up there,” another voice answers. 

“What’re you cramming for tonight?” Kirishima jostles his hair teasingly.

“Lay off,” he scoffs, shoving back and almost making them both tumble down the stairs. “Biochem, the final’s in the morning.”

His friend mocks a gagging sound, “I don’t know how you do it. I couldn’t get past regular Chemistry.”

“I never said I was passing.” Izuku sighs, shouldering the back door. The sharp air immediately pierces his skin, making him shiver violently and squint in discomfort.

“There you go again, prioritizing studying over your well-being,” Kiri snorts knowingly, having seen this mistake before. “Bringing a textbook instead of a jacket.”

Damn, so that’s what he was forgetting. 

Though neither of them mentions the blanket his roommate brought down, that’s for a particular someone. 

“I thought about it,” Izuku says mindlessly, bringing his textbooks to his chest like they’re doing to shield him from the weather.

“Yeahhh, that doesn’t count.” Kiri taunts, crossing the street away from the building. The bright flashing lights of the firetruck are as comforting as the stupid alarm itself. 

The two platonically break off without a word, Izuku going to the far right of the sleepy crowd. 

The reality hits him again as the books feel heavier in his arms. The brain finally reprocesses the prioritized task of the night — studying. 

His roommate shoots him playful finger guns from afar and trots over to a group of students he knows. 

Another thing that Izuku has trouble keeping up with when it comes to Kirishima — he’s a people person. Not that it’s entirely a bad thing, but his close friends are…

A bit much.

Nothing against them specifically, they’re all lovely people and are relatively nice to him. Not hesitating to acknowledge and greet him on campus or going out of their way to try and rope him into their casual hangouts.

However,

Now is not the time.

Izuku is tired, irritated, and burnt the fuck out.

He plops down hard enough that his hips hurt and tosses his backpack aside with no remorse. Cracking his neck and falling back into his hunched position, and opening his equipment.

Just as he finds his last spot—

“And there’s the resident fucking dork.” An annoyingly familiar voice calls out to him milliseconds before his pen hits the paper.

He especially doesn't have time for him tonight.

“Kacchan.” He sighs, not pausing his attention to give the guy a second glance, “Not now, I’m trying to study.”

Bakugou Katsuki, the bane of Izuku’s existence.

He’s snarky, arrogant, rude, and brash. He’s an outrageous hothead, verbally demeaning, and as apathetic as a brick wall. How he became one of Kirishima’s best friends is a fucking mystery to everyone with eyes.

But the most upsetting part is the soul-sucking, heart-string-snapping crush Izuku has on him.

Which doesn’t make a lick of sense to the small boy. Considering that Katsuki treats him like he’s an insignificant weed that needs to be ripped up and discarded.

But Izuku’s heart can’t help it.

The narrow red eyes psychologically pick him apart while making his knees quiver. A gravelly voice that only insults him and sends shocks down his spine. A presence that can’t stand him but one that Izuku craves. 

Pity that such a beautiful face has an enraging attitude. 

“Yeah, I can see that,” the blond snarks as he hangs over Izuku’s hunched form, frowning at the pages, “The hell is that, anyway?”

“Biochem, ever heard of it?” he snaps back without skipping a beat, glaring up at the infuriating boy. 

“Being a smartass tonight, huh?”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He turns back to his notes.

There’s tension between them as Katsuki stays strangely quiet, not making a move to continue their aggressive banter. 

Izuku brushes it off with a scoff, considering the lack of response as a blessing, and gets back to reading. Immersed back into his study, he scribbles something down.

“You spelled that wrong.”

“Kacchan!”

“Just saying.” He shrugs mockingly as his red eyes zero in on a freckled arm. 

Izuku stills and his stomach drops as he realizes what the other one has noticed. Katsuki quickly snatches his wrist with a yank to get a closer inspection, “Now, what the hell is this?"

Very ready to end this conversation, Izuku pulls away from him, “Nunya.” 

“I swear, Deku, if those are nicotine patches—”

“Jesus, Kacchan, they’re just caffeine patches! Happy now?” He puffs out a breath, the steam of his air lingering momentarily reminding him how cold he is. 

He frowns deeply, a short shiver trembling through him. His ego was wounded at the accusation of using the drugged bandaids.

A thin eyebrow is raised at him, almost knowingly. “Run out of your stupid energy drinks?”

“Lucky guess.”

A heavy silence fills the air and Izuku knows that Katsuki is waiting for an explanation. 

His face is neutrally stone cold, devoid of a snare or upfront anger. His thick arms are crossed over his puffed chest. He’s balancing his weight on his back foot, appearing even taller from Izuku’s position on the ground. 

The placating manner he’s giving off is scarier than his normal attitude. 

Izuku almost wishes he was being yelled at.

“I have to study,” is all he can get out while trapped in the daring hold of a piercing red gaze. 

“That’s been established. I’m stuck on the fact that it’s half past three in the morning and you have nine of those things on one arm.”

Oh.

He didn’t realize how many he packed on.

“They don’t do that much anyway.”

“Right, so the tremors in your hands and the obnoxious bouncing of your legs is just a coincidence.”

“It’s cold.” Words coming out faster than he can think and horrifically realizes the next—

“Because you don’t have a goddamn jacket .” 

“Alright, that’s enough. I’ve already heard it from Kirishima.” Izuku deadpans, turning his back now that he’s being aggressively lectured again.

“This is the third time this has happened, Deku.” The statement is blunt, but there’s no detection of annoyance.

“Oh, so we’re keeping score now?”

Katsuki delivers a quip ‘ tch .’

Izuku rolls his eyes and goes back to his work. With a heavy sigh, he rereads the same question for the twelfth time.

Nonenzymatic glycosylation, or glycation, creates glycoproteins by…

Okay, he’s pretty sure it’s the chemical addition of sugars to polypeptides. Since this type of glycosylation is nonenzymatic, the time and the concentration of sugar control glycosylation. Because people with higher circulating levels of glucose have higher levels of—

Izuku was startled by the next interruption. Being smacked in the head by something with a light gasp. 

He hastily yanks the material off, shaking his curls and clearing his vision. 

It’s… a jacket?

He whips around, green eyes shining in wishfulness. Katsuki is propped against the nearest tree, scrolling on his phone with a bored expression. 

Now jacket-less. 

“Thank you, Kacchan,” Izuku whispers, irritation loosening in his chest. 

He slides his arms in the too-big sleeves, fingertips several inches away from the cuff. He wraps it closer to him, nuzzling his chin on the puffy collar. 

His nose is invaded by the sweetly spicy scent of Kacchan. 

Roasting fires with small hints of sugary caramel. 

“Do better next time, nerd.” Said with a gentle huff. 

Several minutes go by. The fire department has finally turned off their strobing lights, and students are tiredly hanging off of each other. 

Sluggish footsteps catch Izuku’s peripheral. 

“Mm’ hey Blasty,” he recognizes Ashido’s voice. 

He faintly looks up as she drops limply against the blond. Cuddling his shoulder. 

“Hi Midoriya,” she covers a yawn, black makeup smudged under her eyes. 

Her pink hair is tucked protectively on a bonnet, a fluffy robe of the same color tied around her waist. Her slippers being the only other color of cheetah print purples. 

“Hi Ashido,” he greets politely, giving a hesitant wave. Immediately regretting it as the woman smirks.  

“I spy Katsuki’s jacket on someone who isn’t Katsuki,” she giggles as the mentioned man knocks her off him. 

“I forgot mine,” Izuku squeaks nervously. Anxiety falls like lead in his stomach as Kaminari stumbles into the circle cloaked in a suspiciously familiar blanket. 

Not this. 

Not now. 

“I think the universe is punishing me for refusing to pull an all-nighter because now I’m being forcibly awakened for a less important reason.”  

“You should be more like Midoriya,” Kirishima crowds in, tossing an arm over his crush, “He brought it with him out here.”

The smaller boy curls into him shamelessly, nuzzling under his chin. “Hmm, but he studies enough for all of us.”

Exhausted chuckles ripple through the small group, making Izuku’s ears and cheeks suddenly heat. The teasing conversation hit his emotions. 

Fueled solely on nerves, he rips off the coat, silently mourning the warm scent. He fumbles with it, eyes printing with embarrassed tears as he tosses it back toward the group. 

Thankfully, he hears the All clear call to return to the dorms. So he haphazardly closes his textbook, snatches his bag, and scurries away.

Izuku is used to people picking and poking at him because of his study habits. But it always feels different when it’s your roommate's friend group . 

And adding Katsuki’s whiplashing attitude in front of them only makes it worse. 

Not that he can’t hold his own, he knows how to sass and joke back. But… tonight is not the right night for that. 

He isn’t surprised when Kirishima catches up with his short strides. A worried look on his face as they fall in step. 

“Hey, you alright?”

“Yeah, just—” He wipes his keycard to unlock the front door, “I have a lot to do right now.”

“Yeah, I know,” his friend says with a sympathetic sigh, jogging to catch the elevator door for them. “This semester has been tough on you.”

Izuku can only slump in fatigue at the horribly true statement and mumbles out a default response, “It’s almost over.”

This has been the worst academic year of his life. All his courses have been absolutely demoralizing — exams every two weeks, massive research projects every month, and a suffocating amount of extensive analytical papers.

He had to quit his part-time job because of his lack of time management, which is only sinking him further into his rapidly increasing debt. He’s astronomically lucky that Kirishima has fit taking care of the overworked boy into his routine. 

Making sure he eats, maybe has some real water, eventually gets some sleep, and even helps him study sometimes.

The worst part of all of this is that Izuku hasn’t had time to travel back to see his mother. Even if a college student shouldn’t worry about their mother, his mom was different. 

She is special.

Midoriya Inko is an absolute saint of a woman.

She made a keen habit of calling her son every Wednesday during his break and pestering him for neglecting his welfare. Then goes into sobbing uncontrollably, and promising to make his favorite meal when finally he has time to visit. 

The elevator dings as it reaches the boys’ floor, the door opening as sluggishly as Izuku feels. 

He eyes the blocked-off study room in the corner of the lobby, steps faltering.

“You good?” his roommate calls out, holding open the door to their hallway.

“Yeah, I just think…” He has to quickly rearrange his books as they slip his grasp, “I’m going to try sitting out here.”

Soft red eyes trail to the designated area and back to the smaller boy, “You sure?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Izuku waves him off lazily. “I need a change in scenery.”

“Alright dude, got your key?”

“In my pocket.”

“Alright, well, at least take my jacket until you get back. Come get me if you need something.” His dorky friend slides his coat off, tossing it over, and offers him a two-fingered salute as he steps into the hallway. “Good luck.”

Izuku stands for a moment, staring at the spot Kirishima had been occupying. A warm sense of gratitude fills him as he slings the jacket over his arm.

God, why can’t he crawl into bed too? He’s still bitter about his roommate having all afternoon classes even now.

But he makes his decision, turning toward the isolated room and getting settled inside. 

The concept of time is quickly slipping from Izuku, eyes burning as they scan sentence after sentence. Writing note after note. Turning page after page. 

In the distance, he hears the soft ding of the elevator. 

He doesn’t bother to look up, eyes swimming in too many science equations. And not caring to give the other all-nighter another glance. 

He tries to block out the shuffling sounds, thoughts skidding to a halt. Concentration shifts to wait for the person to go to the dorm halls. Mind trying to find anything else to focus on. 

But he blinks when the door to the room opens, and green eyes drag up to peer through his curls. 

Nothing could have prepared him for the red eyes already staring back at him. 

“Kacchan?”

The blond rolls his eyes with a grunt. He drops a heavy stack of books on the table and drops his backpack. 

Izuku is still in stock as Katsuki sits down. 

“What’re you doing here?” He asks bluntly, not in the mood to continue to defend himself. 

Katsuki makes a show of his hands over the textbooks and repeats the Famous Izuku Line, “I gotta study.”

His face hardens at the mock, he’s had enough teasing for one night. 

“You aren’t one to stray away from your precious bedtime for that reason.”

“Says the one that doesn’t ever fucking sleep,” he says dismissively, “Now shut the hell up and lemme focus.”

Izuku bluescreens as Katsuki settles in, casually sliding over a thick textbook and pulling a water bottle from his bag. 

He continues to watch him, actions still on pause at the unbothered attitude. 

Questions are bouncing around in his muddled brain. 

Kacchan doesn’t live on this floor, so why go out of his way?

And he’s definitely not one to be working into the early hours of the morning. 

Maybe Kirishima—

“Ain’tcha supposed to be working, Deku?” Katsuki flicks his eyes up as he turns a page, twirling his pen between his fingers. 

He has to quickly look down at his work, heat flooding his cheeks for outright staring. But Katsuki continues writing notes. 

He hums thoughtfully but decides not to argue. The man isn’t causing any harm yet, and he always enjoys Kacchan’s company.

And Kacchan’s right. Like Always.  

Izuku has shit to do. 

The two boys work in a strangely peaceful silence for quite some time. The only lulling sound is the soft scratch of pen on paper and the occasional page turn. Otherwise, neither of them speak. 

Which is less beneficial than Izuku was hoping. 

He has his chin propped in one hand and is sluggish taking notes with the other. His eyes burn and his joints are tight with stress, and his fingers locking up by the minute. 

“Deku.”

Normally, the sound of his crude nickname leaving Katsuki’s mouth abruptly would make him jump out of his skin. The direct attention always causes his nerves to spike and his breath to hitch.

But not tonight.

Green eyes trail up, his notetaking hand falls slack, and a distant hum comes from his throat. 

“When’s the last time you slept?” There’s a symbol of concern on the usually angry face. Sharp eyes scan over his face.

Izuku blinks slowly at him.

“What’s today?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Deku—”

“It’s finals week Kacchan,” he sighs, slouching forward and digging the palms of his hands into his eyes. “This is my last chance to get my grades up to keep my scholarship.”

Katsuki falls quiet, one might think he’s stumped for an answer. But that couldn’t be Kacchan. And definitely not because of Izuku. 

“What time is it?” the near delirious student whispers, begging the universe to give him enough to bargain with.

“Five past six.”

“Hm. Okay, that’s just enough time to finish the last set of notes and make a quizlet for everything. The coffee shop in the library opens at 7am, so I can sit in there until I have to go to class.” Izuku rakes his hands down his face, propping his elbows on the table. “I can handle that.”

“When the fuck are you going to sleep, huh?” Katsuki says sharply, snapping his fingers in his face.

Izuku bats away the slender hand in front of him, “Probably after that. Have to see—”

“ Immediately, after that.” 

Red eyes narrow at him, but they aren’t full of anger. There’s almost a soft bend in those thin eyebrows and a small downturned lip.

“Okay Kacchan,” Izuku sighs with a tired smile, if only to appease the conversation. Then falls back into position, chin in hand and finger rolling painfully around his pen. 

“Last time I slept was on Monday,” he whispers sadly, an alarmed cough coming from Katsuki because that was two days ago .

It’s almost over.

“What is a catabolic enzyme?” Katsuki reads aloud from the notecard in his hand.

“It cleaves a molecule into two or more parts,” Izuku says like a broken record, staring blankly at the ground as they walk to his exam.

The blond hums, flipping to the next card. “What are the properties of an amylase?”

“It breaks down starches into sugars, it is a component of human saliva, and…” Izuku scrunches his face, forcing his brain to produce the last answer. “Oh! And high serum levels may indicate pancreatic inflammation."

“Not bad, nerd,” Katsuki snorts, handing over the stolen iced coffee. It had been taken as an incentive to be quizzed. 

“Thanks, Kacchan,” He shakes the sleeves of Kirishima’s jacket over his hands to grab the chilled drink and takes a long swig. “Let’s hope it’s enough.”

“Oh, come on,” he scoffs in annoyance, stuffing his hands in his pockets, “You could answer all of these in your sleep.” 

“But can I answer everything correctly while being conscious?” The shorter boy laughs through a yawn before composing himself, “Thank you for the company, Kacchan.”

Izuku never would have imagined that this was how his all-nighter was going to go. 

Starting from the moment Kacchan willingly seemed to join him (He’s still slightly suspicious of Kirishima’s initial involvement). And not in an insensitive way, he truly sat down and worked. 

But… Kacchan doesn’t study with others. 

He’s either locked down in his room, with a big ‘Fuck Off’ sign that hardly anyone respects. Or at a secluded table in the back of the library with noise-canceling headphones. 

And then, Kacchan stayed. 

When Izuku cleaned up to move to the library he expected Katsuki to dip out. Figured the man that’s so hellbent on his sleep schedule would retire with an anal attitude. 

Instead, he was met with calculating red eyes and a heavy sigh as Katsuki packed his own belongings and said, “This does not mean that I’m condoning your behavior.”

Clearly a comment about the caffeine pumping through his veins and the detrimental lack of sleep fueling him. 

And Katsuki didn’t step in to prevent him from ordering a double shot in his cold brew. When usually Ochako deadlegs him and politely changes the order. 

He did, however, cut in to nab it before the small boy and held it out of reach, “Gimme your note cards and if you get four right, you can have this monstrosity back.”

It took a minute for Izuku to agree, being childless and stubborn about his drink. But they’ve been in a loop for the last forty-five minutes. 

Katsuki asked four questions, rewarded with a drink, and then snagged it back to continue. 

He had never seen this side of the usually explosive personality. 

Snarling insults, shrugging off conversations, with a time-ticking temper was more his speed. 

Not the gentle pokes to his forehead to keep him awake, engaging in study to keep him coherent, or the total trust of blinding following him to the exam room. 

“Tch,” the iconic scoff brings Izuku back to the present, “You’d be dead asleep by now if I weren’t here.”

“You’re probably right,” Izuku hums, falling cross-legged on the floor in front of his lecture room.

He has a few more minutes to keep going over his flashcards before he needs to take his seat. Might as well grind until the last second, right?

“I’ll take my cards back now.” He hovers a hand limply in the air. His eyes follow Katsuki as props himself on the wall to his right. 

“Kacchan?”

“No, Deku,” he says, taking a gentle sip of his hot tea.

The blunt statement leaves no room for arguing. But if there’s anything Izuku is good at, it’s arguing with Katsuki.

“I really don’t need this right now, Kacchan. Can I please have my cards back?” He holds his arm out further for emphasis. 

“Listen here, ya damn nerd.” A heavy hand tangles into his messy curls. “You tryna fry your brain before goin’ in? You’ve got ten minutes, cool it, will ya?”

The freckled boy goes to argue, because who does Kacchan think he is refusing to give him his study materials when he’s this close ?  

And just as he’s ready to voice his frustration, the hand on his head starts massaging his scalp. 

His arm falls slack and drops like a bag of flour into his lap at the smoothing message. His eyes droop involuntarily and his shoulders hunch forward, tension leaking out of his body.

Goddammit.

He’s a lot more exhausted than he thought. 

Even though his protests come to a screeching halt, Katsuki doesn’t stop soothing through his hair. 

An easy silence floats between the two, neither in a state to address the intimacy of the action. 

In a moment of weakness, Izuku’s head tips forward, the weight of his brain finally taking a toll on him. 

Katsuki catches him with a scoff, shifting to guide him to lay against his thigh. 

He doesn’t have the energy to make a snarky remark about such a docile touch from normally aggressive hands. Instead, he wholeheartedly accepts the gesture.

Once again, twice now in the last 24 hours, Izuku is bathed in the intoxicating scent of Kacchan. This time a hint of coffee wafts through the air, mixing with the usual aroma of caramel. 

The nibbling fingers in his hair continue to scratch at him as soon as he goes still again.  

He nuzzles into Katsuki’s thigh, taking a deep breath of the peaceful atmosphere. The calmest he’s been in weeks. A weak whine tickles his throat. 

Right before he dissociates completely, the loud clatter of students echoes down the hall. A ping of anxiety tickles his spine as he cracks an eye open. 

The lecture room is now accessible, and an unorganized crowd floods the entrance. 

Izuku is reminded of the impending doom of what he’s about to do. 

Has he done enough?

There are so many— 

“Just wait until the crowd dies down,” Katuski softly suggests, having easily picked up on the exhausted boy’s anxiety.

Izuku can’t help the pathetic whimper that slips out and buries himself into the blond’s muscled thigh.

He attempts to calm his drumming heart as the noise quiets down, the lingering students showing the same signs of defeat as him. 

Heavy feet dragging their slouched bodies and deep bags under their eyes that actually make him feel better about his own. 

“Alright,” Izuku sighs, using every ounce of his will to get off the floor and steady on his feet. 

He runs his crooked fingers through his now detangled hair, “Thank you again, Kacchan. I’ll see you later.”

Without thinking, Izuku leans back in. Rubbing his cheek against his thick bicep, hand hovering over his forearm. But he pulls away just as fast. 

It’s different when Katsuki initiates physical contact first versus when Izuku invades.

“Good luck, nerd,” he doesn’t point it out gesture, “Go fuck it up.”

He can only smile, rapidly running out of the ability to keep conversing with such low energy. Turning to walk away from the one person he badly wishes he could stay with.

It doesn’t take long for Izuku to find a seat, seeing as no one ever wants to sit at the front of the class. But after one glance at the stairs, he knew he would die if he tried. 

He drops heavily into the chair, opening his backpack to get out everything he needs. As he tucks his notecard away, something else catches his eye. 

The torn open pack of patches. 

A fleeting remembrance of when he swiped every off his desk before leaving for the fire drill several hours ago. 

He debates for a moment as his hands hover over the parcel.

Fuck it.

He takes it out, slapping as many as he can on his free arm and trying to find places to fill in on his other.

It’s almost over.

Katsuki had been outrageously irritated when Eijirou first texted him. 

He didn’t care. 

He didn’t want to care. 

The fire drill was a disturbance enough. Ripping him from sleep to throw him out into cold weather. 

‘Midoriya’s staying out in the study room in our lobby. Not sure when he last slept.’

There was nothing in the text that asked him to do anything about the situation. There was no direct question asked, just a simple statement. 

But of course , the buffoon felt the need to share this with Katsuki. 

He rolls his eyes and decides not to respond as he lets himself into his room. Only to stall momentarily, hand on the door. 

His roommate gives him a tired stare, “In or out dude?”

He growls but snatches his backpack and turns on his heel. 

He had to regain himself after stepping into the elevator. Processing the change in his already disrupted night. 

But it’s gone by smoother than he could have hoped. 

It was clear that Deku was teetering on the edge. The deep bruises under his eyes, the unnatural downturn of his lips. His usually rounded and rosy cheeks are pale and hollow. His nest of green curls is frizzy and puffy in a crazed way. 

It set Katsuki on edge, chest tightening at the thought of leaving him alone. 

And now, he watches the boy drag his feet over the threshold to the source of the problem. 

Katsuki lets a shaken breath out his own. The last several hours have been grueling, he almost wonders how Izuku made it this far.

He feels more dead than alive and he detests the amount of caffeine in his system. 

The trembles through his shoulders ground him, pushing off the wall and running a hand through his hair. 

Eyeing a bench nearby, he rolls his neck and crosses over to it with a sigh. The tea he got from the coffee shop has already gone cold, so he tosses it into the trash can. 

The lecture room door closes loudly, cutting off all access to entry. The halls fall eerily silent and Katsuki’s thoughts drift back to Izuku. 

…Had he been… petting him?

It was too lengthy to be classified as a head pat. And too intricate to call it a message. 

Then the nerd…cuddled into him…

Well, technically Katsuki only saved him from cracking his head open on the tile. But felt the need to hold him a little closer, taking control of his position. 

He could feel Izuku melting into his trust, hearing him deeply breathing in his cologne. And going obediently still against him. 

The warm feeling that spread through his chest at that moment made its presence known on his cheeks. But the scowl on his face didn’t match the warranted emotion. 

What the fuck is up with that ?

If it were anyone else, Katsuki wouldn’t have even bothered . But Deku is a different kind of bothersome. 

Bothersome in the way that makes him frustratedly flustered. The sweet smile that follows no matter what he says. The kinder words he speaks. 

Gross.

No, Deku is just fucking reckless. Someone has to keep the loser in check.

As he settles down on the bench, pulling out his phone for mindless time-wasting he tries to tell himself that he isn’t worried. 

He just wants to make sure the nerd keeps his promise and sleeps sooner rather than later. Otherwise, the tyrant will continue at full throttle. 

——

Just as Katsuki figured, Izuku was one of the first people to walk out of the room, completing the exam.

He has his head down, a hand hovering over his mouth and a finger tapping his lip. The classic sign of his mumbling habits and second-guessing his efforts. His energy level isn’t in any better shape than it was an hour ago while they were studying. 

But the violent tremors in his scarred hands tell Katsuki that his nerves are fried beyond repair.

“Deku,” he calls out lazily, already having packed up his bag in preparation. 

“Kacchan?” The head turn is slow, eyelids drooping as their gazes meet, “What’re you still doing here?”

“Thought I would trust you to actually sleep after this? You’re going to fester until reports come out.” He stands, slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

A light pink tint shows under the boy’s freckles and he diverts his eyes, “Can you blame me?”

“Yes. Now give me your arm.”

Deku cocks his head at the demand, “My arm? W-why?”

Katsuki knows that all he has to do is wait, the boy doesn’t last very long under his stare. So, all he does is hold out his hand expectantly.

His pale face scrunches in confusion but offers an arm.

“Other one,” Katsuki snips.

Green eyes widen as they look for what he’s looking for. Both arms are suddenly tucked behind his back, underneath his bag. 

A thin eyebrow is raised as his face falls more stern. “Now, Deku.”

It only takes a handful of seconds before he slumps, opting to showcase both arms to get this over with. 

Katsuki doesn't hesitate to grab them, forcing the sleeves up of the jacket Kirishima gave to him.

He gawks at the new amount of patches littering the boy’s freckled forearms.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” he rumbles.

“I just needed a small pick-me-up,” Izuku whispers, knowing full well that his retort isn’t going to fly.

“You used the rest of them didn’t you?”

The only response he gets is an awkwardly cleared throat.

“That’s what I thought. Let’s go.” Katsuki turns and walks towards the exit without any further explanation.

“Where are we going?” Just like a puppy on a lease, the shorter student jumps to keep up with his longer strides. 

Katsuki doesn’t want to express his genuine concern, so he communicates the only way he knows how. 

He doesn’t.

Izuku isn’t put off by his sudden silence, knowing that demanding a reply is going to get him nowhere. So instead, they fall into a cozy silence. The loudest sound between them is the tired sound of dragging feet and consistent yawns. 

It doesn’t take long for his pace to decrease to the pace of a goddamn snail. The baggage on his back looks like it’s getting heavier by the second. 

“Jesus, you fuckhead,” Katsuki sneers.

“What did I do now?” Deku whines pathetically, hands gripping the straps of his bag and hoisting it higher up his shoulder. A clear sign he can hardly carry it. 

“Gimme that.” He grabs the bag by the top handle and eases it off, watching as it instantly alleviates him. 

“You shouldn't have to carry that.” He complains sympathetically, rubbing his eyes harshly.

“You obviously can’t.” Sharp red eyes roll with a sense of annoyance, “Can you at least make it back to the dorms?”

He hums, looking off in the distance at their building. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

Katsuki doesn’t ignore the fact that he knows that is not true in the slightest. He takes a moment to truly analyze the moron. 

Izuku looks ready to absolutely crumble. Heaving breaths and swaying feet while looking at him with glossy eyes.  

Counting the 48 hours he’s gone without sleeping, and the soul-sucking drain of finals week, it’s obvious that he’s ready to collapse at a moment’s notice. 

“Kacchan, if we don’t start moving right now I am going to fall asleep right here,” he states bluntly.

“You’re so useless,” Katsuki scoffs, but his tone gives away a hint of adoration. He turns his back and crouches down, with a soft beckon of, “Come on.”

He was ready to argue with Deku about the request, always one to fall into a flushing fluttering argumentative mess. 

But there was no hesitation in sliding his weight onto Katsuki. A heavy chest fell on his back making him stumble shifting to guide his legs over his hips. 

“Okay,” a gentle whisper floats into his ears, as he hops them into place and picks up their bags.

He resumes his trek, not at all affected by the boy on his back. Slowly, rough hands soothe up his shoulder blades and down to his collarbones. A tickle that makes his stomach churn as Izuku nuzzles his neck with his nose. 

Katsuki can’t help the sharp breath he takes in, and he weakly follows up with a cough. His face warms when he hears the nerd hum in amusement. 

Somewhere along the way, Izuku falls asleep, his breath evening out and his body going completely limp. 

Katsuki shakes his head, changing the destination in his mind.

He gets them both to the dorm, taking an embarrassingly long time to swipe his access card correctly with all his new belongings. When he gets to the elevator, he pushes the button for his floor and digs through his pockets for his keys.

Tired purple eyes zone in on them as soon as he opens the door to his room. 

Shinsou chuckles and sarcastically asks, “Midoriya?”

“Can it, Eyebags.”

He holds his arms up in surrender, shrugging playfully.

Katsuki shuffles around to his bed, bumping into everything possible. He props Izuku on the mattress, bookbags sliding off his arms. He grips a thick thigh with one hand and a slender wrist in the other. 

He manipulates the small boy carefully enough to not wake him. He successfully manages to get the jacket off him and locates the All Might blanket that was left here last time. 

He tosses it over Izuku, red eyes zoning in on his patch-covered arms as the boy stretches around in his sleep to get comfortable. 

Thirty minutes later, Katsuki is sitting at his desk, fingers sticky with residue. Three bowls of warm water and a tremendous amount of scrubbing later, those pale arms are completely clear of evidence.

It wasn’t surprising that the nerd didn’t wake up during the entire process since he hadn't slept in two days. Now that he has a chance to relax, he’s gone. 

Katsuki swivels in his chair, checking one more time that the boy is still asleep before taking out his textbooks to finish his own study guides.