(️✓) MARIA, BNHA VARIOUS

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤENDING.

Here's the thing about (L/N) (Y/N). She's—well, completely unbearable on a good day, but, most importantly— not afraid. Unlike everyone else, she isn't afraid of Katsuki. No matter what he does, she just stares at him head on, unperturbed. It's not like he expected anything less when they've known each other since they were little kids.

Still, it's unsettling. It makes Katsuki want to grip her by the shoulders and shake her until he finally gets a reaction from her.

Which is why, during the night when they're all sweaty from too much sparring, he wipes the sweat off his forehead with the edge of his t-shirt, even though it's so soaked that it clings uncomfortably to his back, and gritted out, "Hey, Kowai, I can go again. Let's get this over with, I don't you to make me stay up until 11 again."

His lungs stings when he takes a breath, but no one needs to know that.

(Y/N) lifts her head up. Sheen of sweat sticking to her forehead, but she looked fine besides that. She isn't even breathing hard. "...It's not like you'll die if you don't get to sleep at 8:30 but alright."

Sparring with her is simple. Almost like a routine. Katsuki can't really articulate why, but watching her make an effort for him had always made him feel— good.

A small bit of satisfaction that took root at some point and stubbornly refused to stop growing. Katsuki doesn't know how to rip it out. He isn't sure he wants to. It's a little terrifying.

"I'll beat you," he announced.

The (H/C) haired girl arched a single eyebrow as if to say, "I'm sure you will." She doesn't smirk smugly but her face looked like it might if she did. She's a good fighter. She has to be with all the relentless training that went into making her one.

Katsuki wondered, sometimes, who (Y/N) would be without that. If he would have liked that girl. If that girl would've liked him. More often than not, just like right now, he shakes his head to get rid of the thought and plunges head-first into whatever he's doing.

He tried to land the first hit. She took hold of his wrist. Her hands were never warm, always cold and calloused but Katsuki's skin felt too hot. Whenever the stoic teen touches him like this, there's a small part of him that gets the urge to surrender, let go, and simply let her.

But he doesn't know how to ask for that. Can't ask for that. So he breaks free and tries to land another hit. This time, the ash blonde manages to graze her. Her dull eyes narrowed as she went dor a hit of her own, but Katsuki dodges. They go back and forth like this for a while, neither landing a hit, until, somehow, (Y/N) manages to swipe his feet out from under him. He fell with a harsh thud, eyesight growing blurry.

He's breathing hard, and it only quickens when she puts a hand on his chest and leans down. "You're tired. Overworking isn't good," she stated, like she's actually concerned, which— inexplicably, hurts. Her cold hand was cold. It's kind of a relief. "You don't have to try so hard. It's just me. It's just a quick spar."

"I do," Katsuki refuted. Doesn't this fool get it? Of course he has to. "I fucking do."

Her gaze goes a little quizzical, her hand is still on his chest. "Why?" She asked and her voice was stoic as usual, cold as her hands. "Things are— supposed to be— different now. You don't need to impress me anymore so I don't get why you're being like this with me recently."

Katsuki's heartbeat speeds up. And— God, it's horrible. Maybe it's the exhaustion or the bitterness of losing or some other form of temporary delirium, but all he can think about as he met her eyes is, "Because I like you, you idiot. I'm so gone for you, it ain't even funny!"