Rooted In These Walls

Oh god, he thought, oh god, oh god, oh god. His teachers were on the other side of the door. He was wearing nothing but one of Katsuki’s shirts, which was loose enough that it fell off one of his shoulders, and pyjama pants with holes in the knees. He still had obvious hickeys on his neck. He was answering the door to what his teachers thought was the Bakugou household very early in the morning, having very obviously spent the night. Like he did every night because he lived there. Only his teachers didn’t know that. “Oh god,” he said again, this time out loud, starting at the door in front of him. He couldn’t just not open it, right? They’d already seen him, and obviously, they had a reason for being there; they wouldn’t just leave, right?