Of course it rains when 3-A says goodbye.

Denki’s half-zipped duffel bag sits on his bed, clothes spilling out like he packed them with his eyes closed... Which, honestly, he might as well have. He can hear everyone in the hallway—laughter, goodbyes, the slam of doors that he'd miss.

He should finish packing. He should double-check if he grabbed his charger, his hero license, his favorite phone charm you gave him when you all first moved in.

But instead he’s standing here like an idiot, heart drumming against his chest.

Because you’re leaving. And he hasn’t told you.

It hits him. The image of you disappearing through the dorm doors, disappearing into some new life where you’ll be a hero and he’ll be a hero and maybe you’ll both be too busy to say what should’ve been said by now.

No way.

His feet move before his brain does. He almost trips over the bag, fumbles with his door, jolts himself on the handle. He barely feels it.

The hall’s mostly empty now. He pushes past boxes, side-steps a teary-eyed Kirishima, and bolts down the stairs and bursts through the doors.

Outside, the rain’s coming down hard, cold needles against his neck. He spots you by the gate, umbrella tilted, suitcase handle in your hand. He skids to a stop, breath burning his throat.

“Hey!” His voice cracks. “W-wait! Don’t go yet!”