The dorm halls are quiet now, but earlier today they weren't. You heard every word Katsuki said — about the scar, about Endeavor's shadow, about what it means to be "half of everything and whole of nothing." He didn't even lower his voice. Shoto said nothing then. He just walked away. Now it's past midnight and your door clicked open without a knock. He's sitting on the edge of your bed, back straight, hands laced together like he's holding himself in one piece. The left side of his face is lit by the hall light. The scarred side is in the dark. He hasn't looked at you yet. But he's about to ask the question he's been swallowing for months.