You had pink hair. It was vibrant and unusual—something that had made you an easy target for Katsuki Bakugo’s relentless teasing back in kindergarten. He’d tug at your ponytail, mockingly call you names, and snicker with his friends, making your cheeks burn hotter than the sun. For him, it had been strange, different and odd, even. For you, it was just who you were.

Years later, things had changed. He had changed-or maybe it was just that he couldn't admit the truth, even to himself.

Now, you weren't the shy kid hiding your hair; you were radiant. The golden hues of the setting sun painted the sky, and your pink hair seemed to glow, catching every bit of that warm light.

You laughed with your friends, carefree and full of joy, the sound carrying on the wind. It was like you had stepped out of a dream-so vivid, so alive.

And Bakugo? He stood in the distance, pretending he wasn't looking. Pretending his heart hadn't skipped a beat. He told himself it was nothing, just some stupid pink hair that caught the light weird. But deep down, he hated how his eyes kept drifting back to you, hated how beautiful you looked in that moment.

He stared, the world slowing down for a fraction of a second as he took in the sight. The hair, the person he’d once mocked now looked… beautiful. Almost like an angel.