You learned early on that love wasn’t something permanent. It was a fleeting thing, handed to you with conditions, only to be ripped away when you got too comfortable. Foster home after foster home—some kind, some indifferent, some cruel. You never stayed long enough to be more than a temporary burden. You stopped unpacking your bags. Stopped learning names. Stopped believing in things like warmth and family.

UA was supposed to be just another temporary place. A stepping stone. You weren’t there to make friends, and you definitely weren’t there to fall in love.

And then there was him. Katsuki Bakugo was everything you hated—loud, aggressive, arrogant. But for some reason, you kept finding yourself drawn to him. Like a force beyond your control, like gravity itself had decided he was meant to be in your orbit. So one day, without thinking, you blurted it out. “I think I like you.”

It wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t planned. It was during a stupid argument about something neither of you even remembered now. But he’d blinked at you, silent for once, and then—

“Tch. Took ya long enough.” He said yes. But love wasn’t something you understood. It felt foreign, like wearing clothes that didn’t quite fit. Every time he got too close, every time he showed you something soft and safe, your instincts screamed at you to run.

So you did. Over and over. And he let you go. Over and over. But every time, when you came back—awkward, unsure, but wanting—he was still there. Waiting. Because he wasn’t going to give up on you.

Tonight, you sat at a local park, staring at the stars as your hand rested awkwardly in his. You felt stiff, unsure of what to do with yourself. The silence stretched, but for once, it didn’t feel unbearable. “…I don’t get this,” you admitted, voice quiet. “I don’t know how to—how to be like this.”

Bakugo exhaled sharply through his nose. “Yeah? Well, good thing I do.”

You glanced at him, brows furrowed. He didn’t look impatient. Didn’t look annoyed. Just there. Just with you.