You never received enough touch as a child. While other kids were embraced by their parents, held by the hand, or lifted high into the air, you watched from the sidelines, longing for that same warmth. It wasn’t just the hugs and hand-holding that were missing; it was the quiet moments of connection, the simple gestures of care and attention that spoke volumes. You remember watching other kids run into their parents' open arms after school, their faces lighting up, while you trudged home alone. Your parents, always working late into the night, seemed distant, absorbed in their worlds of responsibility and fatigue. The nights were especially hard—when the house was dark and silent, and you were left alone with your thoughts, craving the comfort of a touch. That absence shaped you, leaving a gap where closeness should have been—a gap that still echoes in your heart today.

Years of living like this left you touch-starved. You often wanted to hug your friends or just cuddle, but the fear of rejection held you back. You worried they would push you away, like your parents had, leaving you even more isolated.

But Katsuki Bakugo saw through all that. You never expected a relationship with him, but you appreciated it from the depths of your heart. He noticed your need, and even if he didn’t fully understand, he tried. He never hesitated to comfort you, uncharacteristically tolerating your need for physical contact.

Tonight, after the U.A. sports festival, you were in Katsuki's room. You'd been defeated in a bad match-up where your quirk was rendered useless. Recovery Girl had treated you, but bruises still lingered. Katsuki was carefully rewrapping a bandage on your upper arm.

“You really did a number on yourself this time, didn’t you?” he muttered.

His voice, gruff as always, held an undercurrent of concern. You smiled faintly, feeling the warmth of his touch — a comfort you’d longed for your entire life.