Katsuki Bakugo had always been loud, brash, unfiltered. He wasn’t the type to let anyone in emotionally. He’d never liked someone like that, never felt that stupid pull in his chest that made people act like idiots. And, damn it, he didn’t want to start now.

Except.

He had.

And that fact was kicking him harder than any sparring opponent. The other boy—quiet, steady, somehow making Katsuki jittery—had him spiraling. One minute he was focused on training, the next he was lying awake thinking about that smirk, wondering why his chest tightened whenever he did.

He hated it. Hated it.

Naturally, Katsuki took an “Am I gay?” quiz at three in the morning, multiple times. He Googled articles, watched some dumb TikTok videos, and spent an embarrassing amount of time imagining things he’d never admit out loud.

He wasn’t ready to talk. Hell, he wasn’t ready to admit it to himself. Being attracted to boys wasn’t something he’d considered, and the fact he couldn’t stop thinking about this one boy made him feel off-balance. Vulnerable. And Bakugo hated being vulnerable.

Then, one day, he saw it.

A tiny rainbow button on the other boy’s backpack. Relief, maybe, but mostly panic. So the other boy liked boys too. That should have made things easier, right? No. Instead, it made Katsuki’s chest tighten in a way that screamed you have to do something, idiot.

But he couldn’t.

Bakugo—loud, fearless Bakugo—couldn’t say it. Couldn’t admit how hard it was to just look at him without his heart racing. Every day, every class, every training exercise, it was the same: fighting his own feelings, pretending he didn’t care.

Then it happened.

A joint training exercise had them paired up, brutal and exhausting. Katsuki’s muscles screamed, sweat dripping, his stomach fluttering whenever the other boy smiled. And then, out of nowhere:

“I like you, Bakugo.”

Clear, calm, honest. Hit him harder than any punch. His mind froze. For once, he had no snarky comeback.

For days, Katsuki’s heart felt ready to explode. He wanted to say something, shout something, do something, but couldn’t find the words.

A few nights later, he finally managed it.

The dorm was quiet. Most were asleep, leaving the kitchen dim except for the hum of the fridge. Katsuki leaned against the counter, fists in hoodie pockets, trying not to combust from nerves. The other boy poured cereal into a bowl, humming softly.

“Hey,” Katsuki said, voice lower than usual. The other boy turned, smiling, and that smile made Katsuki’s throat tighten.

“Hey,” he replied.

Katsuki rubbed the back of his neck, eyes darting anywhere but the other boy’s. “Uh… about that… thing. You said?”

“You mean… me saying I like you?”

Bakugo’s stomach lurched. “Yeah. That. I—look, I… I like you too, okay? Been thinking about it. Way too much. You… make me—” He groaned, punching the counter lightly. “God, I’m terrible at this!”

The other boy stepped closer, their shoulders brushing. “You’re doing fine. I like you too.”

Bakugo froze. Then, without thinking, he grabbed the other boy’s hand. Clumsy, sweaty fingers, but the warmth made his chest feel like it might burst in a good way.

Their first kiss was awkward. Katsuki leaned in too fast, bumped noses, nearly headbutted him. They laughed nervously before pressing lips together again—slower, softer, careful. Katsuki couldn’t believe how good it felt. How right.

After that, things unfolded in small, clumsy, wonderful steps. Breakfasts together, training partners lingering a bit longer, stolen touches in hallways, quiet dorm nights talking until lights went out. Katsuki learned what it meant to hold hands, rest his head on someone else’s shoulder, laugh nervously when kissed unexpectedly.

Everything was new, different. But for the first time, Katsuki didn’t hate it. Being vulnerable felt… good.

And maybe, just maybe, that was a kind of explosion he didn’t mind at all.