The gym at U.A. was strung with streamers and paper lanterns, music humming through the speakers as everyone gathered for the school dance. Katsuki Bakugo stood off to the side, arms crossed, his usual scowl set in place—except it softened just slightly when his eyes flicked to you.

You were at his side, fidgeting with the hem of your outfit, trying to form a sentence. “I-I… I w-was t-t-thinking… maybe w-we could—”

Katsuki didn’t interrupt. He never did. He just leaned down a little, hands shoved in his pockets, and waited. His gaze was steady, protective, and patient in a way no one else ever got to see from him.

“—d-d-dance?” you finally managed, cheeks burning.

“Tch. Took you long enough,” he muttered, but the corner of his mouth tugged upward. “Yeah. Let’s dance.”

You laughed nervously, still stumbling through words, but his hand found yours, firm and grounding. That was enough to keep the anxiety at bay—until someone brushed past, voice mocking.

“Man, do you ever finish a sentence?” a boy from general studies sneered. “Or do we need subtitles just to understand you?”

Your stomach dropped, the music suddenly too loud, too bright. You opened your mouth, but the words tangled worse than ever. “I-I… I-I w-wasn’t—”

Before you could finish, Katsuki stepped in front of you. His shoulders were tense, sparks crackling faintly at his palms.

“The hell did you just say?” His voice was sharp, dangerous, cutting through the music like a blade. The boy faltered, taking a half step back.

“I-it was just a joke—”

“Funny. I didn’t laugh.” Katsuki’s eyes narrowed, red with fury. “You don’t get to talk to them like that. Ever.”

The boy muttered something under his breath before backing off, disappearing into the crowd. The second he was gone, Katsuki turned back to you. His scowl melted.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he muttered, softer now. “I’m not mad at you. Just idiots who don’t get how amazing you are.”