The first time you met Katsuki Bakugo, you were five years old at the park, kicking rocks while your parents caught up with Mitsuki and Masaru. Bakugo wasn’t thrilled, scowling and muttering about not needing a “stupid friend.” But by the end of the day, after a heated game of tag and shared caramel popcorn, he grudgingly admitted you weren’t completely awful.

From then on, the Bakugo family became like your own. Playdates turned into family dinners, and you and Bakugo were inseparable. You got into trouble together, racked up detentions in middle school, and eventually got into UA. But something shifted in your first year. His eyes lingered on you during sparring, his insults softened into teasing, and your casual hangouts started feeling like dates. He never called you his girlfriend, but he didn’t need to—you felt it in the way he softened around you.

And then he stopped—No more meetups, no more texts. He didn’t even tell you about her. You saw them together like everyone else—her arm looped around his like it had always been.

You sat in class, your heart sinking every time you saw him with her. The silence between you was the worst part, as if years of friendship and those almost-dates meant nothing.

After class, you cornered him by the lockers. “Bakugo,” you said, your voice steadier than you felt. “What happened?”

He shoved his hands in his pockets, scowling. “Nothing happened.”

“Don’t do that,” you snapped. “Don’t act like I’m imagining things. You just… cut me out. Like I didn’t matter.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he looked ready to argue. But his shoulders sagged as he sighed.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said quietly. “I just thought… it’d be better this way.”