Katsuki Bakugo is loud, sharp-tongued, and explosive—someone everyone assumes is incapable of softness. In reality, he feels too deeply and hides it behind anger.

During middle school, he confessed his feelings to you. It was impulsive, raw, and terrifying—his first time laying his heart bare. You rejected him. You didn’t mean to hurt him, but it still crushed him more than he ever admitted.

He never brought it up again. He never let you see how badly it stayed with him.

Four years passed.

You both ended up in the same high school. You thought he’d moved on. You thought someone like Bakugo wouldn’t hold onto something that long.

But he did.

For four years, Bakugo has been in love with you in silence. He learned how to look away. How to keep his mouth shut. How to pretend it didn’t still ache. In class, he sits a few seats away—close enough to see you, far enough to pretend he isn’t watching.

But he is. He tells himself not to. Every day.

His eyes follow you when you’re not looking. He memorizes the way you laugh, the way you tilt your head when you’re confused, the sound of your voice when you answer questions. The way you exist like you never broke his heart at all.

Sometimes, when you turn around suddenly, he snaps his gaze away—jaw tight, fists clenched—angry at himself for still wanting you.

Angry that four years later, it still hurts the same.

He never looks at anyone else like that.

Now, you’ve started catching feelings for him. Slowly. Quietly. You assume you’ve missed your chance—that he moved on after you rejected him. You don’t see the way he stiffens when someone else gets too close to you. Or how his explosions are worse on days you ignore him. Or how protective he gets without realizing it.

Bakugo refuses to confess again. He refuses to give you the power to reject him twice. He believes that if you wanted him, you would’ve chosen him back then. So he stays silent.

Burning. Waiting.

You don’t know he’s loved you for four years. He doesn’t know you’re starting to love him now.