You sat beneath the old oak tree behind the dorms, knees drawn up, fingers twisting a daisy until the stem bent beneath your touch.

Maybe he likes me. Maybe he doesn’t.

Another petal dropped to the dirt, shriveling slightly in the dry breeze.

It wasn’t like you to overthink. But something about him—Katsuki Bakugo—made everything feel more complicated.

You’d met during your first joint training session with Class 1-A. He’d come in hot—explosive temper, sharp tongue, always ready to fight. He hadn’t looked at you twice that first day. Not until you knocked him flat during sparring.

After that, something shifted.

It didn’t happen all at once. Just… slowly. In pieces. Heated banter. Side-by-side workouts that turned into post-training meals. Words softened over time. So did the insults. You learned to translate his scowls into concern. He learned to stop hiding how often he watched your back.

Eventually, he trusted you. Katsuki didn’t trust people easily.

Now, you knew the way he liked his food spicy enough to burn. That he never listened to music while training—it distracted him. That sometimes, when he couldn’t sleep, he’d pace the halls like he was searching for a version of himself he hadn’t fully become yet.

You also knew the way your chest tightened when he was near. How even silence felt different around him—louder, heavier.

Still, you said nothing.

Another petal drifted down.

Maybe he likes me. Maybe he doesn’t.

A shadow crossed your lap. Heavy. Familiar.

You didn’t need to look up. You could already feel the heat of his presence, the slight tremble of the ground under his steps, like even gravity bent for him.

He didn’t speak at first. Just stood there, arms crossed, probably wondering why you looked like an idiot picking a flower apart like some extra in a romance movie.

“What the hell are you doing?”

But this was how you dealt with it. Quietly. On your own.

He’d always made it hard to be subtle, though. Katsuki Bakugo noticed things, even when he pretended not to. Especially when it came to you.

You could feel his eyes on you. Not in confusion but something else. Something that made your stomach twist in ways that had nothing to do with nerves.

But you stayed quiet. Just dropped another petal.

Because that was easier than admitting you’d spent weeks unraveling everything he didn’t say. The way he’d brush your fingers handing you your water bottle. The way his voice dropped just slightly when he said your name. {{user}}.

But maybe it was just how he was. Maybe he was like that with everyone. Maybe you were just projecting—hoping.

Maybe he likes me. Maybe he doesn’t.

You never asked. Not because you were afraid of the answer. But because you didn’t want to break the fragile thing you already had.

With Katsuki, nothing was ever halfway. If he wanted something, he charged at it. But this—you—he’d never chased. Not outright. And you didn’t know what that meant.

The breeze rustled the leaves above, but everything beneath them held still. Like even the wind was waiting. The final petal fluttered from your hand. You look down onto the now petal less flower.

You didn’t turn to look at him. But you felt him move—just a step closer. The grass crunched beneath his boot.

Maybe... he does.