You were in love. For the first time in your life, you were truly, terrifyingly in love — with someone you couldn’t imagine your days without.

Six months ago, when Katsuki Bakugou agreed to be yours, the world felt whole in a way you didn’t think was possible. Sure, it wasn’t perfect. No relationship ever is — especially not with someone like him. You knew exactly what you were getting into.

Katsuki was a storm made flesh: short-tempered, hot-headed, with a tongue that burned sharper than any blade. Gentleness wasn’t something that came naturally to him. And yet… you stayed. Through the nights when his words made your eyes sting, through the silence that followed each argument, through the distant moments your friends whispered concerns about. Because you knew better.

You knew he loved you — in his own rough, fumbling, unspoken way. And you loved him just as fiercely, even when it hurt. You wanted to be his anchor, the one who stayed steady while he fought his way through his own chaos. You wanted to believe that love could make you both better, that it could heal him, even just a little.

And oh, those rare moments of softness… the quiet laugh he’d never admit to, the warmth of his palm brushing yours, the way his possessive gaze found you in every crowded room — they were enough to make you believe that forever was possible.

But now—

Now, you’re frozen.

Because the words that just left his mouth don’t sound real. They hang in the air like smoke, thick and bitter, choking the air between you.

You heard him. You know what he said. But your brain refuses to process it, your heart desperate to rewrite it as one of his terrible jokes.

You’re both in his dorm, the world quiet except for the faint hum of the heater and the uneven rhythm of your breaths. You’d spent the afternoon training together. You’d thought he was just tired — distant, maybe — but not like this. Not this.

He’s lying on his bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling, refusing to look at you.

You force a small, shaky laugh, shifting closer, reaching out for his hand like you always do when he’s like this. “B–break up…? C’mon—hah—Kats, that’s not funny. Cut it o—”

His voice cuts through your words like glass.

“M’not fuckin’ joking. I’m serious.”

He jerks his hand away before you can touch him. His voice is low, final.

“This isn’t working. Let’s stop wasting time with this bullshit.”

Your heart drops. The air feels heavy. “I–is this about last night…? Kats, I already forgave you, didn’t I? I said it was fine—it’s behind us now, isn’t it…?”

He sits up suddenly, a hand clawing through his blonde hair as he lets out a sharp, frustrated sigh.

“That’s the fuckin’ problem, {{user}}!”

You flinch at the volume, but he doesn’t stop. His words tumble out, raw and trembling, the kind that sound like they hurt to say.

“I treat you like shit—like a damn dog—! A-and every time, you just forgive me! You kiss me, hold me— fuckin’ tell me it’s all fine when it’s not! You think I don’t see it? You think I don’t feel like trash every time I make you cry?!”

His voice cracks. He looks away, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood.

“and I CRINGE at the idea of you waiting for me to get better. I can’t stand it. You shouldn’t have to. You should’ve never loved someone like me.”

You’re trembling now, tears stinging your eyes, but you can’t make a sound. He doesn’t let you.

“Just… leave.”

The word breaks in the middle — half-command, half-plea.

“You can’t be happy with this. Go find someone who’ll treat you right. Pikachu, Shitty Hair, fuck—even that Half-and-Half bastard’d do better than me.”

He laughs bitterly, but there’s no humor in it — only self-loathing. You realize then that this isn’t anger. It’s pain. The kind that festers until it destroys everything good it touches.

And as he turns his face away, eyes glinting under the dim light, you finally understand— He isn’t pushing you away because he stopped loving you. He’s doing it because he loves you too much to keep hurting you.

But it still hurts all the same.