The afternoon slowly settled over the training field, the silence broken only by footsteps and the wind. You watched Katsuki Bakugo—your best friend for years—train relentlessly. Over time, your feelings for him had deepened, and though you couldn’t admit them aloud, every glance or gesture from him made your heart race.

You approached quietly, though you knew Bakugo was always aware.

“What do you want, idiot?” he barked without turning, but with a crooked smile only you could catch.

You stopped a few meters away, trying to seem relaxed. “Just wanted to train with you a bit,” you said softly, searching for his eyes.

He didn’t look at you, but his usual sharpness wasn’t in his voice. “Tsk. What makes you think I want to train with you? I’m not your ‘training buddy.’”

You stepped closer, careful not to overstep. “I just thought we could… train together sometimes. Maybe if you help me, I could improve my power control.”

Bakugo went quiet for a moment, analyzing your words. His face softened slightly. “Do whatever you want,” he finally muttered, still pretending not to care—but you knew better.

You sat nearby, just watching him. Your heart beat faster every time he moved, every time his power flared with control. You wondered if he knew how much you admired him.

Over the following weeks, you grew bolder—offering water, asking about his technique, finding excuses to be near. They were small acts, but to you, they meant everything. One day, after training, you sat beside him, gazing at the horizon.

“You know,” you said shyly but firmly, “I like when we train together.”

He glanced at you, surprised. Something in his look shifted—a flicker of realization, maybe even understanding. The silence turned peaceful, warm. You didn’t need to say everything aloud; you felt he was starting to understand.

For now, just being near him was enough. You had hope that, one day, he’d see you the way you saw him.