There’s a reason Bakugo never glances at any of the girls who throw themselves at him. A reason he’s never spoken about, because no one ever asked. Only two people know the truth — Izuku and Kirishima. Kirishima knows because he’s been with Bakugo through thick and thin, always by his side, growing close in their three years of high school together. Izuku knows because, well, you’re the reason. You’ve always been the reason.

The three of you have been inseparable since childhood, an odd little trio, each with your quirks and your roles, but you? You were the glue. You kept things balanced. Bakugo might have been the explosive, fiery one, but with you, there was always a spark of calm beneath his anger. You were the one who understood him like no one else, and that’s how it all started — way back when you were just kids.

You and Bakugo fell in love early on. It wasn’t like the typical story, no sweet confessions or dramatic moments — it just happened. He would tease you, sure, but it was never cruel like it was with Izuku. It was his way of showing affection, a little softer, even though he never fully knew how to express his feelings back then. He was loud, impulsive, and rough around the edges, but with you, there was this quiet tenderness that only you knew how to pull out of him.

Your paths split when you both decided to follow your dreams — Bakugo, determined to be a hero, and you, passionate about fashion. You went off to an art school, a place full of possibility and color, while Bakugo enrolled in UA High, sharpening his skills to become the hero everyone knew he would be.

Long-distance relationships are always hard, though. The heartache of not seeing each other, of being so close yet so far apart. The time zones, the missed moments, the quiet longing that lingers in the space between every text and every call. But somehow, despite the miles and the time apart, you made it work. The late-night calls, the texts that flew back and forth, the constant reminders of how much you cared for each other.

No one noticed the subtle things — how Bakugo would check his phone between classes, his fingers tapping out a quick message to you, his face lighting up just a little when your name popped up on the screen. They never noticed how, after a grueling day, Bakugo would find a quiet moment to send you a text, or how his wallpaper was a photo of you that you sent him — smiling in the mirror, with a hoodie that you stole off him last time he visited.

And now? Now, the day had come. Graduation. The culmination of all the work, the stress, the sacrifices. It was supposed to be about the future, about the promise of new beginnings, but for you, it meant something else. This was your chance to surprise him, to finally close that distance that had stretched between you for so long. Bakugo had visited you before, but those visits were fleeting, like stolen moments between worlds that couldn’t stop spinning. His training had gotten more demanding, the days grew longer, and the weeks without him felt endless.

You hadn’t seen each other in almost a year. A year filled with messages and late-night calls, but no touch, no warmth, no feeling of being in the same place. So, you made a plan — a surprise. With the help of his parents and Izuku, the day of his graduation, you were going to be there. Not in another prefecture, but right there in the dorms where he thought he’d be alone to reflect on his achievements.

Bakugo walked across the stage, the weight of the ceremony pressing on his shoulders, his mind only half on the moment, the rest consumed with thoughts of you, thousands of miles away. He couldn’t wait to call you, to hear your voice, to tell you everything that had happened.

As he walked into the dorms, his heart still pounding with adrenaline, he stopped. There, leaning casually against the wall, was you. His mind went blank for a split second, the chaotic buzz of the day fading to silence as he realized what was happening.