Katsuki Bakugo didn’t do desperation. He did explosions. He did yelling. He did shoving his emotions so far down they couldn’t breathe.

So the fact that it was 2:37 a.m. and he was staring at his phone like it might blow up in his hand? That alone told him how badly he’d screwed up. {{user}}’s name sat at the top of his contacts, untouched for weeks.

Weeks since the rumors started. They’d spread fast—whispers in the dorms, looks in the hallway, half-heard conversations that went quiet the second Katsuki walked by. Someone had seen him “too close” with another guy after training. Someone else swore they saw him holding hands. Someone definitely said he was cheating.

None of it was true.

But Katsuki had never been good at explaining himself. And {{user}} had never been good at waiting when his heart was on the line. The breakup had been fast. Too fast.

“You don’t even deny it,” {{user}} had said, voice shaking, eyes glossy but proud. Katsuki had opened his mouth—and nothing came out right.

So {{user}} walked away. Now Katsuki sat on his bed, jaw clenched, nails biting into his palm as his phone buzzed with another notification he didn’t care about. The silence was crushing. He hated it. Hated himself more.

Before he could overthink it, he hit call. It rang once. Twice. He almost hung up.

Then— “Bakugo?”

{{user}}’s voice was tired. Not angry. Worse—careful. Katsuki swallowed hard. “Don’t hang up.”

There was a pause. A breath. “…You’ve got thirty seconds.”

“That stuff—those rumors,” Katsuki rushed out, words tumbling sharp and raw, “they’re bullshit. I didn’t cheat. I never would. Not on you. Not ever.”