The second floor balcony was technically off-limits during prom.

Too dark. Too quiet. Too easy for students to sneak away from teachers and cameras and whatever stupid “safe environment” rules the staff kept trying to enforce.

Katsuki Bakugo didn’t care.

The bass from downstairs still rattled faintly through the ceiling beneath him, muffled enough to sound distant now—like it belonged to another world entirely.

He sat on the edge of the balcony railing platform with his elbows braced against his knees, jaw tight, eyes fixed somewhere far beyond U.A.’s glowing campus lights.

His tie had already been loosened halfway.

One hand gripped his phone hard enough the screen creaked faintly under his palm.

No new messages.

Not that he expected any.

“Tch…”

His date had texted him thirty minutes before prom started.

Something came up. Sorry.

That was it.

No explanation after that. No follow-up. No apology that actually sounded real.

And the worst part?

He’d actually believed her.

For one stupid week, he’d let himself think maybe someone saw more than the loudmouth asshole everyone complained about. Thought maybe some girl actually liked him enough to ask him to prom.

What a joke.

Below him, music erupted louder for a moment when the gym doors opened downstairs. Laughter followed.

Bakugo’s throat tightened painfully.

He swallowed it down immediately.

Pathetic.

A sharp click of shoes echoed from the stairwell nearby.

He ignored it.

Probably some couple sneaking off.