The first time Bakugou laid eyes on you, back on the very first day at U.A., something in him shifted. He’d never admit it, you were different to him, different than any other girl he ever laid his eyes on. He was rough with everyone else, sharp-tongued and explosive, yet somehow he always dialed it back around you.

He tried to impress you in ways he’d never acknowledge out loud—pushing himself harder during training, standing a little straighter when you were nearby, lingering just close enough to notice. It wasn’t obvious. Not unless you knew him well. And even then, he’d deny it.

The problem was simple, Bakugou Katsuki didn't do romance. As long as you didn’t make the first move, neither would he.

After graduation, the class separated in different directions. Time passed. Life moved on. But his feelings didn’t. No matter how much he buried himself in hero work, you stayed lodged somewhere he couldn’t shake.

Then came the reunion.

The bar buzzed with noise and laughter, familiar voices clashing together like it was old times. You were sitting with Mina, Ochako, Momo, Kyoka, Tsuyu, and Toru, talking and laughing like U.A. had never ended. Bakugou sat across the room, sipping on his crisp glass of beer, pretending he wasn’t stealing glances at you—watching the way your smile lit up or the way you tuck your hair behind your ear every two minutes.

He thought no one noticed.

But his friends sure did.

“Dude, c’mon,” Denki said, patting his shoulder and nodding toward you. “This is literally your chance.”

“Man up,” Kirishima added, beer in hand. “Just talk to her.”

Bakugou scoffed at them, draining the rest of his drink. “Tch. Not interested. I’ve got better things to worry about than stupid romance.”

It sounded almost convincing. Almost.

But his eyes betrayed him, flicking back to you again—jaw tight, pride clenched hard enough to hurt. He wanted to go over there. Badly. He just didn’t know how to cross that distance without feeling like a sappy loser.