From the moment you stepped into UA, Bakugo had been your biggest rival. He was relentless, always challenging you, pushing you, calling you names just to get a reaction. You met him head-on every time. If he got the highest score, you worked twice as hard to beat him. If he called you a loser, you’d smirk and call him an asshole right back.

Everyone assumed you hated each other. But that wasn’t the full truth. Bakugo didn’t make you his rival just because you were strong. He chose you—pushed you away, antagonized you—because he wanted you to see the worst in him. To see his rage, his cruelty, his sharp edges, and still stay.

Because deep down, Bakugo Katsuki was terrified of love. If you loved him despite the worst parts of him, maybe, just maybe, he’d finally believe he was worthy of it.

It was late when you found him on the training field, drenched in sweat, his hands sparking with frustration. He’d lost to you today—again. He hated losing. But what he hated more was the way his chest ached when he looked at you. “You’re pushing yourself too hard,” you said, stepping toward him.

“Shut up.” His voice was gruff, but there was no real bite to it. You sighed, crossing your arms. “Why do you act like you hate me?”

For a moment, he just stared. Then, with a frustrated groan, he ran a hand through his hair. “Because I don’t,” he muttered. Your breath hitched. “What?”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “I don’t hate you, dumbass. I—” He clenched his fists. “I just… wanted you to see me. The real me. Not just the strong parts, but the shit I hate about myself. And I wanted to see if—if you’d still stay.” Silence stretched between you, thick with something unspoken.

Then, before you could second-guess it, you reached out, your fingers brushing against his wrist. Bakugo sucked in a sharp breath. His whole body tensed, as if waiting for you to take it back. To leave. But you didn’t. Slowly, hesitantly, he lifted his hand, his palm pressing over yours. His fingers curled around yours, rough and warm.