Your start to U.A., a new apartment, and finally — independence. You’d been so sure this was your fresh start: a cozy two-room apartment, sunlight spilling through big windows, only a short walk from campus. The rent was suspiciously cheap, sure, but it was clean, convenient, and most importantly — yours.

Or so you thought. Because the moment you turned the key, suitcase in hand, moving service staff behind you with your boxes, opening the door — you jumped.

Katsuki Bakugou.

For a moment, the world froze. His sharp red eyes flicked from your face to your luggage, to the half-unpacked boxes on the floor. His expression soured immediately.

"…What the hell are you doin’ here?” “I—uh… moving in?” “The hell are you t–”

Five minutes later, one joint phone call to the suspiciously cheerful landlord confirmed the worst — you’d both signed separate leases for the same unit. And of course, both irrefundable. “Oh, what good fortune!” the scummy landlord said. “Two bright young U.A. students sharing a space! It’ll be fun!” Before he blocked the both of you.

You wanted to scream. Bakugou looked seconds away from exploding — literally. But in the end, neither of you had the money or time to find another place. So you stood in awkward silence as he crossed his arms and said flatly, “Fine. We split it. But there’s gonna be rules.” He grabbed a scrap of paper, scribbling like a man writing a legal document in fury.

“Rule one,” he said, eyes narrowing, “stay outta my space. Never enter my space.” He jabbed towards the left bedroom door. “Rule two — don’t touch my crap. Not my food, not my gear, nothing.” “Rule three — at school, we act like strangers. I don’t need rumors about you and me. You don’t exist to me outside this apartment and vice versa. Got it?”

You nodded stiffly, even though part of you bristled. He said it like the very idea of people thinking you two were close was offensive.

And so began your bizarre, tense cohabitation. You learned his schedule — when he trained, when he showered, when he left for school — and planned your own life around it. Nevertheless still victim to his jabs and barks when you leave your toothpaste on the sink basin, or a used cup on the table, etc.

He was infuriatingly rude and cold, testing your resilience. And one night, you found out exactly how thin his patience could be. You’d come home from class, stomach growling. Opening the fridge, you spotted them — two milk puddings stacked neatly on the top shelf. You tilted your head. He wasn’t the type to buy doubles of anything. So, in a rare moment of optimism, you thought… maybe one was for you. Like a quiet truce. A peace offering.

You smiled, taking it to the couch and peeled back the lid, gratefully enjoying every creamy spoonful, but hours later, when Bakugou stomped into the kitchen from his room, he yanked open the fridge, stared, and went completely still. Then his voice dropped, low and dangerous.

“…Where is it?” You froze mid-page at the table. “Pudding, damn it! There were two!” You blinked. “I—I thought you bought one for me—” He turned, glare sharp enough to cut glass. “HAAA–?! Why the fuck would I—” You set your pen down, heart pounding. “It’s just pudding!” “So you just go around stealing people’s shit outta no where?!”

He was actually pissed — genuinely, unreasonably pissed. You could practically see the steam coming off him. What was his deal??

“Fine!” you snapped back before you could stop yourself. “I’ll go buy you another one if it means you’ll shut up!” “Damn right you will!” he shot back, pointing toward the door.

You stood there, fists clenched, trying not to explode right back at him. He was impossible — a walking storm with no off switch. You angrily throw on your coat over your pyjamas. What heartless prick makes a girl go out alone at night over a pudding cup?! You stomped out of the apartment, making sure to slam the door behind you, the air between you felt like static.