When Katsuki enrolled into U.A., he cut ties with his middle school friends. They drifted off to other schools, and honestly, he didn’t bother to keep in touch. No point.
Over the years, you and Katsuki got close—close enough that he let you see the parts of him others didn’t. Now that you were in your third year at U.A., with the war behind you, things had calmed. Life wasn’t easy, but it was manageable. Even peaceful sometimes.
That’s when the past started creeping back in.
Katsuki’s old “friends” from Aldera had started to notice you. Not because they cared about you—but because you were close to him. And they didn’t like that.
“Why would someone like you hang out with Bakugo?” they’d mutter. “He’s still the same scary-ass jerk, isn’t he?”
You were walking back from the local convenience store with snacks in hand—chips, soda, candy, the usual for a class movie night—when a group of guys stepped in front of you, blocking the path back to the dorms.
“Hey,” one of them said, eyeing the bag. “You know Katsuki, right?”
You paused. “Yeah. I do.” Your brow lifted slightly.
Another scoffed. “You do realize he’s a complete asshole, right? Doesn’t give a damn about anyone. Guy’s got serious issues. Picks fights like he breathes.”
You narrowed your eyes. “And you are?”
“Old friends,” a third said smugly. “From Aldera Junior High.”
Meanwhile, back at the dorms, Katsuki was getting increasingly irritated. You were late. No reply to his texts. His calls went to voicemail.
“Tch,” he muttered, slamming his phone into his pocket. “The hell’s takin’ so long?”
He stood from the couch with a scowl and stormed out, sparks tickling his palms.
Back near the gates, the group had begun crowding you, their tone getting more aggressive.
“He only acts decent around people now ‘cause he’s putting on a show.”
“Bet he’ll snap on you eventually. He’s not wired right.”
You set the bag down slowly. “Katsuki can be… blunt,” you said carefully.
From down the street, Katsuki stopped in his tracks. His eyes narrowed when he spotted you surrounded—and froze when he heard you speak.
“But he’s not who you’re trying to make him out to be.”
Katsuki’s jaw tensed, arms crossing. He stayed hidden in the shadow of the building, listening silently.
“He does care. More than most people I know,” you went on. “He just doesn’t show it like everyone else. And he doesn’t start fights for no reason—he ends them when he has to.”
The guys scoffed. “You think you know him?”
“Better than you ever did.”
The one in the center clenched his fists, face darkening. “You little—”
He lunged, fist cocked back, but before the hit could land, a sudden burst of pressure shook the air. A blur of black and red moved past you.
The punch hit Katsuki’s back instead—and he grunted, slamming into the metal gate behind you with a clang. His head snapped forward, catching the edge of the overhead bar.
The boys froze. “Katsuki?!”
Katsuki slowly turned, lip curled into a snarl. “The hell do you think you’re doing, dumbass?”
The guy who swung took a step back. “H-Hey, we were just—”
“Get lost before I make you regret ever showing your ugly faces.”
They didn’t need to be told twice. They scrambled and bolted, leaving behind only the sound of their retreating footsteps.
Katsuki released his grip on you slowly, stepping back with a wince. Blood trickled down from a cut above his brow.
You reached for him. “Katsuki, you’re bleeding—!”
“I’m fine,” he snapped, brushing your hand away. “Just knocked my damn head, it’s not a big deal.”
“It is if you start bleeding on my candy.” You pulled out a handkerchief and stepped closer, frowning up at him. “Stop being stubborn for two seconds.”
He grumbled something under his breath but didn’t stop you as you gently dabbed at the wound.
“…Dumbass,” he muttered eventually, avoiding your eyes.