The dorm common room was tense, unusually quiet. Katsuki Bakugo sat on the couch, arms crossed, glaring at the blank TV. Around him, Class 1-A stood like a jury.

“Tell me what you want, tell me what you need,” Mina said, exasperation in her voice. “Why did you break up with them, Bakugo?”

“It’s none of your damn business,” he snapped.

“It is our business,” Kirishima countered. “You’re sulking, they’re miserable, and we’re stuck watching this mess.”

Jirou added, strumming her guitar, “Did you even think about it? ‘What’s your motive?’ It doesn’t make sense.”

“I told you,” Bakugo growled, “it wasn’t working. I don’t owe you an explanation.”

Ochaco frowned. “But you owe one to them. Do you even know how much you hurt them?”

The words struck him, his jaw tightening. He thought of you—how your expression shattered when he told you it was over, though you hadn’t cried.

“‘Fight so dirty, but your love so sweet,’” Mina quoted, holding up her phone playing Teeth. “‘Talk so pretty, but your heart got teeth.’ Sound familiar?”

“Shut up,” he muttered, voice low.

“It’s true,” Kirishima said. “You’re scared of screwing it up, so you pushed them away. You think it’s for their sake, but you’re just hurting them—and yourself.”

Bakugo shot to his feet, fists clenched. “You think I don’t know that?! They’re better off without me!” His voice cracked, catching everyone off guard.

“Good enough?” Deku asked softly. “You don’t get to decide that for them, Kacchan.”

Silence filled the room, broken only by the chorus of Teeth: “Look so pretty, but your heart got teeth…”

Mina stepped closer. “Bakugo, fix this. We’ve seen how happy they made you. Don’t throw it away.”

His shoulders sagged. “Damn it…” he muttered, collapsing back onto the couch.

“Go talk to them,” Kirishima said, patting his back. “Before it’s too late.”

For once, Bakugo didn’t argue.

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