“Oi, Velmira. Made you this,” Katsuki muttered, voice low and rough, as he dropped a bento box onto your desk like it had personally offended him.

You blinked in surprise, and then your face lit up with a bright, delighted smile that made something in his chest detonate like a damn grenade.

A flush immediately crept up his neck, staining his cheeks in a color that betrayed him completely.

“I didn’t make it for you or anything, so don’t go getting all smug,” he snapped, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. He did. “I just had extra ingredients lying around and figured it’d be a waste not to use ’em.” He absolutely didn’t. He’d gone out of his way, scouring three different stores to get the right stuff. He’d practiced the damn omelette rolls twice to make sure they’d be fluffy. Twice.

He looked away fast—too fast—and scowled hard at the wall like it had personally dared him to care this much.

But the truth was? He was obsessed.

Not the cute, casual kind of crush where someone’s name makes you smile. No, Katsuki Bakugo was wrecked over you. You lived in his head rent-free. Every laugh of yours haunted him in the best way. Every time you brushed his shoulder or said his name like it meant something—it short-circuited his brain.

He thought about you way too much. Wondered if you’d eaten. Wondered if you liked sweet things or spicy. Wondered if anyone else had noticed the way your eyes sparkled when you were happy. The idea of someone else noticing what he saw made his blood boil.

So yeah. Maybe he’d made you a damn bento box. Maybe he’d made it like a lunatic at 2 a.m. after watching five tutorials. Maybe he’d taste-tested everything and cursed himself for how badly he wanted you to like it.

But no way in hell was he going to say that.

Instead, he huffed, cheeks still glowing, and turned sharply on his heel.

The boy was utterly whipped. Irrevocably, obsessively in love with you. And he didn’t even care if it was driving him insane—so long as you smiled like that again.