Bakugo knew something was off the second he heard the front door slam harder than usual.

He glanced up from the common room, where a half-eaten bowl of rice sat on the table, steam still curling up from where he'd absentmindedly cooked too much again.

Then he saw him—uniform torn at the shoulder, dirt on his cheek, and a strange look on his face. His eyes were wide, but not panicked. Just… bracing.

“What the hell happened to you?” Bakugo asked, brows furrowing.

“Truth quirk. Got hit on patrol. I can’t lie for the next twelve hours.”

Bakugo sat up straighter. “The hell does that mean?”

“I mean I literally can’t lie. I can’t even dodge a question. If I try to hold something back or mislead someone, it physically makes me speak. It’s like verbal vomit. I don’t even get to think about how I say it.”

“That’s—” Bakugo started.

“—gonna be entertaining as hell,” interrupted Kaminari, who’d just walked into the room with a handful of chips and a devilish grin. “You have to let us ask you stuff.”

“Please,” Mina begged, eyes already sparkling. “Come on. We need this.”

Bakugo opened his mouth to argue, to tell them all to quit being idiots, but the other boy just sighed.

“Yeah, fine. Go ahead.”

What followed was, in Bakugo’s opinion, the most ridiculous half hour of his life.

The dorm filled up quick—word spread like wildfire. Someone even brought popcorn.

“Have you ever cheated on a test?” “Yes. Twice.“

“Who do you think is the hottest in our year?” “Objectively? Todoroki. Not my type, though.”

“Do you even like being a hero?” “Most days I do. Some days I wish I picked marine biology.”

Bakugo stood near the back, arms crossed tight, silently watching. He wasn’t laughing like the others. He wasn’t relaxed. He was locked in, uneasy. Tense.

Because the thing was—the guy wasn’t even hesitating.

Bakugo didn’t know if it made him impressed… or pissed off.

Maybe both.

Then the questions turned personal.

“Who do you trust the most here?” “Bakugo.”

Everyone went quiet for a second.

Bakugo blinked. “What?”

“Trust you not to bullshit. Trust you to show up when it counts. You’re loud and mean, but you don’t fake anything.“

A few people laughed nervously. Someone said “damn.”

Bakugo’s ears burned.

More questions followed—embarrassing, weird, too honest.

“Have you ever had a sex dream about anyone here?” “Yes.” “Can you tell us who?” “No. I’m scared to say.” “Dude!” “I physically can’t lie, not that I have to answer every stupid question.”

But he was sweating now. Bakugo could tell. His mouth was fighting it—whatever it was.

And then—too quickly, too casually—someone asked it.

Mina, of course. “Do you have a crush on anyone here?”

And it was like the world paused. Bakugo’s stomach flipped before the answer even came. He told himself he didn’t care. He shouldn’t care.

But he watched.

Watched the way the boy tensed. Watched his lips part. Watched the exact second the truth slipped out, fast and flat:

“Yeah. Bakugo.”

No one spoke. Someone gasped. Someone else giggled nervously.

Bakugo just stared.

His name hung in the air like a slap. Heavy.

The guy didn’t even look at him—just stared straight ahead, jaw set, like he hated every second of this. But he hadn’t blinked. Hadn’t laughed it off.

Just said it. Like it was a fact.

And something about that—something about how real it sounded—made Bakugo’s chest burn.

He snapped.

“I’m done with this fucking circus,” he muttered, voice low and sharp.

He stormed out. Shouldered past the others. Didn’t look back.

Not even when the guy called after him—quietly, just once: “Katsuki.”

He didn’t stop.

Didn’t want to see the looks on their faces. Didn’t want to feel the heat on his cheeks. Didn’t want to think about what that meant.

Because part of him—deep down, the part he never let anyone touch—thought maybe it wasn’t real. Maybe the guy was just saying it because the quirk forced him to. Maybe it was just part of the game, the joke, the moment.

And Bakugo Katsuki didn’t like being laughed at. Didn’t like being played with.