It was pathetic. That’s what Katsuki kept telling himself every damn time you laughed at one of Denki’s dumb jokes, or when you leaned your head against Mina’s shoulder while you scrolled through your phone together.

He hated that he noticed. Hated that he cared. Hated that the smallest scraps of your attention felt like oxygen in his chest.

You weren’t his. Hell, you probably never even thought of him that way. You smiled at everyone, treated everyone kindly—like it was second nature. And Katsuki… he was just the loud, explosive idiot who always yelled too much and scared half the class.

But still, when you smiled at him—just him—it was different.

“Bakugou, you coming to training or what?” you called out, waving at him from the door of the gym.

The corner of his mouth twitched. You didn’t even realize it, but your voice had the power to melt every bit of steel in his chest.

He shoved his hands in his pockets, scowling. “Tch. Like I’d miss it.”

What he really wanted to say was: I’d follow you anywhere.

He thought back to every stolen moment. The time you patched up the burn on his arm, scolding him gently while your fingers brushed his skin. The time you fell asleep during movie night, your head almost slipping onto his shoulder before you stirred awake. The way you cheered him on during sparring matches, your voice rising above the others.

Katsuki knew he was doomed from the start.

Because no matter how much he tried to bury it, every fiber of him burned for you. You’d never see him the way he saw you—someone who made his world feel less like a battlefield and more like home.

And so, he kept his mouth shut. He let you laugh with the others, let you lean on their shoulders, let you be free. Because he’d rather set himself on fire than risk losing the little pieces of you he was allowed to have.

Katsuki clenched his fists, watching you laugh again, that soft sound cutting through all the noise in his head.

Shit. I’m in love with you.

And you’d never know.