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You knew something was wrong the second Kaminari walked away from your desk grinning like an idiot, and Bakugo’s pencil snapped in half.
He didn’t say anything then. Just glared holes through your skull the rest of class like he was trying to disintegrate you through sheer murder energy.
But he didn’t explode.
Not until now, out on the deserted training field where he dragged you the second the school day ended.
He’s pacing. Like a bomb. Like him.
You can practically feel the heat radiating off him in waves.
“Katsuki,” you say, arms crossed tightly. “You’re being ridiculous.”
He whirls on you so fast the air stirs.
“I’m bein’ ridiculous?!” His voice cracks like an explosion. “You just stood there gigglin’ like an extra when Dunce Face, DUNCE FACE, had the balls to ask you out!”
You choke. “I didn’t giggle!”
“Did too!”
“I WAS BEING POLITE!”
“Well stop! You don’t gotta be polite to him of all people!”
He’s storming toward you now, boots digging into the concrete so hard you swear it cracks.
Your heartbeat spikes, but you hold your ground.
“Why do you even care?” you fire back. “It’s not like it concerns you!”
“The hell it doesn’t!”
“Yes it does! How?! How, Katsuki?!” Your voice rises with every word until it stings your own ears. “Tell me why you care so much about who asks me out! You’re– you’re not my boyfriend!”
It’s too loud, too sharp, too honest.
But for once, Bakugo goes silent.
The kind of silence that feels like everything in him stopped moving at once.
He stares at you, jaw flexing, eyes wide for a split second before they narrow into something dangerous. Not angry, dangerous. Conflicted.
Like he’s fighting himself.
Then it cracks.
Not a scream. Not a roar. Just a raw, forceful explosion of a truth he can’t shove down anymore:
“That's the damn problem.”
Your breath catches painfully.
Bakugo strides forward, every step heavy and tight, like he’s walking into a battlefield without his armor.
“You,” he gestures wildly, like the words are knives he’s chucking at the ground, “walk around with me, act with me, look at me like, like that, like you’re already,” He growls, frustrated. “And I—”
His hand grips his hair.
He’s unraveling and furious that he’s unraveling.
“Katsuki…” You take a hesitant step.
“Don’t,” he snaps, not at you, at himself. “Just listen dumbass.”
He forces his eyes up to yours.
For once, the fire in them isn’t anger. It’s fear. Hope. Want. Things Bakugo Katsuki never lets anyone see.
“I care,” he says, voice low and rough, “because it’s you. Because it’s always been you. And watching that idiot try to get close to you, watching anyone try, makes me wanna blast somethin’ to hell.”
Your throat tightens.
He looks away again, scoffing bitterly. “I didn’t wanna say anything ’cause,what if I screwed everything up? What if you didn’t want,” He stops himself with a harsh exhale. “Whatever. You get it.”
You take a slow breath. “…You like me.”
He shoots you a look like you just asked if explosions are loud.
“No. I risk brain damage every damn day to fight villains for fun because I don’t like you. Yes, dumbass. I like you.”
Your cheeks heat, and a tiny stunned laugh escapes before you can stop it. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Tch.” His ears go cherry red. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.”
You step close, close enough to see the nervous twitch at the corner of his mouth.
Close enough he stops breathing for a second.
“I didn’t say yes to Kaminari,” you say quietly.
Bakugo blinks. “Wait, seriously?”
“I wasn’t sure how I felt because… well… you.”
He stiffens, like you just short-circuited his brain.
“Because of me,” he repeats, not trusting it.
You nod. “You confuse me. Constantly. And I didn’t want to hurt Kaminari if my heart was already somewhere else.”
His voice drops to nearly a whisper. “Where… is it?”
Instead of answering, you reach out and grab his wrist.
He jerks slightly, not away, just startled, because Katsuki Bakugo doesn’t get touched gently. Not often.
Your fingers slide down to lace with his.
His breath stutters.
You smile softly. “Take a wild guess.”
He looks down at your hands, then back at your face, then down again, like he’s checking if this is real or if he’s hallucinating from sheer emotional overload.
“…Hah.” His voice cracks into something smug and shaky at the same time. “Knew it.”
“You definitely did not know.”
“I—” He glares. “Shut up.”
You laugh, warm, breathy, relieved, and Bakugo looks away quickly, ears blazing, but he squeezes your hand tighter. He never realized how comforting your laugh was to him. He felt kike he could breathe again.
“Still,” he mutters, eyes hardening again, “if Kaminari tries that crap again, I’m blasting him through a wall.”
“Katsuki!”
“What?! He started it!”
You roll your eyes, but you don’t let go of his hand.
technically no spoilers but might be hard to follow if you're not caught up.
synopsis - After the war, Bakugou finally confronts the feelings he’s been holding back, even as the world around him quietly rebuilds.
not proofread!
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After the war, Katsuki was softer with his parents.
Not by much, but just enough for his mom to notice when he didn't bite back. And enough for his old man to smile quietly at the dinner table like he was scared to breathe wrong and disturb the peace that was settling over the Bakugou family.
Mitsuki first notices it at his first dinner back home from the hospital.
Katsuki, still on the mend from his last battle, is picking at the spicy mapo tofu that his mother prepared for dinner in hopes that his favorite meal would lift the quietness that had settled over her little firecracker.
A firm hand smacks onto the dinner table with a resounding whack!
"Dammit, Katsuki! Stop picking at your food and eat!!"
A grunt is all that leaves the once emotionally explosive boy.
Mitsuki is notably stunned. Her heart cracks a little to see that her baby boy has lost just a little bit of the spark that once blazed so brightly inside of him. He still wants to be the number one hero, and she's certain that will never change, but something is eating at him.
Before he knows what's happening, her hand is gripping Katsuki's wrist. Not tight enough to hurt, but tight enough for him to turn and look at her.
He's surprised to see the tears gathering at the corner of her eyes.
"You used to bark if I even looked at you funny."
Her voice is barely more than a whisper, but it seems to echo in the now silent dining room.
"Yeah, well... guess I was kind of a pain in the ass, hah?"
The snort that leaves Mitsuki seems to leap from her without her permission.
"Kind of?"
Katsuki doesn't respond. He doesn't rise to the bait like the old him would have. Doesn't call her an old hag, or blow up the centerpiece.
But he almost smiles.
And for now, for Mitsuki Bakugou, that's enough.
---
Later, when he's alone, his first night back in his own bed, Katsuki finds that he can't rest.
He's fallen asleep just fine, the exhaustion of his body still working overtime to heal him had him conked out pretty quickly.
But once his eyes close, it's like the nightmare becomes real.
Only tonight, he's not back in the battle.
Tonight he's in the quiet after.
Katsuki saw you again for the first time on a destroyed street corner, sunlight finally bleeding through as the dust settled. You were talking to someone, a relief worker, who was giving you directions on how to best help the injured and fallen heroes. There were dirt, cuts, and bruises all over your body, but your hands were steady and your voice was firm as you received your instructions.
You smiled and the sight hit him harder than he expected.
He stayed where he was, boots half-buried in the rubble, watching you. For a moment, it felt like the whole planet was catching its breath with him.
The truth was, Katsuki had always felt deeply for you. Even when at your time at UA, your quirk seemed better suited for rescue rather than battle, you still harbored the same fire for saving people as he did. You were half of what made him realize that being a hero was about more than just winning.
He'd always told himself that he'd wait until later. That he'd say something when things calmed down. When there was less ache in his bones. He'd always told himself that there'd be time.
But now, in light of everything he'd gone through just moments ago, Katsuki finally realized that time was the one thing he couldn't count on.
So he took a step forward. And then another.
The sound of his boots against the cracked pavement felt too loud, too heavy in the hush of afternoon. You turned before he could call your name, that same bright smile tugging at your lips when you saw him.
“Bakugou,” you said softly, like you couldn’t quite believe he was real.
He wanted to answer. Wanted to say 'you’re alive, you’re here, I thought about you every damn day.'
But all that came out was a quiet, shaky exhale.
You took a half-step closer, concern flickering in your expression. “You okay?”
He nodded, even though the world had started to tilt at the edges.
He opened his mouth and tried to force the words out before his courage vanished.
“I—”
It came out rough, barely a sound at all. The air felt thick, like breathing through smoke again.
Your hand brushed his arm, grounding him. He wanted to tell you everything. How the thought of you had kept him moving, how the silence after the explosions had felt unbearable until he imagined your voice in it.
He blinked once. Twice. The sunlight behind you blurred.
“Bakugou?”
Katsuki swayed before he realized he was falling. You caught his shoulders, shouting his name now, the fear in your voice cutting through everything else.
He thought he saw the flash of your eyes one last time before it all went black and the world dropped from under him.
Now wide awake, he sat straight up in bed, chest heaving.
Katsuki had asked about you when he first woke up in that sterile hospital room. You'd been the second person he asked about, after Izuku.
Mitsuki, unaccustomed to hearing your name on her son's lips, had to ask around with some of his classmates before she could finally relay an answer to him.
You'd gone to check on your parents at one of the battle shelters.
Once again, Katsuki found himself cursing at another chance to confess that had slipped through his fingers.
---
The following morning when Katsuki awoke and made his way downstairs, the house was too quiet, the kind of quiet that made him think too much. He sat at the kitchen table, elbows braced, staring through the window while his mother moved around behind him, pretending not to watch.
The light hit the side of his face in that late morning way, sun warm but dull, settling on the faint line of the scar along his jaw. His hair had grown out just enough to fall into his eyes. He looked older. Not just from the war, but also from what it had taken out of him.
Mitsuki leaned against the counter, arms folded. “You look like you’re gonna burn a hole through that window.”
He grunted, not looking up.
She watched him for a long moment, something soft flickering beneath her usual sharpness. Her son, the one who used to fill this house with noise, hadn’t raised his voice once since he got home. And she wasn’t sure she liked the trade-off.
That night, when he finally went to bed, she sat in the living room with her phone pressed between her palms, thinking. Then she scrolled through her contacts until she found the one she needed.
The line clicked. “Inko? Hey, it’s Mitsuki.”
They hadn’t spoken properly since the war ended, just small check-ins. The kind you make when you’re both too scared to ask about the real things.
“I was wondering if you could get Izuku to reach out to that girl. You know, the one who worked with them during recovery. Yeah… her. The one Katsuki keeps pretending not to ask about.”
There was a short pause, a hum of understanding through the receiver.
Mitsuki sighed, leaning back on the couch. “He won’t say it, but he needs to see her. He’s been driving himself crazy sittin’ around here like a ghost.”
Inko promised she’d take care of it. When the call ended, Mitsuki stared at her phone for a moment longer, then set it down and muttered, “You’re welcome, brat,” before heading to bed.
---
You showed up the next morning, the front door opening with a hesitant creak. The house smelled faintly like coffee and antiseptic. And something warm beneath it, like a home trying to remember how to breathe again.
Mitsuki met you in the hallway, arms crossed, but her eyes softened. “He’s in his room. Don’t let him act tough, he’s been up since dawn.”
You nodded, pulse quickening as you moved through the house. The floorboards creaked underfoot, and when you pushed his door open, he was sitting at the edge of the bed, head bowed, elbows resting on his knees.
He looked up fast, like he’d been waiting for something, though he’d never admit it.
For a second, neither of you spoke. The air between you felt heavy with everything that hadn’t been said.
“You’re here,” he breathed, voice rough around the edges.
You smiled. “So are you.”
He huffed a weak laugh, shaking his head. “Barely.”
The silence that followed wasn’t awkward, just fragile. You sat beside him, your shoulder brushing his. His breath hitched at the contact.
“I wanted to say this before I ended up in another damn hospital bed,” he muttered, voice low, eyes fixed on his hands. “So… listen up, yeah?”
You turned to him, waiting.
He lifted his head, eyes steady but uncertain in a way you’d never seen before. “I like you. I’ve liked you for a long time. And I ain’t waitin’ anymore. Not after all that.”
The confession landed quiet but certain. The kind of truth that didn’t need repeating.
You smiled then, soft and aching. “Good. Because I wasn’t gonna let you.”
He let out a slightly painful breath, part laugh, part relief, and for the first time since the war ended, it felt like the ache inside him finally began to ease.
Katsuki used to think peace would be loud. Victory cheers, explosions in the sky. Turns out, it was just this: your smile, the wind, and a silence that didn’t feel empty anymore
And after everything, he learned that not all quiet meant defeat.
