It starts off as a joke.
Kaminari and Ashido deliberately make loud exclamations with arms spread wide in exaggeration after they catch you staring at Bakugou’s seat during the last minutes of lunch break. This isn’t the first time, Mina wags her finger. The duo then count off their fingers of every other times you casted a longing stare at the ashy blond male before class, during class, after class—
“Yeah, I like Bakugou-kun.” That shuts them up. “I mean, that’s what you wanted me to say right?”
Your face is neutral, your tone light. They realize you aren’t being sarcastic and the urge to get a rise out of you with harmless teasing immediately dies. By then most of 1-A has returned from the cafeteria, and are raptured with this sudden, thrilling development. Mina swallows thickly. They don’t mean to out you like this. Kaminari opens his mouth to quickly remedy things but gasps instead at the approaching figure behind you.
“What the fuck. You serious?”
You flinch a little, not expecting Bakugou to hear, but smile anyway. Tucking your hair behind your ear, your torso turns to greet him. He doesn’t smile back.
“Ah, don’t worry about it. I mean I do like you, but these feelings are mine, so I’ll take responsibility. I don’t expect you to reciprocate them.” You face forward, not because you refuse to hear his reply or lack thereof. Present Mic makes his presence known by yelling at everyone to get into their seats.
Bakugou sits a few rows in front of you, and not once does he look back.
Bakugou treats you differently after that.
If he barely spoke to you before, now he speaks even less. No one ever brings up your indirect confession weeks ago, and you heard it’s because Mina and Kaminari personally messaged everyone to shut up (since they couldn’t do it in the class group chat, with you and Bakugou present) as a feeble apology. They came crying at your feet at the end of that day, to which you waved a flippant hand, saying it wasn’t really a secret anyway.
Although he speaks less, your contact with him increases. Sometimes you find yourself tripping when you pass his desk. You can’t count how many times he bumps shoulders with you roughly and so far you lost three pens, and you know he has them because you see him writing notes with labelled pens of your favourite colour.
These are pretty minor things, things that you could probably brush off. Some of the girls even comment how cute it is for him to catch your attention like this.
“Bakugou’s definitely the kind of guy who believes actions speak louder than words, you know?”
The people at your lunch table stare at you with a hint of worry.
“Are you alright?” Midoriya begins, watching you stare at your udon. It has been ten minutes since everyone started eating.
“I’m… not sure, but thanks for asking. Also, I’ve been meaning to ask,” you look up at Kirishima sitting across you, “why are you eating here today?”
As though he is waiting for that cue, he slips a hand under the table to take out a handful of pens, pencils and erasers, rolling them to your side of the table.
“Here are your stolen stationeries. Took them when he was still in the changing room after All Might’s lesson yesterday.”
“Wah! Your erasers are so cute!! I can’t imagine Bakugou-kun using these…” Uraraka comments.
“We really should not condone these daylight robberies…” Iida pushes his glasses up with exasperation.
“Uh, h-how are you feeling?” Midoriya persists, watching you push your bowl of udon to Kirishima as thanks. He accepts with a hesitant smile.
“…I’m curious of Bakugou-kun, I want to know what’s on his mind when he does things like this,” you gesture at your slightly battered pens and sigh, “that’s not too much to ask, right?”
“Yeah!!” Uraraka cheers next to you, “I mean, I think he sort of likes you back! If he didn’t, he would have probably ignored you?”
Midoriya nods. “Maybe Kacchan just doesn’t know how to express himself? I’ve never seen him being interested in anyone before…”
“And you know,” Kirishima slurps, hastily swallowing noodles and wiping his mouth with a sleeve to Iida’s horror, “sometimes he would stare at your seat before class starts in the morning.”
“I heard,” you smile warily. You don’t know why your friends are hell-bent on convincing that Bakugou likes you back. You just want to know what he’s thinking of, since his attitude towards you changed since that day. His feelings for you shouldn’t be a factor since they couldn’t have manifested overnight for him to treat you differently so quickly, right?
“I too, am rather curious,” Iida raises his arm, to which Kirishima pulls it back down, “as to why you like Bakugou-kun?”
All of them stare at you. Your smile is as simple and clear as your feelings for him.
“You can’t help but like who you like.”
You are annoying, Bakugou thinks.
Sure, he could have brushed your confession off and treat you like the extra that you are, but why does it piss him off that you brushed it off yourself first? Maybe he’s being petty, since that privilege should belong to him. Only he could decide whether you’re worthy or not. But when you gave up the fight right there and then, it renders him unable to even do anything in return.
What the fuck? Isn’t this supposed to be a two-way thing?
It’s not like he really paid any special attention to you before The Confession, but he feels somewhat challenged, which is why he starts to bother you. Perhaps he wants to irritate you as a payback for just… declaring your feelings like that.
(It’s actually because you declared your feelings and refused to do anything about it, like anything, not even trying to get him to like you back, wait, not that he wanted that, what the fuck, he doesn’t have time for this kind of shit, and how can you even continue to smile politely at him knowing he’s been kidnapping your pens for weeks, why aren’t you mad, he hates this lack of response, do you really not care, did you actually mean it when you said you liked him? Are you toying with him? Why can’t he stop thinking about this, about you—)
Fuck. You are so annoying.
It ends with Bakugou’s palm slamming on your desk two months later.
Yes, you are there, no, you don’t jump out of your seat unlike your neighbours, yes, you’re looking up at the angry boy’s face, no, you’re not blushing.
“Can I help you, Bakugou-kun?” you ask calmly.
“Yeah,” he barks, “go out with me.”
The world shuts up for 5 whole seconds. You remain quiet as the class explodes in an uproar around you. Sero’s tapes fly everywhere, bags are floating near Uraraka who’s shaking Midoriya’s dislocated shoulders, Kaminari rips his shirt open while yelling passionately that he’s been right all along, Iida tackles him to the ground to prevent further indecency, Yaoyorozu finds Todoroki sleeping under the teacher’s desk, and someone else also discards their shirt, no wait, that’s Hagakure lying on the desk fawning over high school romance. Everyone else tries to keep up with the program.
“What a smart move!” the invisible girl swoons, “by playing hard to get, Bakugou treats it as a challenge but in the end he got it bad~!”
Ashido shushes the class, signalling that you haven’t responded. Similar to when Aizawa-sensei uses his quirk, everyone poofs back into their seats and are hilariously terrible at pretending they’re not listening in to what you’re going to say.
“Ah,” you smile. The studio audience leans in and holds their breaths. “No thanks.”
His eyebrow twitches. Someone’s going to die tonight, someone thinks. I hope it’s not me, Midoriya thinks back. What the fuck, get out of my head, they think back think back.
“What?” His voice is low. You don’t falter, instead you close your notebook and calmly pack your things as preparation to go home. Single.
“Aren’t you…” His knuckles are white as they grip the edge of your desk.
“…the one…” Yaoyorozu wears a freshly produced safety face shield at the sight of smoke under his palms.
“…who has fucking feelings for me??” Kirishima can pinpoint the exact second where everything goes straight to hell in a handbasket when a loud explosion shakes the whole classroom. When he opens his eyes, you’re standing with eyes directly into Bakugou’s. You’re not smiling.
“Look at this,” you instruct, tugging your sleeve up to show a small scar on your wrist.
“What about it?” he hisses.
“It’s 2 weeks old, you bumped into me when I was peeling an apple in Home Economics and I nicked myself.”
“That’s you being careless, the fuck.”
“This,” you part your hair to show him a bruise on your forehead, “is when you pushed me three days ago into a wall.”
“You were in the way.”
“This,” you point to the band aid on your knee, “is when I descended the stairs last week and fell two steps down because you tripped me.”
“I have about ten or more littering on my skin. Not once did you apologize.”
“And no one said a thing about it, because they think you did all that to get my attention, and bad attention is still attention, right?”
“The fact that I like you doesn’t make all this okay. Please don’t take my feelings for granted.”
“Then why didn’t you fucking say anything?” Bakugou grabs you by the collar, his eyes burning. “You think I asked you out because I like you?! I just want a reaction!”
“I know,” you say quietly. “That must have been your first confession, and I acted like it was nothing. You must have been confused. I’m sorry about that.”
“That doesn’t mean shit now.”
“I didn’t say anything because I wanted to observe you more. Figure out why you treated me different after that day. But in the end, it shouldn’t matter. I really should have said something.”
That seems to appease Bakugou a little, hearing you admit. With his glare still unrelenting, he draws back with his hands in his pockets.
“…What if I was being serious? Asking you out?”
Someone dares to hoot in the background. They are quickly dogpiled by the others.
“Well,” you smile bashfully, tucking in strands of hair behind your ear, “when the time comes and I actually go out with someone, I’d rather it be someone mellow who doesn’t inflict bodily harm on me every week, you know…?” Oh. That was not bashful. You just feel really bad pointing it out.
Everyone feels second hand awkwardness from you saying Bakugou isn’t your type right in his face.
Bakugou, again, is rendered unable to do anything at the end of the day. The camera pans on the back of his head, so no one sees his expression, and you are pointedly looking away.
Kaminari slowly buttons his shirt up.
It’s all cool, though.
Time really is the answer, and with time your feelings fade (“Haha, guess it’s just a phase mom!” you pat his shoulder. “WHO THE FUCK IS YOUR MOM,” he yells, breaking the pen he was holding in his fist. It was yours.) and you start hanging out more with Bakugou and Friends. Bakugou is now more cautious of your well-being when you’re with him. Your classmates apologized the day after The Awkward Rejection for having said nothing about your Baku boo-boos and everyone promised to look out for each other. Aizawa-sensei was weirded out why his kids were huddled in one giant lump with a screaming Bakugou at the center when he entered class and declined to join in the group hug.
Your classmates are hugging.
“Sorry. For all those cuts and bruises you got from me.”
“Why the fuck would I—what’s with that look??”
“Katsuki-kun we are literally graduating today, it’s been three years and only now you grovel at my feet asking for forgiveness??”
“Okay first of all fuck off—“
“Where did this even come from?? Everyone’s crying and hugging their diplomas and you’re just thinking back to the time you bullied me??”
“Why the hell are you being so salty—are you crying??”
“Because I was having the same war flashbacks holy shit!!! Come on let’s go join their hug!!!”
“WHAT—NO LET GO OF ME HEY WHAT THE FU—mmph!!”