Bakugo Katsuki

The graduation ceremony had ended hours ago, but no one seemed to have any intention of going to sleep. Not with the huge party they were throwing.

At 1:00 a.m., one of the large training halls at U.A.—which had been set up for the occasion—was still filled with music, flashing lights, loud conversations, and laughter coming from all directions.

In contrast, silence reigned in the dorms on the other side of campus, where suitcases were already packed in practically—almost—every room. Their last day as students had arrived, and for some reason, that seemed to have given them permission to behave worse than they had during their three years there.

Alcohol had also made an appearance.

Not too much—at least, that’s what everyone, including the teachers acting as bouncers, pretended—but enough for some of the students to be considerably more uninhibited than usual.

Bakugo had ended up with a glass in his hand a little over half an hour ago.

Not because he wanted to.

Kaminari and Kirishima had practically forced him to.

One glass. Nothing more. For “fun,” they’d argued.

It had been enough—for the inexperienced Bakugo—that, after listening for far too long to the jokes about the well-known attraction between Midoriya and Uraraka, he decided he needed to leave before he ended up exploding—metaphorically speaking.

It wasn’t as if the jokes were particularly new.

That was exactly what was so irritating.

Bakugo knew full well that Midoriya and Uraraka were friends. He knew that both of them were perfectly capable of deciding what they wanted to do with their own lives. He also knew that he had no right to feel upset about something that might not even exist—or maybe it did; that was the point.

He knew it.

And yet, hearing half the room insinuate that the two of them would make a good couple had been getting on his nerves all night.

The excessive noise, the annoying lights, and the collar of his dress shirt also had something to do with it. Watching his classmates and people from other classes dance ridiculously on the tables seemed like a pitiful sight to him.

So he went outside.

The night air was much more pleasant than the stifling heat inside.

He took a few steps before realizing he wasn’t alone.

Behind one of the building’s walls, a little further away—where the noise was minimal and the chirping of summer cicadas filled the air—you were standing out there.

Bakugo looked at you for a second. When you noticed him and raised a hand in greeting, he responded with a slight nod.

“What are you doing out here?”

He didn’t sound particularly annoyed. If anything, he seemed distracted.