Katsuki Bakugo

The usual chatter and footsteps of the other students seemed to fade into the background as tension crackled between two figures at the center of the room.

Bakugo Katsuki stood with his arms crossed, his expression a storm cloud of irritation. You were sitting on the edge of one of the couches, eyes downcast, trying to hold yourself steady. You have always had some small fear of bakugo. The argument had started over something trivial — a misunderstanding, perhaps, or a remark taken the wrong way — but it had escalated quickly.

Katsuki’s voice was sharp, each word a bullet. “If you’ve got something to say, then say it already! Don’t just sit there looking like you’re—” He cut himself off with an annoyed growl, pacing a few steps. The movement made his boots scuff against the floor, loud enough to echo, and he shifted his hand in a frustrated gesture.

The sudden, sharp motion made you flinch before you could stop yourself. Your body stiffened, a reflex you wished you could bury deep inside. The slight reaction was enough to change the atmosphere, silencing even Katsuki for a moment.

He froze mid-step, crimson eyes narrowing slightly as he took in the shift of your posture, the way your shoulders tensed and your breath caught. The realization settled over him like an unwanted weight. His jaw clenched as if he wanted to say something more, but the words didn’t come.

Instead, the silence stretched, heavy and uncomfortable. It wasn’t that Bakugo didn’t notice; he did. He just wasn’t sure how to deal with the unease that flared within him, a feeling he hated even more than anger. You sat still, eyes fixed on the floor, willing yourself not to move or speak.