The night was quiet in the dorms of U.A. High School. Most of the students had long since retired to their rooms, resting up for another grueling day of hero training. Bakugo Katsuki wasn’t the type to sleep early. His mind often ran wild, thoughts racing with strategies, future challenges, and, annoyingly, that damn Deku.
He found himself pacing in the hallways, his footsteps light but swift. His mood wasn’t terrible, but something had been gnawing at him ever since they’d returned from their latest training exercise. Deku—Izuku Midoriya—had been acting strange again. Quiet, distracted, like he was lost in his own head. It irritated Bakugo more than usual. They were rivals, after all. And any sign of weakness from Deku made him feel restless, like he had to get to the bottom of it.
Before he knew it, he was standing outside Deku’s room. The light was still on, spilling out from under the door. He hesitated, his fist hovering in the air, ready to knock. Why the hell am I here again? He scowled at himself but knocked anyway.
No response.
Typical Deku—probably buried in his notebooks or some nerdy crap.
He was about to turn around when he heard something—a soft, muffled sound from inside. His brow furrowed. It was almost like a… moan?
Without thinking, Bakugo grabbed the doorknob and pushed the door open, his natural impatience getting the best of him. “Oi, Deku, what the hell are you—”
His voice caught in his throat.
There, in the dim light of the room, was Deku, sitting on his bed, shirtless, his green hair tousled and damp with sweat. His legs were spread slightly, and his hand was wrapped around himself, moving in slow, desperate motions. His breath hitched as he looked up, his wide green eyes locking with Bakugo’s.
For a moment, neither of them moved. The air between them crackled with tension, thick and suffocating.
“K-Kacchan!” Deku gasped, his voice strangled with shock and embarrassment. His face turned crimson as he immediately tried to cover himself, yanking the blanket up to his waist.
Bakugo stood frozen in the doorway, his own heart pounding in his chest. His mind was a storm of thoughts, but none of them seemed to make any sense. He hadn’t meant to see this. Hell, he hadn’t even considered what the muffled sounds might have been before barging in. And now…
“I…” Deku stammered, eyes darting everywhere but at Bakugo. “I didn’t— You shouldn’t have—”
Bakugo’s body moved before his brain caught up, slamming the door shut behind him with a loud thud. He stalked forward, his usual confidence masking the internal chaos he was feeling. His eyes never left Deku’s face, watching the flush that spread across his cheeks, the way his breathing quickened in Bakugo’s presence.
“What the hell are you doing, Deku?” Bakugo growled, though his voice lacked its usual bite. It sounded more strained, like he was trying to control something he didn’t quite understand.
Deku swallowed hard, shrinking back slightly, clutching the blanket to his chest like it was some kind of shield. “I… I’m sorry, Kacchan, I didn’t think anyone would—”
“You didn’t think I would?” Bakugo cut him off, his lips twitching into a smirk despite the situation. His heart was still racing, his palms uncharacteristically sweaty. He stepped closer, looming over Deku, his shadow falling across the bed. “You really are a damn idiot.”
Deku’s breath hitched again, and Bakugo could see how flustered he was, how embarrassed. And yet, there was something else in Deku’s eyes—something hesitant, something that sent a jolt of heat through Bakugo’s veins.
“I... I didn’t mean for you to see this,” Deku whispered, his voice barely audible now, his hands shaking slightly as he held the blanket close.
Bakugo leaned down, just enough so he was inches from Deku’s face, his smirk fading into something more serious, more intense. His red eyes bore into Deku’s, searching for an answer, for something that explained why this was affecting him so damn much.
“Why didn’t you lock the door, then, dumbass?”
Deku’s breath caught in his throat, his green eyes wide and vulnerable. He looked like he wanted to say something, to explain, but words seemed to fail him. Instead, he just stared back at Bakugo, his lips parting slightly, his chest rising and falling with each shaky breath.
Bakugo’s gaze flicked down, briefly taking in the sight of Deku’s bare chest, the way his skin flushed with heat. He could feel the electricity in the air, the unspoken tension that had always been between them, now magnified by the situation they found themselves in. His fists clenched at his sides as he fought against the impulse surging through him.
For once, he didn’t know what to do.
“Oi, Deku,” he said, his voice low, rough. “Don’t just sit there like a deer in the headlights. Say something.”
Deku blinked, his lips trembling as he tried to form words. “I-I don’t know what to say, Kacchan…”
Bakugo’s jaw tightened. He hated how flustered Deku looked, how unsure he seemed. It reminded him of the countless times he had underestimated him, the times he’d brushed him off as weak. But this wasn’t weakness. This was something else—something that had been building between them for years, simmering beneath the surface, always unspoken.
Bakugo let out a frustrated sigh and straightened up, running a hand through his messy blond hair. “You’re so damn confusing,” he muttered under his breath.
Deku watched him, still tense, but there was something softer in his gaze now. Something… curious. His grip on the blanket loosened just a little, and for a brief moment, Bakugo saw him as something other than the clumsy, determined rival he had always been. There was vulnerability there, yes—but also a trust that made Bakugo’s chest ache.
“Are you... gonna stay?” Deku asked, his voice small, unsure.
Bakugo froze, caught off guard by the question. His mind raced with a million thoughts, none of which seemed to offer him an answer. He could leave, pretend this never happened. Or he could stay, and—
He clenched his fists tighter, his nails digging into his palms. He wasn’t the type to run away from anything. And this... whatever this was, wasn’t something he could ignore.
“Shut up, Deku,” Bakugo said finally, his voice rough but quieter now. “Just... stop overthinking everything for once.”
Deku blinked up at him, confused, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he just nodded, slowly, watching as Bakugo sat down on the edge of the bed, his usual brashness tempered by something softer, something uncertain.
For once, neither of them knew what came next. But for now, in the silence of Deku’s room, they let the moment hang between them—unspoken, unresolved, but undeniably real.
