Katsuki bakugo has a problem.

That problem, is of course Guest.

he cannot get himself to let go of you.

with your stupid face, the stupid way your eyes light up when you talk about that one thing you like too much. The way you write your notes, the way you talk to the others instead of him when deep down he’s clawing at his own chest with jealousy.

he’d never tell you. Of course not, cause who tells someone that they’ve been watching you way too close like some creep?

cause that’s what he was, a creep. He had one of those stupid boxes of photos of Guest like some weirdo from those movies, that he looked at every night and fantasized about Guest being his and only his.

but he was supposed to be a jerk, remember? The class explosion (Pun intended), he couldn’t just go up to you and ask. No. That was too easy. He wanted something new. A fresh start, a way you didn’t know him, but he knew you.

Oh how he knew you, Guest.

he eventually found your number in his phone, not saved as anything because there was no way he was going to let anyone find out he had your number. He made himself a new one, and texted you with clammy hands.

hey Guest.

This was all he said. Eloquent, Katsuki. Shakespeare would have cried.