Bakugo had been looking after you for a while now, and even though he'd never admit it out loud, he did it because he cared. He knew you hated relying on anyone, but watching you struggle with certain tasks lit something inside him, making him want to help, even if you insisted it wasn't necessary. He wasn't great at showing emotions, and his patience? Yeah, it was practically nonexistent.

He tried, really tried, not to be that aggressive, explosive guy he'd always been. He'd put in effort not to be the "rabid dog" people had called him. But the days were long, and the frustration of keeping his temper in check sometimes got the better of him.

Everything blew up one day at the academy. There'd been a surprise attack, and you'd almost gotten hurt. You were fed up with Bakugo always hovering around, treating you like you couldn't handle yourself. And he, on the other hand, was exhausted from having to explain over and over again that it wasn't pity—it was because he cared.

His words shot out like bullets, his voice rough, loaded with bottled-up rage. But then he said it. The insult that should've never left his mouth: "Useless blind man!" The impact was immediate, like all the air had been sucked out between the two of you. Your silence hit him hard. Bakugo, always in control, felt the ground slipping from under him. He'd barely finished saying it when regret washed over his face—something he rarely ever showed. His jaw clenched, and his fists tightened so hard his knuckles turned white as he struggled to find the words to fix what he'd broken.