Temper×Temper

{Jealousy}

Bakugo's footsteps were firm and decisive as he made his way to Nozomi's house. He had a reason for this visit, something important to discuss, but as he neared the window, the scene inside stopped him cold.

Nozomi and some guy were dancing in the kitchen, their laughter mingling with the music that Bakugo couldn't hear. They seemed so at ease, so... happy. It was a stark contrast to the constant intensity Bakugo carried with him like armor.

*What's this feeling?* Bakugo's thoughts raced, a storm brewing inside him. *Why do they look so carefree? And who is that guy with her?*

A heat crept up his neck, an emotion he couldn't quite place. It wasn't anger, not exactly. It was something else, something that made him want to look away, yet he couldn't.

*I don't get it. Why does this bother me so much?* He tried to focus on the reason he came, but it was like grasping at smoke, elusive and intangible.

*Is this... jealousy? No, that can't be it.* Bakugo's pride bristled at the thought. *I don't get jealous. Especially not over Nozomi...*

But the more he watched, the more that unfamiliar feeling twisted in his gut. He saw the way Haruto made her laugh, the way she moved so freely, and something in Bakugo ached-a longing for something he didn't even know he wanted.

*Damn it, why can't I remember what I came here for?* His mission, whatever it was, had lost all significance in the face of this revelation.

With a frustrated huff, Bakugo turned away from the window, the confusion and that unnamed emotion burning a hole in his chest. He left without a backward glance, the image of Nozomi and Haruto's dance etched into his mind, along with the unsettling realization that maybe, just maybe, he liked Nozomi more than he was willing to admit.

---
Bakugo paced the length of his room, each step a testament to the turmoil that churned within him. The walls, adorned with posters of his hero aspirations, seemed to close in on him, echoing the pressure of the thoughts that ricocheted through his mind.

*Nozomi and that guy... dancing, laughing... Why can't I get that image out of my head?* He stopped, clenching his fists, the frustration tangible in the air.

He resumed his pacing, the floorboards creaking under the weight of his indecision. *I could just forget about it. But since when do I run from anything?*

The internal debate raged on, a battle as fierce as any he'd fought in training. *What would the old hag say? Probably just call me an idiot and tell me to deal with it.*

He stopped again, this time in front of the mirror. The reflection that stared back at him was one of strength and determination, but in his eyes, there was a flicker of something else-doubt.

With a grunt of resignation, Bakugo made his way to the kitchen. His mother was there, as he knew she would be, her back to him as she prepared dinner.

Bakugo stormed into the kitchen, where the smell of dinner cooking couldn't mask the tension that followed him like a shadow. His mother stood at the stove, her back to him, but she knew her son's moods as well as she knew her recipes.

"What do you want, Katsuki?" she asked without turning around, her tone sharp.

Bakugo's scowl deepened. "I need to talk, old hag," he said, the nickname holding years of grudging affection.

She spun around, her eyes flashing. "Watch it, brat. What's got your fuse so short this time?"

He hesitated, the aggression waning slightly. "It's about Akatsuma," he admitted, almost begrudgingly. "I saw her with some guy, and I felt... weird."

His mother crossed her arms, her stance mirroring his. "Weird how? Like you wanted to blast his head off?"

"Yeah, something like that," Bakugo muttered, looking away.

She snorted. "Sounds like you're jealous. Didn't think you had it in you."

Bakugo bristled. "I'm not jealous!"

"Keep telling yourself that," she retorted. "But even you can't deny what's right in front of your face. You like the girl, don't you?"

Bakugo's silence was answer enough.

His mother softened slightly. "Look, Katsuki, you're my son, and you've got a temper like a wildfire, but you've also got a heart, even if you don't like admitting it."

He didn't respond, but he was listening.

"If you have feelings for this girl, you've got to figure out what you're going to do about it," she continued. "And if you're feeling something as stupid as jealousy, maybe it's time you faced it head-on, like you do with everything else."

Bakugo's gaze met hers, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.

"Thanks, old hag," he said gruffly, a rare note of gratitude in his voice.

She waved him off, turning back to the stove. "Go on, get out of my kitchen. And Katsuki? Be honest with the girl. It's the only way you'll get any peace."

As Bakugo left the kitchen, the weight of his mother's words settled on him. Maybe it was time to stop running from whatever this was and face it, just like he faced every other challenge: head-on.

Bakugo sat on the edge of his bed, his room dimly lit by the single lamp on his desk. The usual fire that fueled his every action was now just a flicker, overshadowed by the uncertainty that clouded his thoughts.

*Nozomi...* Her name echoed in his mind, a constant reminder of the scene he had witnessed and the turmoil it had stirred within him.

He could confront her, tell her what he saw, what he felt... But the thought alone was enough to tighten his chest, a sensation he despised for its unfamiliarity.

*Why can't I just deal with this?* He thought, anger at himself rising. *Since when do I hesitate? Since when do I run?*

But as he contemplated facing Nozomi, a different kind of battle raged within him-one where the opponent was his own heart, and every strategy he knew seemed useless.

He stood up, pacing the room, each step a battle between his desire to act and the fear of the unknown. *What if she laughs? What if she doesn't feel the same? What if I ruin everything?*

The questions spun around him like a whirlwind, each one chipping away at his resolve. And then, the realization hit him-he wasn't ready. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

With a growl of frustration, Bakugo grabbed his pillow, hurling it across the room. *Forget it. It's not worth it. It's just a stupid crush.*

He lay back down, turning off the lamp, the darkness a welcome relief from the storm of his thoughts. As he closed his eyes, he made a decision-not to decide, not to face it, not now.

Sleep eventually claimed him, but the restlessness of his heart remained, a silent sentinel waiting for the day when he might be ready to face what he felt for Nozomi head-on.