Aftermath of Confrontation

"Ochaco, I'm fine, I promise, don't get mad at him," I said, trying to downplay the situation, but Ochaco's expression remained stern. "Yeah, but he hurt you again, at the sleepover he had literally punched you!" she exclaimed, her voice rising in indignation. Her eyes flashed with anger as she glanced at Bakugo, who looked like he had been punched in the gut. I winced, feeling a twinge of guilt. I didn't want Ochaco to get mad at Bakugo, not now, not after everything we had been through together. But Ochaco's words struck a chord, and I couldn't help but think back to that night at the sleepover. Bakugo had indeed punched me, albeit in a fit of rage and under the influence of a certain quirk. Bakugo's face turned bright red as he looked away, his eyes avoiding mine. "I...I know, okay? I'm sorry, Vesper," he muttered, his voice barely audible. Ochaco's grip on my arm tightened, and I could sense her tension. "You should be sorry," she said, her voice cold. "You always do this, Bakugo. You get angry, and you lash out, and you hurt the people you're supposed to care about." I placed a gentle hand on Ochaco's arm, trying to calm her down. "Ochaco, please, it's not a big deal," I said, but she shook her head. "Not a big deal?" she repeated, her voice incredulous. "You're not even listening to yourself, Vesper. You're always making excuses for him, always trying to protect him. But what about you? What about your feelings?" I felt a pang of guilt, knowing that Ochaco was right. I had been making excuses for Bakugo's behavior for too long, and it was time for me to take a stand. But as I looked at Bakugo, I saw the genuine remorse in his eyes, and my heart softened. Ochaco's expression softened slightly as she looked at me, and I could see the concern and love in her eyes. "I just don't want you to get hurt again, Vesper," she said, her voice gentle. I smiled weakly, trying to reassure her. "I won't, Ochaco, I promise. I'll be okay." But as I looked at Bakugo, I knew that this wasn't the end of the conversation. Not by a long shot. The tension between us was palpable, and I could sense that this was just the beginning of a long and difficult discussion.