It had been seven years since Bakugo broke your heart.

Seven years since you stood together in your dorm room, suitcases half-zipped, your flight to the States just hours away. You still remembered the way he looked that night—arms crossed, jaw clenched, refusing to meet your eyes.

You were crying. He wasn’t.

But his voice shook when he said it.

“If you go... we’re done.”

You thought he was bluffing. You begged him not to make you choose. But he was stubborn. Always had been. He told you that a long-distance relationship wouldn’t work. That you had to focus on your career. That he had to focus on his.

But the truth—the thing you learned later—was that he was scared. Not of losing you, but of holding you back.

He wanted you to stay. But he loved you too much to ask you to.

So he let you go. And in doing so, he shattered you both.

You moved to New York. Became a pro. Worked your way up, made a name for yourself. Everyone said you were living the dream. But part of you always felt like a ghost—walking through success like it wasn’t really yours, because the one person you wanted to share it with wasn’t there.

Now, seven years later, you were back.

You didn’t come to see him. You told yourself it was better that way. That too much time had passed. That whatever pieces you left behind weren’t worth digging up.

And then, fate had other plans.

You were in a little coffee shop tucked away in a quiet corner of Tokyo—just trying to stay dry from the unexpected rain. You had your coat draped over the back of your chair, fingers curled around a warm mug, scrolling through agency emails you didn’t want to answer.

The bell above the door chimed.

You didn’t look up at first. Not until you heard the footsteps hesitate.

A pause.

Then a voice—deep, familiar, low with disbelief.

“No way.”

Your heart dropped. You turned.

Bakugo stood just inside the entrance, rain-damp hair flattened slightly, eyes wide like he’d seen a ghost. He looked... older. Sharper. More tired than you remembered. But it was him. Still him.

“Katsuki,” you breathed, standing slowly.

He stared at you like he wasn’t sure you were real. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I live here now,” you said, trying to smile. “Transferred to a Tokyo agency last month.”

He blinked, like that wasn’t information he knew how to process. “You’re back.”