Bakugo spends the day snapping at Kirishima’s laughter, at Deku’s muttering, until his skin buzzes like static and he can’t breathe. Without thinking, he storms Bambi’s room, drops his bag, and grabs her wrists, pulling too close. He doesn’t speak, just breathes hard, scowl trembling, stunned that he even reached for her. He’s supposed to be better than this, stronger. But the truth burns: no one else ever quiets the storm. Nobody gets him like she does.