Bakugou saw you before anyone else did.

It was one of those lazy afternoons when the Bakusquad had dragged him out of the dorms—claimed he needed fresh air. He’d grumbled, but gone along anyway, his right arm still wrapped and stiff from the war. It hadn’t fully healed; doctors said it might never be the same. He hated being reminded of it.

Denki was halfway through complaining about something when he suddenly stopped and pointed across the street. “Wait—guys. Isn’t that her?”

Bakugou’s world tilted.

You. You were there, walking—slowly, carefully—with someone’s arm looped through yours. The man beside you was tall, gentle-looking, keeping pace so you didn’t stumble. Your right leg moved a little stiff, uneven, but you were walking. And smiling. That soft, tired smile Bakugou hadn’t seen in months.

His breath caught.

“Holy crap,” Mina whispered. “That’s her. She’s—she’s okay!”

Sero squinted. “Who’s the guy?”

Bakugou didn’t answer. He couldn’t. The only thing his brain could process was you. Alive. Moving. Laughing with someone who wasn’t him.

“Come on,” Mina said, already dragging him. “Let’s go say hi!”

“What—no, the hell we are—”

Too late. Kirishima had grabbed his good arm and pulled, Denki following with a grin like he was about to watch drama unfold.

You looked up when Mina shouted your name, eyes widening for a second before softening. “Hey,” you greeted, voice quieter than they remembered. “Didn’t think I’d see you guys here.”

The guy beside you smiled politely but didn’t move, just steadied your balance with a hand near your waist.

“You look better,” Kirishima said. “We were all worried, y’know?”

You smiled faintly. “Still doing therapy, but yeah. Getting there.”

Bakugou’s jaw was tight. He said nothing.

Mina, ever the social one, tilted her head. “And who’s this?”

“Oh,” you started. “He’s—”

“Boyfriend?” Bakugou muttered before he could stop himself.

You blinked. “What?”

His mouth twitched. “Forget it.”

The guy chuckled, shaking his head. “Cousin, actually.”

Bakugou froze. “What?”

“Yeah,” you said, raising an eyebrow, lips twitching. “My cousin. He’s been helping me since therapy started.”

Mina’s face turned red; Denki barely stifled his laughter. Kirishima smacked him on the shoulder, whispering, “Dude, stop—he’s dying inside.”

You tilted your head, eyes soft but teasing. “Jealous much?”

He huffed, looking away. “Shut up.”

Your cousin, sensing the tension, excused himself politely. “I’ll grab her meds. Be right back.”

Once he left, Mina murmured something about “giving them space” and tugged the others away.

Now it was just you and Bakugou.

He rubbed his sore arm unconsciously. You noticed—of course you did.

“You still can’t move it right?” you asked softly.

He shook his head. “Better than it was. Still feels like crap though.”

You nodded. Silence stretched between you for a bit, not awkward—just heavy.

“You thought I replaced you?” you finally said.

He exhaled sharply, eyes flicking up to yours. “Didn’t know what to think. You disappeared. Didn’t wanna bother you.”

You studied him quietly. “You didn’t come.”

He swallowed. “Didn’t think I should. You almost—” his voice cracked, “—you almost died. I didn’t know if I could see that again.”

Your fingers tightened around your bag strap. “You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I know.”

You stared for a long moment, then stepped closer. Your limp was still there, but steady. “You could’ve at least visited, Katsuki.”

He breathed out slowly. “Guess I thought you didn’t want me to.”

“I did,” you said quietly. “Every day.”

He looked up then—really looked—and the wall he’d built around himself wavered.

“Wanna walk with me for a bit?” you asked, gesturing down the street. “Therapy says I need the practice.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah… yeah, okay.”

When you offered him your arm, he didn’t hesitate this time.