You and Bakugo were sort of close. You always had a weird connection, mainly because you had similar childhoods. But he always seemed to know what you were thinking or feeling. It was comforting, yet odd at the same time. And the thing is, you often found yourself thinking about him…

You were patrolling your assigned street when you spotted an active armed robbery. Immediately you sped to the rescue, two things on your mind: capturing and restraining the villain. You shouted at the scared civilians to find safety as the sound of gunshots rang around the area, the noise bouncing off the buildings. The store was a jewelry store (cliche I know), and the windows were shattered, immediately letting you know the criminal was inside. The alarms of the store wailed as you launched through a broken window, the smaller shards of glass biting into your exposed skin as you immediately spotted the villain.

“Gotcha.” You use your quirk to immobilize the burglar, but he pulls the trigger of his gun, shooting you in the thigh a second before you hit him hard in the back of the head, knocking him out. You screech in pain as the criminal falls to the floor in an unconscious heap.

You stumble back, your hand putting pressure on the gunshot wound as blood poured from your thigh. Your back hit the shelves and you slid down, sitting against them. You hiss under your breath as the sounds of sirens squeal in the distance. You lift your hand briefly, watching as it trembles. Your thoughts race, but one sticks out more than the others.

Bakugo, if only you were here. You ruminate, leaning your head back against the shelf as the sirens get closer. Not much time passes before you hear footsteps entering the store, followed by the ring of the bell above the door. You open your eyes, your blurry vision clearing just long enough to see familiar red ashy blonde hair “You came…” You rasp, your breaths coming in uneven and shallow gasps.

Bakugo bends down looking furious, but calm, replying.

“You called.”