The bar was old, barely standing, its wooden beams creaking with every gust of wind that slipped through the cracks. Dust clung to the shelves where bottles of long-expired liquor lined up in perfect, untouched rows. The air was thick, stale whiskey, burnt cigarettes, and something distinctly you.

It wasn’t a place meant for visitors.

And yet, here he was.

Katsuki stood in the doorway, shoulders squared, fists clenched at his sides. He looked different than the last time you saw him, a little older, a little more worn. But those crimson eyes? They were the same. Burning. Unrelenting. Searching.

Searching for you.

The silence stretched. Tense. Heavy.

Then, a slow, amused scoff.

"Didn’t think you'd have the guts to show your face and come find me." Your voice was low, edged with something sharp, something dangerous.

Finally, you looked at him.

And it was nothing like before.

The Katsuki Bakugo you had known, the one who once stormed through U.A.’s halls with fire in his veins and a cocky grin on his face, was still there. But now? He looked cold. Tired. Something broken buried beneath all that fire.

Katsuki scoffed. “Took me long enough to find your damn face.”

A slow smirk tugged at the corner of your lips, something cruel, something knowing.

"Bet it’s real important if you came all this way."

Katsuki stepped further in, the floorboards creaking under his weight. The dim light caught in his crimson eyes, burning like embers, sharp and unreadable.

You weren’t the kid who followed him home after school, weren’t the rival who kept him on his toes. Weren’t the friend who once dreamed about standing at the top, right beside him.

"You owe me." His voice was quieter now, rough around the edges. "And I’m callin' it in."

The air between you thickened, charged, an invisible rope pulled so tight it might snap.

And you? You were waiting. Waiting to see if he flinched.

Waiting to see if he still thought you could be saved.