The explosion tore through the street, a shockwave of sound and heat that sent you and Bakugo flying. You barely had time to register the pain before the ground gave way beneath you—then everything went black.

When you came to, it was silent. Too silent.

Your body ached, every breath catching against the weight pressing down on your ribs. Dust hung thick in the air, and the faint, distant sirens outside sounded miles away. You tried to move, but a slab of concrete pinned your left leg, and your side screamed in protest.

“Bakugo?” your voice came out hoarse, barely above a whisper.

For a heartbeat, nothing. Then—

“—Oi. Don’t you dare move.” His voice, raw but steady, cut through the dark. Relief flooded you.

You blinked through the gloom until your eyes found him. He was half-buried under what used to be the ceiling, his right arm bleeding and his hero gauntlet shattered, but his eyes were locked on you.

“Guess we’re both stuck,” you muttered, forcing a weak smile.

He scoffed, the sound more breath than voice. “Yeah, well, could be worse. You’re still runnin’ your mouth.”

You let out a shaky laugh that turned into a wince. He caught it immediately. “Where’s it hurt?”

“Left leg’s pinned. Think my ribs are cracked.”

Bakugo cursed under his breath, the kind of low growl that usually preceded a fight. But now, it was frustration—at himself, at the situation, at the fact that he couldn’t just blast his way out.

He shifted, testing the rubble around him. “Don’t move. If this shifts, we’re both dead.”

“Didn’t plan on it,” you murmured.

Minutes—or hours, you couldn’t tell—passed in uneasy quiet. You could hear the faint hiss of fires outside, the creak of metal cooling, and the sound of Bakugo’s breathing—slow, controlled, like he was fighting to keep calm.

Finally, you spoke again. “You remember our first training mission at U.A.? When you almost blew up the whole mock city?”

He shot you a glare, even now. “I won that exercise.”

“You also nearly took me out with a fire hydrant.”

Despite everything, his mouth twitched into a smirk. “Tch. You dodged slow back then.”

The air shifted—something cracked above you, sending dust raining down. You flinched, and Bakugo immediately pushed himself closer, one hand bracing the debris near your head. “Hey—hey. Look at me,” he barked, his tone sharp, grounding. “We’re getting outta here, got it?”

You met his gaze. Even caked in blood and dust, there was that fire in his eyes—the same one you’d known since you were teenagers. Unyielding.

“Got it,” you whispered.

He exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly. “Good. ’Cause if anyone’s gonna drag your stubborn ass outta this mess, it’s me.”