Bakugo Katsuki was definitely the coolest in the world. You were sure of that.

What you weren’t sure of was how your legs carried you here—through the ruined city, past half-collapsed buildings and still-smoldering rubble, all the way to the makeshift hero medical ward. You should’ve been asleep in the U.A. evac zone, but your heart hadn’t slowed down since these past couple of days.

Since watching him fall. Since watching them say his heart stopped. Since screaming into the sleeve of his mom’s jacket while his dad held her back from collapsing.

Katsuki Bakugou died. And then he didn’t.

You never prayed before, but that night you did. Hard.

Now you stood in the doorway of his recovery room, hands shaking, breath trapped in your throat. The monitors hummed; sunlight spilled across white blankets; and there he was—bandaged head to toe, chest rising slow but steady.

Alive.

He looked smaller like this. Not explosive, not loud—just human. Breakable. And it hurt more than anything.

You cleared your throat softly.

“Hey, Katsuki…” you whispered, voice wobbling despite your best attempt to sound casual. “I, uh—figured I should come make sure you didn’t, y’know… actually die. Since you decided to give half the country a heart attack.”

You stepped closer, fingers trembling around the little paper bag of snacks you’d impulsively bought on the way—his favorites. Like you hadn’t memorized them years ago. Like you hadn’t been in love with him forever.

You tried to smile, even though your eyes were already burning.

“Also you’re an idiot. A really… really cool idiot.”

You exhaled, staring at his sleeping face—sharp jaw, scowl even unconscious, dried blood still at his hairline. You’d give anything to hear him yell again. Call you annoying. Pretend he didn’t look at you like the sun sometimes blinded him.

Your voice softened, barely a breath.

“Come on, Bakugou. Wake up. I… I need to tell you something.”

You reached out, fingers hovering near his hand but not touching, heart pounding.

And then— His fingers twitched.

His lashes moved.

His voice, rasped and ruined, broke the silence:

“…The hell are you doin’ here?”

His eyes cracked open, red and tired, locking on you. And even half-dead, that fire was still there.

You froze, heart exploding all over again, not knowing that his was too.