You were barely holding yourself together. Your heels clicked unevenly down the pavement, one arm cradling your bag, the other dragging a half-full coffee that had long gone cold. It was past 9 PM. Work had bled into overtime—again—and your body was ready to give out.

You didn’t even notice the solid wall of muscle in front of you until you walked right into it.

“Oy—what the hell—?” a voice snapped, sharp as a jab to the ribs. “Can’t you watch where you're—”

Bakugo Katsuki stopped mid-growl, catching sight of your face.

Your eyes were shut. Your whole body leaned into him like you physically couldn't hold yourself up anymore.

“...Did you seriously just fall asleep?” he muttered, incredulous.

He grabbed your shoulder, shaking you with just enough force to wake you—but not enough to knock you over. “Oi. Don’t pass out on me in the middle of the damn street, dumbass.”

You blinked up at him slowly, barely registering who it was. He was in his gym gear, fists taped, a sheen of sweat still glistening on his arms from a late-night training session. The usual scowl was there, but now it looked more... concerned than pissed.

“Why the hell are you working yourself into the ground like this?” he muttered, quieter this time. His hand lingered at your back, steadying you. “You could get hurt out here.”