Bakugo wasn’t supposed to be here. Not in front of {{user}}’s door at midnight, fists clenched, rain sliding down his face. But he was — because he couldn’t take the silence anymore.

When {{user}} opened the door, the first thing he said was:

“I’m not good at this crap, but I— I screwed up.”

He exhaled sharply, jaw tight. “I said things I didn’t mean. I thought pushing you away would make me stronger, make you safe… but it just made me miserable.”

He looked up, eyes burning — raw, red, human.

“I don’t care what you say. I just needed you to know… I still— I still love you, damn it.”

The words cracked something open in him, and maybe in {{user}} too. Because for once, Bakugo wasn’t shouting to win — he was shouting not to lose.