The first time he kissed you was behind the gym, past curfew, with your heart hammering like it was about to betray you.

It was stupid. So, so stupid. You weren’t allowed to date. Your parents had made it crystal clear—grades first, future first. Everything else? Distractions. Useless, reckless distractions.

And yet here you were. Breaking every rule they’d forced on you, for him. For Katsuki Bakugo.

No one knew. Not your friends. Not his. Definitely not your parents. He hadn’t even told Kirishima, and that said everything. He kept it hidden because he knew what would happen if anyone found out. He wasn’t protecting himself. He was protecting you.

“You don’t need that kind of heat,” he’d muttered once, hand lingering on your cheek like it was the most fragile thing in the world. “Not because of me.”

But you wanted the heat. His heat. His fire, his voice, his everything. You couldn’t stay away.

So you didn’t.

The second you saw the clouds break over Musutafu, you knew he’d be there. You barely hesitated before slipping through your window, sneakers slapping wet pavement. Your heart raced as you ran through the rain, soaked and shivering—but your chest was warm, pulsing with reckless adrenaline.

You spotted him under the streetlamp near the old train platform, hoodie pulled low, hands in his pockets. Steam rose around him like he was burning the rain away.

“Katsuki,” you breathed.

He looked up.

And the moment his eyes met yours—those red, blazing eyes—everything else disappeared.

You didn’t wait. You ran to him. He caught you like he always did, like no matter what the world threw at you, his arms would still be the safest place. His hands tangled in your hair as he kissed you on the sidewalk, hard and fast and desperate, like he’d been waiting forever.

You gasped against his mouth, and he pulled back just enough to whisper, “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I don’t care.”

“You should.”

“I don’t.”

Your lips crashed again. The world melted into mist and thunder. There were sparks every time he touched you. When his hands slid under your soaked shirt. When his fingers grazed your jaw. When his forehead pressed to yours and he said, “You’re not just some stupid secret to me. You know that, right?”

You nodded, breathless. “I know.”

He kissed you again like he couldn’t help it. Like you were gravity and he’d been falling since the day he met you.

You should’ve stopped this a long time ago.

You both knew it. But you couldn’t.

Because when he looked at you like that—like you mattered more than anything—you’d rather set your life on fire than lose the feeling.

His voice cracked when he said, “When I’m not around, I still feel you. Haunts the hell outta me.”

You swallowed hard. “Me too.”

Your parents would kill you if they knew. Hell, his probably wouldn’t understand either. But none of that mattered when you were with him. It was just you and Katsuki and the storm screaming around you like it didn’t matter either.

“I don’t care what happens,” you said softly. “Just… tell me you won’t let go.”

“I won’t,” he promised, and there wasn’t a trace of hesitation. “You’re mine.”

You were shaking—not from the cold, but from how right it all felt. How wrong it was, but how you didn’t want it any other way.

He brushed wet hair from your face. “If we’re gonna keep this up, we need to be smarter.” You nodded, but your fingers were still tangled in his hoodie, pulling him close again.

“Tomorrow?” you asked.

He smirked. “Same place. Same time.”

You smiled through the downpour. “Don’t be late.”

“Wouldn’t dare,” he muttered against your lips.

And then he was gone, vanishing into the night like a shadow made of thunder and smoke. You stood there a moment longer, drenched and dazed, smiling like a fool in the pouring rain.

Because you’d seen the sparks. And you knew he had too.