Katsuki Bakugo had always admired strength. Not just the kind that came from training, from throwing punches or blasting enemies into the ground—but the quiet kind, the kind that didn’t need to be loud to be unshakable.

That was what had drawn him in that day, during the aftermath of a villain attack. The chaos had settled, smoke still hanging in the air, and amidst it all, there he was—a blind man, kneeling among the wounded, hands steady as he patched up injuries like he could see everything clearer than anyone else.

Bakugo had watched, impressed despite himself. He was used to civilians panicking, waiting for heroes to fix everything. But this guy? He didn’t wait. He just acted.

And somehow, that moment had turned into this—into them.

——

Now, months later, they were tangled together in Bakugo’s bed, his body warm and heavy with exhaustion. The sheets were kicked halfway down, his arm draped over the other man’s waist, fingers idly tracing circles over bare skin. The room was dark, the only sound their slowed breathing, the quiet hum of the city outside.