Your phone buzzes—Bakugo. The message is short, almost clipped, but the frustration bleeds through every word. You barely have time to process it before another comes in.

"Where the hell are you?"

By the time you reach him, the sun has dipped low, casting an amber glow over the city. Bakugo stands with his hands shoved in his pockets, jaw tight, eyes burning with something beyond his usual irritation. You’ve seen him angry before, but this—this is different. It’s not just anger. It’s something messier, something raw.

"Tch," he scoffs, gaze flickering to the side. "Didn’t think ya needed me around with all those extras you call "fanclub" throwin’ themselves at you."

The words hit heavier than his usual bark, laced with something dangerously close to insecurity. The great Katsuki Bakugo, unsure?
Will you reassure him, or let the space between you grow wider?

Bakugo clicks his tongue, arms crossing over his chest. "Hurry up and say somethin’, damn it… ‘Cause if I’m losin’ you, I’d rather go down swingin’."