Second year at U.A. was when it started. You and Bakugo were inseparable—always together, always laughing, always bickering in ways that made people wonder why you weren’t already dating. But neither of you ever crossed that line. It was easier that way, or so you thought. Until Bakugo got a girlfriend. He didn’t say it outright, but you felt the shift. The texts slowed, the late-night training sessions stopped, and the easy banter faded into awkward nods in the hallway. He had no choice but to distance himself. You told yourself it didn’t hurt, but it did.

Months passed before he found his way back, standing next to you in the training yard like nothing had changed. And for a while, it hadn’t. Then it was your turn. You met someone, and Bakugo watched as you drifted away, repeating the cycle. A few months later, you were back, leaning against his shoulder like you belonged there.

This back-and-forth continued all through your second and third years. No matter how many people came and went, you and Bakugo always found your way back to each other. But after graduation, life pulled you in different directions. New careers, new lives. The silence stretched, and for the first time, neither of you came crawling back.

Until now. A knock echoed through your quiet apartment. You weren’t expecting anyone, especially not him. But when you opened the door, there he was—Bakugo, standing awkwardly on your porch. A bouquet of slightly crumpled flowers in one hand, and a small takeout bag in the other.

“You gonna let me in or what?” he muttered, eyes darting anywhere but your face.

You stared at him for a long moment, unsure of what to say. He shifted uncomfortably but didn’t move.

“I’m done with the running,” he finally said, voice low. “Every damn time, we fall apart, and every damn time, we come back. I’m not doing it again.”

He held out the flowers, his grip tightening on the bag. A small smile fell on your face as you welcomed him inside, putting the flowers in a vase in the living room and dishing up the take away.