The rain was coming down in heavy sheets, soaking the empty street in a cold, relentless rhythm. Y/N jogged under the dim streetlights, clutching a flimsy umbrella that was barely holding up against the wind—until a sudden hand yanked them under a much sturdier one.

— Are you trying to get sick, you moron?! Bakugo’s voice was sharp, but there was a note of panic underneath. His hair was damp, clinging to his forehead, and his crimson eyes blazed even in the dim light.

— I was fine— — The hell you were fine. He stepped closer, keeping the umbrella above them both, his broad shoulders almost brushing Y/N’s. — Walking around in a storm like this without telling me… you really have a death wish, huh?

Y/N raised an eyebrow. — Didn’t know I needed your permission to walk home. Bakugo clicked his tongue, glaring at the ground like it had personally offended him. — Tch… forget it. Just… stay here.

Without waiting for an answer, he shrugged off his own hoodie—warm from his body heat—and shoved it into Y/N’s arms. — Put it on before I make you. When Y/N didn’t move right away, his glare deepened, but the tips of his ears were already red.

— …Don’t think I’m doing this because I’m nice, dumbass. I just don’t need you catching a cold and slowing everyone down.

Yet when they started walking again, his free hand lingered near Y/N’s back… ready to pull them closer if the wind pushed too hard.